Why They Call it the “First” Draft

“The artist’s life is frustrating not because the passage is slow, but because he imagines it to be fast.”
- David Bayles & Ted Orland, “Art & Fear,” 1993

“The first draft of Psycho Ex is killing me not because it is a bad first draft, but because I was hoping it was the final draft.”
- Robb, 2009

Based upon the macro feedback from a few rounds of readers, Psycho Ex has some problems. Specifically:

• The first act/half is WAY too slow
• The middle is confusing
• The third act is somewhat clunky
• Nobody “gets” the ending

So it’s merely the beginning, the middle, and the end that need work. I guess that’s why they call it the “first” draft.

Bit the Bullet

After days of agonizing I finally uploaded Psycho Ex (it has a new title) to zoetrope.com for peer review.

I don’t know why I still feel like the thing isn’t done – it’s currently on its third round of readers and responses have been positive. It’s as if there’s some threshold I still haven’t crossed, but I don’t know what it is.

The script will be up for 30 days and due to the way the site/community is designed it should get 4 or 5 reviews. We’ll see how it goes.

Next stop after that: agent queries, contests, and inktip.

Out to Readers

After an embarrassingly long gestation period, a first draft of Psycho Ex (with a name change) has finally gone out to its first round of readers. I should get feedback Tuesday after the long weekend.

This always feels weird. I am happy and satisfied and exhausted and not convinced it’s really happening – like the first week after college finals.

But there is a whole different additional dynamic at play with this one than usual, because – due somewhat to the original “Challenge” - it is much more an exercise than a passion project. Don’t get me wrong, the story was my idea, and I take its execution very seriously, but now that a draft is complete I feel “outside” the thing more than I ever have.

The thing I love/hate about writing is that when I work on something this big and all-encompassing, I get overwhelmed and lost inside it. I fall in love with it, and I don’t know if this is a blessing or a curse. It’s wonderful because I think/hope it adds heart and soul to the piece, but it’s terrible because I lose all objectivity and get lost. For long periods. With almost every script, I can vividly remember THE EXACT MOMENT when everything shifts and I come up for air, when I get back “on top of it,” when I get back outside and un-consumed by it and I start cutting and shaping and whacking at it with no emotional attachment whatsoever. This is when the work really gets done. But this is also when I feel guilty, like I’ve stopped loving someone simply because it is no longer the pragmatic thing to do.

I don’t think I was ever in love with this one. I spent a lot of time in the depths with it, don’t get me wrong, but it was never a passion project like Aftershocks was or Dead Guy is. I was more objective with this one all along, so there are parts of it (Act Two hopefully, Act Three definitely) that I think are better executed than my usual output. I would say I’m very happy with the execution on those (this Act Three is probably the best I’ve ever written). But it never took on a life of its own really.

Does this mean it will be less “alive” than it should be? Than it could be? Does this mean there won’t be enough “there” for the reader?

Will the reader know that it has less of a “soul” than it could have had? Or will it just be me?

Or have I finally shaken off the indulgent crap of falling in love with your material? Have I finally got on with the real business of writing?

Update: Just got my first feedback (thanks Tammy!). The weekend is off to a good start…

The Second Honeymoon is Over

The wife and kids got back home Saturday, ending my 8-day writing fest. How’d it go? Pretty well, I’d say. Psycho Ex doesn’t yet have a showable first draft (which was the original goal), but it will by Labor Day. So if you’ve been a script reader of mine before, get ready.

The big highlight/breakthrough of the week occurred at 10:22PM on Tuesday. Lightning struck and the huge bloated mess that was Act Two suddenly came into focus. A bold new Line emerged and I started resequencing and cutting like crazy. The index cards were flying. I’m now pretty psyched about this Act Two – it should turn out to be one of the most active and energetic second acts of all my scripts. I’ve said all along that this script is much more plot than ideas/theme, and right now The Line feels really good.

I’m currently on page 75, plowing forward while rewriting/cutting as I go. Page count is cooperating nicely. Two big scenes (already written) and I’m out of Act Two. Act Three is looking strong too. A couple of wrinkles to finesse still, but I’m in good shape. I’m as excited about this script as I’ve ever been.

By the Numbers:

131 = current page count (down from a peak of 151 and then 143 when the honeymoon began)

200 = blank index cards I had to go out and buy

57 = current number of scenes in the script (some are montages and/or intercut sequences)

10 = page number when we get the big hook/rug-pull moment

2 = number of dinners I had with old friends I haven’t seen much of since the children came

2 = number of people who get killed in the story

1= number of attacks with gardening implements

0 = number of times a character named Bernard Blanchard calls someone a “taffy ass” in the script (have to rectify this before it’s finished)

0 = minutes spent playing Wii for the entire 8 days

countless = number of times I watched this

Scene from the Second Honeymoon

Here’s the living room floor on Day 5. It’s not as glamourous at it looks…

Some of the notecards are blank – those scenes have been written, I just haven’t done notecards yet because I’m not there yet. (Somewhere in there are a few script pages from David Lynch’s Lost Highway. Yes, I’m stealing from the best.) The big empty space in the floor is for me.

Total seconds spent playing Wii so far: zero.

Okay, break’s over.

Second Honeymoon

My wife and I got married toward the end of my last semester of grad school. I remember our honeymoon like it was yesterday: she flew off for a weekend in Vegas… while I stayed home and wrote 60 pages in two days. Act Two of Stuck.

Forget “romantic” – it was the last semester and that sucker was due.

Now, all these years later, it looks like we’re finally taking a second honeymoon. And this time we’re super-sizing it: Friday she flies the kids off for eight days in Texas… while I stay home and finally finish that first draft of Psycho Ex.

That’s the plan – party like it’s 1993. My own personal ScriptFrenzy. As of right now the monstrosity is 143 pages (down from 151!) and there are a still two or three missing scenes in Act Two. But I’m determined to do it. Unlike the old days, I will have to work the 40-hour day job, but eight days is a lot. A luxury. The two weekend days especially should be productive.

So be on the lookout for rewrite updates. Maybe I’ll do constant posts with page counts. Or maybe I’ll just turn off all communications and disappear into a cave with my laptop. Or maybe I’ll just play Wii and surf the net for eight days. No! No, I’m gonna do this. The goal is to have a showable first draft when she gets back, and to have a version uploaded to readers on zoetrope.com by 9/1/09.

So forget “romantic” – bring on The Rewrite.

Euphoria

Yes, I’ve been holding out on you.

I typed FADE OUT. yesterday on Psycho Ex. Man it felt great. Act 3 just flooded out in a three-day sprint. Sure, there are still big holes and a missing scene or two (maybe) in Act 2, and then the endless rewrites begin, but still. It’s a big threshold to cross. I am psyched.

So that’s where I’ve been – too busy writing script pages to create blog posts. And what pages I have – the first words-on-paper draft (it’s still too early to call it a first draft) weighed in at a staggering 151 pages! So I’ve got quite a bit to cut. And cut. And cut. The good news is that I think all the pieces are there, now it’s time to focus and combine and cut. I’m pretty happy with The Line, it just needs to be streamlined now.

The way the summer stars are aligning, a mid-August completion date looks doable. My current hope is to send a draft to zoetrope.com for peer review at that time. Hopefully this current euphoria will push me all the way through the major cutting ahead.

Okay, back to work. I’ll keep you posted. Well, maybe…

Definition of Insanity

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different result. But they also say “if at first you don’t succeed, try try again.” So what do they know?

Look, you’re not going to get lucky. Nobody does. Whatever it is you’re trying to do, you need two things to succeed: a great idea and the skillful execution of that idea. One without the other isn’t enough. Where do you get these ingredients? The short answer is this: trial and error.

You try and try, over and over, discarding the weak ideas and refining your execution, going through your process. Always hoping for a different result this time.

Sometimes – too many times – you get one without the other. On the one extreme you have the killer idea that goes nowhere. On the other there’s the immaculately-polished turd.

How do you get past these? You work through them, all the way, as deeply and as completely as you can, then throw them away and keep going. Keep driving. Keep moving. Send your stuff out if you’re happy with it, but move on. The clock is ticking and you still need more practice. 

There’s a saying in the writers room: “You’ve got to kill your babies.” Harsh? Definitely. And that’s the point.

You’ve got to be willing to throw away everything, even the ideas you’re most in love with. Especially the ideas you’re most in love with. You’ve got to keep cranking. You’ve got to keep yourself honest. You can’t hang on to anything that can slow you down, that can keep you from moving forward, from driving the process along. Hanging on to one idea is just going to keep you pinned down and preoccupied when the next idea – a better idea – comes along.

When I think about creative people who have been successful, their success has almost always come from a steady progression of projects through which they’ve practiced and improved and reached a critical command of their skills. Then at some point that key idea comes along, and BAM! the idea gets executed with these skills and the rest is history. It is rare to hear of a creative person coming across his killer idea at age 19 or 23 or something and then spending years sheltering and nurturing and protecting that same idea until a miracle happens and the skills of execution arise out of nowhere. 

But you see people – talented people – clinging forever to that one thing. That one pet idea. For years, wasting time. And it breaks your heart. Forget about doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result – these people do NOTHING and expect a perfect result. Now that’s a definition of insanity. 

These skills are learned. You have to earn them, from stretching. From work. Not from babying that same idea you’ve held onto forever. In love with your idea? Terrific. Now go write that idea. Then write another one. Just do it. Kill your babies.

This from the guy who’s been working on Dead Guy and Psycho Ex for about 2 years now.

In Deep

This is what I love about writing. This is what I hate about writing.

I wrote a scene of Psycho Ex last night. A quick, simple, self-contained, direct, 1-page, 2-characters-in-a-room scene that I has pretty happy with. So what did I do? I screwed it up and asked some people to read it, with a couple of simple questions. Of course, instead of answers they had loads of questions, all of which I thought were irrelevant: do we know these people? do they know each other? why are they in the same room? But what else should I expect from sending people a scene on page 80-something with nothing else to go from?

If the script wasn’t so overlong and fat I would send the whole thing to this point, but that would require me to shift over from “creative” mind to “critical” mind, and then a lot of time to edit and tweak, and I don’t want to take myself out of “creative” mind until the first draft is done. Plus I don’t want to waste all the first impressions of a large number of readers – must wait until the big obvious problems are fixed, otherwise they will just focus on the big obvious problems. The first draft will be WAY long but I can’t worry about that now. I just have to write scenes. 

The writing process of this script is so unbelievably different from any I’ve ever used before. But then again they are all different and there is no “standard” process. Despite all my efforts to sit down and map out the specific timeline of the rest of the script (I have the note cards all written up), I cannot seem to do this. My process lately has been to just look at the note cards, take a scene that I know will HAVE TO be in the script, and then just write it. Then I go to the next one. I will sequence them later. Usually I will figure out that scene X would be perfect right after scene Q while I am deep in the middle of writing scene F, so I’ll switch over and move them into sequence with the screenwriting software. This is the most random access digital editing process I have ever used to write. Some times my brain cannot really do it, and I cannot figure out how to resume this way of thinking/working, and it kills time with all the gear-switching. But as soon as I get into the flow of writing a scene I am okay. This is why I say “I just have to write scenes” and not think about the structure at all. Currently the “document” (script outline with full scenes written until page 80-something) comes in at 108 pages. An overlong disorganized monster that keeps growing with many many scenes to go still. The bad news is that I am deep into it. The good news is that I am deep into it. I guess this means I have hit critical mass of brain involvement so there is no going back now. Now I just have to go forward without a plan for going forward. This is what it is – not necessarily fun but a waking dream that is impossible to stop. This is the zone. Is the script/story any good? That is an impossible question with an unknowable answer that is less than irrelevant. Must… shut… up…

Does the Twist Ending Have to Come at the End?

If you’re thinking I’ve forgotten about The Challenge, I haven’t. I just continue to struggle with Act Two of Psycho Ex. You know, the easy script. And it’s weird because although Act Two is always the hardest part, the problems I’m having this time are problems I’ve never had before.

Here’s the deal: The script has a twist ending. Or maybe it’s a twist “middle.” I’m not exactly sure. That’s the problem.

I know my story. I know it well. I’m just not so sure about the plot. Big difference. The story is the chronological timeline of events. The story is what happens (In The Sixth Sense, Bruce Willis dies in the first scene and lives the rest of the movie as a ghost). But the plot is the timeline in which information is revealed to the reader/viewer. The plot is how the story is told (Neither we nor Bruce know he is a ghost until the very end). Story vs. plot.

Psycho Ex has a twist. The big problem I am dealing with now is the revealing of this twist and the issue of surprise vs. suspense. Surprise is what happens when the reader/viewer gets information at the same time as the characters, as in The Sixth Sense – we find out that Bruce is a ghost at the same time that Bruce does, and we are  just as surprised as Bruce is. We don’t suspect this is coming, so when it comes we are so surprised we jump out of our seats. Suspense is different. Suspense is what happens when the reader/viewer gets information before the characters do, and then we squirm in our seats or yell at the screen as we wait for the characters to learn the truth the hard way (“Don’t go downstairs! The killer is in the house!”). The only person who knows all the information all of the time is the writer.

Which is me. But halfway through Act Two, I can’t figure out if Psycho Ex is supposed to make you jump out of your seat or make you squirm in it.

When I originally got the idea for the script and started laying it out, I didn’t doubt for a second that it had a surprise twist ending. I had a love triangle – one man and two women, one of them pregnant. After chasing the women, the man finally catches up to them – and then does something that turns the whole movie upside-down. Everyone jumps out of their seats, the climactic twist plays out, and we Fade Out while people are still shocked. 

But then it occurred to me – what if, at the midpoint, I reveal the guy’s plan to the audience, but not to the women? This way I still get the surprise and the movie turning upside-down, just earlier. And I also get much more – the chase will still happen, but it will suddenly be more charged instead of just standard action. You will know the secret but they won’t. Everything the women do would be in preparation for the WRONG climax, so you’ll squirm and yell “Don’t do it! You’re doing the wrong thing!” We get surprise and suspense. I don’t want this to get too Lifetime-y, but suspense with a pregnant woman in danger – man, that’s some powerful territory with a huge built-in squirm factor. That could propel the script into a whole different league. Surprise alone would never get us this – you can milk surprise for half a page, but you can get reams from suspense. Very pleased with myself, I decided I should definitely go with the suspense plan. The twist “middle.”

Unless that doesn’t work. Because usually – always? – it doesn’t work. The twist has to be the climax, it has to be a last-minute surprise. Doesn’t it? I mean, Psycho, No Way Out, every episode of The Twilight Zone… you build to a climax, you reveal a huge twist, these two are actually the same thing, and you Fade Out. Because if a “plot twist” overshadows your climax, you’re in trouble, right? After the twist, you don’t have anywhere else to go. That’s why they call it a “twist ending.” Right? I mean, what if The Sixth Sense had revealed that Bruce was a ghost halfway through the movie? What if The Usual Suspects had revealed the Big Reveal to the audience halfway through?

Then they would have been The Crying Game.

Crap. 

They would have become completely different movies. I’ve got big problems.

I like the suspense option, I instinctively want to go there. I’m just not sure if the climax would still be the climax, or what the new climax would be, or if the story would really work anymore. The idea was engineered and constructed with the twist ending climax. But maybe it doesn’t have a “twist ending,” maybe it actually has a killer “plot twist.” But then… that means the old climax isn’t the climax anymore, just the middle. And if the old climax isn’t the climax anymore, then what is?

Hey – remember before, at the very beginning, when I said “I know my story”?… Turns out I was really lying.

See? Twist ending.