by Blake Snyder
A year or so later, Colby Carr and I stuffed several dozen kid's backpacks with a million dollars in play money for Hilary to send out Blank Check — basically the storyline of the script in a finely made, 3-D souvenir.
Each of these specialty presentations resulted in a million-dollar sale. And headlines in Variety the next day noted the marketing innovations and the bidding war both inspired. For our part, we always devised these because we were genuinely enthusiastic about our script, and wanted to get the reader in the mood —just like a good marketing campaign gets a nationwide audience in the mood to see a summer blockbuster. It's a truism that the easiest people to sell are salesmen. I am a sucker for a great campaign of any kind. And so are the executives in Hollywood. They like a good show as much as the next person and are more likely to applaud the effort. Besides, we had a ball doing it!
Of course this kind of marketing is oldhat now. No one does these little tricks anymore. It's doubtful this type of selling will come back. Too many scripts that were bought did not get made and the spec script craze has died. Studios nowadays don't like to be that out of control when it comes to bidding on scripts, so they don't get into bidding wars as often or as eagerly as they used to. But it was fun while it lasted! Who knows what the next innovative tactic will be — via the Internet maybe? — to get the attention that will set your script apart in the crowd. After all, this is a business that still likes special effects, surprise, and showmanship.
IT IS WHAT IT IS
Okay. Last words on the entire subject. I am a little teary about ending this book. It's been fun to write and I hope that in some way it's been helpful to you. I have been honored to be a part of this business from the time I was a very little kid. I've had great adventures, lots of truly creative moments, and met some of the most amazing people. It's been a great ride.
I've also been faced with terrible self-doubt and self-recrimination. You get bumped in this business, and want to throw in the towel from time to time. But if it's in your blood, like it's in mine, you learn to persevere. And you get as much education from failure as success. If you keep trying and stay focused, you can have any prize in the firmament. All you have to do is keep working at it, have a great attitude, and know that today just might be "the day. "
Right before Colby Carr and I ever sent a script out, gave it to our agent, or to the producer, we had a little saying to take the sting away. We knew that we had done our best. With Colby, as with all my writing partners, we work hard for the money. And we are harder on ourselves than any critic could possibly be. Just before we dropped that script in the mail or surrendered it to the messenger, Colby and I would say: "It is what it is." That phrase means that certain artistic projects, when combined with the need for those projects to make a profit, are penned in by demands that you must meet. If you meet them satisfactorily, if you've done your job, if you've covered yourself from every angle, if you've met every criteria and done so creatively, that's all you can do. You've done your best.
The rest is fate.
It is what it is.
The business is what it is too. And while I often rebel against it, or try to bullhead my way past it, there's no way around it. "They," meaning the people who run the studios and make the decisions, do all kinds of things that drive creative people like us mad, but they are in charge. Yes, they buy into someone's "heat' and ignore others, more talented, who are unknown. They often don't read scripts thoroughly. And they are more interested in the headline and the opportunity you represent than your growth as an artist.
But that's the nature of business.
It is what it is.
You must find a life within the confines of "It is what it is." This is where your skills as a bullhead will save both you and your sanity. And while I've made fun of this trait throughout this book, I do it as a means of challenging you to be more so: Whatever you do, don't stop being a bullhead. The powers-that-be can take away a lot of things. They can buy your script and fire you, or rewrite it into oblivion, but they can't take away your ability to get up off the mat and come back swinging — better and smarter than you were before.
Most of all, you must try to find the fun in everything you write. Because having fun lets you know you're on the right track. So that when you write those two dazzling words, FADE IN:, the hundredth time, you're as excited as you were when you wrote them the first.
GLOSSARY_
FREQUENT TERMS IN USE IN THE 310 AREA CODE
ARC — This denotes the changes a character experiences as tracked from the beginning, through the middle, to the end of a screenplay. Most often heard in development meetings as in: "What's the arc of the hero?" and "Are these characters arcing enough?" To which you think to yourself: "What is the arc of my patience to sit here and listen to this?"
AT THE END OF THE DAY - A phrase used by agents and managers to indicate they are about to give you bad news, i.e., "We love your script and think it would be great for Julia, but at the end of the day does she really need to do a musical set in the Middle Ages?" Also when you are most likely to be called by said agent or manager with this bad news.
BLACK HOLES — These are the spots in your beat sheet, step outline, or places on The Board that you have no idea how to fill with story. Looking at black holes will cause you to wonder how you got into the business. You could have gone to law school or joined the Army but no, you had to do this!
BLOCK COMEDY - A low budget, domestically oriented, family film. It is so low tech and requires so few company moves, you can shoot it on the backlot — as they did with The 'Burbs. I first heard this term at Disney when we were discussing a script we had sold to them called Poker Night. And it all takes place — on the block. "We want more of these," said the executive in charge. "You know, a block comedy!" I had never heard the term before. It may just be his term, but I like it, and now it's mine.
BOARD, THE — A corkboard, blackboard, or artist's notebook that divides a screenplay-in-progress into four equal parts: Act One, the first half of Act Two, the second half of Act Two, and Act Three. It is the workout space where, using index cards, pushpins, colored Pentels, etc., you can try your best ideas and see what they look like, and then begin to winnow them down. If done right, you'll end up with 40 scenes that make a movie, all laid out neatly on The Board in your office or workroom... along with blood, sweat, and tears.
BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL - A filmmaker's inside joke that makes the audience realize they are watching a film. The fourth wall is an invisible one that allows the audience to look into the lives of characters on stage. And breaking it lets the characters, essentially, look back. This "takes you out of the story." Sometimes it works, as when Woody Allen speaks to the audience in Annie Hall. But most times it does not, as when Robin Williams "breaks character" (like in Aladdin).
BOOSTER ROCKET — There are spots in any screenplay that are potentially dull stretches. Usually these are found right after "big moments" like after the Act One break and sections where the action is petering out, like at the end of Act Two. This is a time to stick in a booster rocket to get us past these spots. John Candy in Home Alone is the classic example. The tale of a Mom (Catherine O'Hara) getting home to her child is starting to drag around the end of Act Two. So when John Candy and his polka-band cohorts show up, it's just what the script doctor ordered. Another booster rocket character is the manicurist in Legally Blonde. She arrives just when we're growing weary of Elle Woods' law school saga, just after the break into Act Two of that screenplay. Both these characters rocket us past these potential slow spots.
CALLBACKS — Bits, images, character traits, and metaphors that are set up in Act One and then recalled later in the movie. Often the callback explains what that obvious set-up was about. In Back to the Future, the flier upon which Marty McFly's girlfriend writes "I Love You" reminds Marty of the clock tower and the electric storm in 1955 that he needs to power his DeLorean back to 1985. This is a nice callback. Other callbacks are less plot-orie
nted and remind us of a character's growth, harkening the past to show change or to re-emphasize a joke by reminding us of its origins.
CREDIT JUMPER - You have sold your script to the studio. Then, after your contracted rewrite, you are fired. And when the movie goes into production, and you are sent drafts of the rewritten version of your script, you are suddenly appalled to find that... it's been altered!! Often in stupid ways: Your hero Bob is now named Carl. Instead of a Pontiac, he drives a Buick. Congratulations, you've been victimized by a credit jumper, a guy or gal who is gunning for writing credit on your movie and thinks by making these tweaks it will become his or her own. This is why we have WGA credit-arbitration committees to decide who did what. The advantage of writing on spec and being the originator now becomes clear. You have more rights than the average credit jumper. It's up to you to say why specifically this is still your script. And you must! (Isn't Hollywood a great town?)
EXPOSITION — Give me the facts, ma'am, just the facts, but please do it in a way that won't put me to sleep. Thus, exposition — like annoying plot details, heist plans, and backstories — can't be just laid out, it must be entertainingly told by crafty screenwriters. To "bury" said exposition is to deal with it in a way that is not deadly dull. The masters of the craft make these irritating facts and figures go down as easily as a spoonful of Maypo.
FIRST REEL — During the era of silent films, film reels were IO minutes long, thus the end of the first reel was IO minutes into the movie. Flash forward to Joel Silver, genius producer of such action pictures as Die Hard and Matrix, who wisely suggests that you have a "whammy" or a big action set piece at the end of every "reel. " The First Reel still denotes the first IO minutes of a movie and I suggest it be used to introduce every A-story character.
FOUR-QUADRANT PICTURE - The big magilla. The whole ball of wax. The mother lode. Audience-wise, if you have a four-quadrant hit, you have won the lottery. The four quadrants are Men Over 25. Men Under 25. Women Over 25, and Woman Under 25. If you can draw audience from all those quadrants, you are guaranteeing yourself a hit. Why isn't every movie a four-quadrant movie? Everyone targets different groups for different reasons. As I write today, the single most desirable group is Men Under 25. Most movies are geared to them because they go, with or without their girlfriends. They are more likely to bring others to their movies than they are likely to be brought to other movies. They are the leading indicators of "who goes." This may change, but it explains the movie selections at the mall on any given weekend. Have a complaint no one's making movies for you? That's why. But for the spec screenwriters of the world trying to make a sale, this is invaluable information.
GENRE — After we get past the main headings of, say, Comedy and Drama, genre breaks down into more specific groupings. If it's a comedy, then what type of comedy is it? Is it a family film, romance comedy, spoof, or teen comedy? If it's a drama, is it an action, romance, thriller, or horror movie? Each of these is a genre that has its own rules, history, and expectations from an audience. And though the fusion of different genres is now de rigueur in short-attention-span Hollywood (Ron Howard's The Missing is a Gothic/Western), I suggest one genre per movie, please. Any more and I personally don't know what it is, or why I go see it.
HIGH CONCEPT — No one knows exactly how to explain this unwieldy term. I know. I've asked. What is "high" about a high concept? The term is fuzzy regarding what it's trying to describe. Also, I've asked about the exact place and time this phrase was coined and have come up short. That said, we know what it means: Die Hard is a high concept movie; English Patient is not. Miss Congeniality is a high concept movie; Under The Tuscan Sun is not. Mostly you can divide it into American (high concept) and European (non-high concept), which also explains why American movies do well and European movies do not — well, everywhere but Europe. I advise you to write as high a high concept movie as you can the first time out, and if you know of the exact terminology or origin of the term "high concept" e-mail me... I'll be in Europe.
HOOK — Ah, le hook! This is the encapsulation of a movie, be it displayed on the poster or in the logline, which grabs your attention and makes you want to run, not walk, to the theatre. And when mentioned in Variety, it is the thing that makes you hit yourself on the head and say: "Why didn't I think of that?" Like Proust's madeleine, the hook must blossom in your mind with possibility and "hook" you into wanting more — thus the name. It is a simple mental picture that promises fun and gives you enough of a peek into the storyline that you can see the potential. A good hook is gold for this reason: It works on anyone who hears it, be it agent, producer, studio head, or ticket buyer. A good hook answers: "What is it?"
INACTIVE HERO - What lays there like a lox on a plate? Who can't be bothered to get up out of his chair and go answer the door? Why, the inactive hero, of course. And since the very definition of a hero is to be proactive, the inactive kind must not be a very good thing. Heroes seek, strive, and reach for the stars; they don't wait for the phone to ring. So if your hero is inactive, tell him to get off the dime!
IN PLAY — When we say that someone is in play, we mean that they have so much "heat" and are so "desirable" that the news they are looking for new representation makes the town jump up and down with hysteric joy. For actors who want to leave their agents, for directors and producers who have eschewed their studios when their on-the-lot deal ends and are looking for a new "home," being in play means lots of buzz, money, and attention is about to be paid. If you are a screenwriter, this term does not apply to you. While you very well may be "in play," to the town it just means you are "available."
LOGLINE OR ONE-LINE - A log-line is the one- or two-sentence description of your movie that tells us what it is. It must contain a type of hero (that means a type of person plus an adjective that describes him), the antagonist (ditto), and the hero's primal goal. It must have irony, and it must bloom in our brains with potential. A good logline is the coin of the realm in Hollywood and can be traded like currency with those who appreciate it.
MAJOR TURNS - The break into Act One, the midpoint, and the break into Act Three are the major turns of a script. These are conveniently found at the end of each horizontal row on The Board. These are also the places that need to be paid the most attention. In a pitch you will hang your hat on these major turns and if you're lucky, executives will remember one of them. But you must always have them nailed before you pitch and before you can "beat out" a screenplay.
ONE-SHEET — This is the old timer's phrase for "the poster." I have no idea where this term originated, only that it has to do with printing size. A one-sheet is the broad sheet that shows the stars, title, and tone of the film. A good one is gold. One-sheets sell DVDs in the aftermarket, too.
ON THE NOSE a.k.a. A Little Too on the Nose — This is one of my favorite development executive phrases, uttered when a suggestion is obvious, unfunny, or something "we've seen before. " Instead of saying "That's obvious, unfunny, and something we've seen before," they say, "It feels a little on the nose." You, who have been up all night trying not to be "on the nose, " now think of this as a target suggestion.
PAGE ONE — "It's a Page One! This is the despairing cry of the development executive who has been handed a script with a good idea and maybe some good characters and little else. It means that some poor schmuck will be assigned to give this a "page one rewrite." It is the equivalent of an auto body repairman telling the owner of a damaged car: "It's totaled."
PRE SOLD FRANCHISE - When a book, comic book, cartoon, or old TV series has a built-in group of fans, it is considered to be a pre-sold franchise. It presumes that a certain number of people are already "sold" on the property and will turn up to see it when the movie comes out. This is not always the case —just ask the producers of The Avengers and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Still, having any group of potential ticket buyers aware of your movie before you go into production is a head start. Even obscure beginnings, like the comic book that spawned Men In B
lack, got started from the belief that even a small fan base will get buzz started with moviegoers. But a pre-sold franchise is also something a spec screenwriter is not likely to own. That should not stop you from creating your own franchises, and I encourage you to create the biggest franchise possible.
PRIMAL — What is basic about a story, a character's goal, or a movie premise is its relation to our inner drives as human beings. Stories of survival, sex, hunger, and revenge connote immediate interest on our part. We will stop and look when these themes are presented to us. We can't help it. We have to look. It's primal. To
you, the screenwriter, this means you must ground every action and story in its primal-ness. When characters are not acting like human beings, when they are not being driven primally, odds are you are testing the patience of the audience. To ask "Is it primal?" is to ask "Is this relevant to a caveman?" The answer must be: Yes!
PROMISE OF THE PREMISE - The premise of a movie, its "What is it?", can only be proven to be satisfying when we see it in action. What is fun, catchy, or hooks our interest about a movie's poster must be paid off once we get inside the theater. If it is not paid off, we the audience will consider it to be a bad experience. We will feel cheated. The promise of the premise are those scenes or scene sequences that exploit the premise to its maximum and are usually found in the fun and games section (pages 30-55) of a screenplay. This is the point where we understand fully what this movie is about. This is why we bought our tickets.
RESIDUALS —- Lovely lime-green envelopes come through the mail to the homes of lucky screenwriters on a quarterly basis. We know what's inside: money! That explains the desire to get a movie made, for its every appearance on TV, every VHS or DVD sale, every foreign manifestation will be tracked by the WGA Residual Department and result in... more residuals! And the amounts are nothing to sneeze at: I have earned over $100,000 in residuals in any career for two movies. And the checks haven't stopped coming, Get enough movies in production and you will be showered in these bonus checks for the rest of your natural life.
