And I'm back. Sorry for the delay in posting Part II, but I got derailed by a script and a fast-approaching deadline. Excuses, they say, are like assholes... and no one wants to hear assholes. So here's Part II:
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Coverage. More specifically, on whether it can give you valuable, objective feedback on your script.
Like opinions on any other artistic endeavor, opinions on scripts are subjective. So, yes, it is possible that the “relatability” of your protagonist could differ from reader to reader. My method for sorting out whether a script problem really is a problem is to seek notes from more than one reader -- at least on the earliest polished draft.
Let me be clear. I'm not advocating that you mortgage your condo to obtain multiple sources of coverage on every draft of every script. The service can run from $100 to $200 a pop – higher if you want more detailed feedback and more in-depth suggestions on how to fix the perceived problems.
But I honestly believe that if you're going to invest months on a script, it bears careful consideration on how to maximize the return on your investment. From my seat, the financial outlay required to gain insider notes prior to sending my material to grown-ups pales in comparison to the fatal flaws I can fix while basking in sweet anonymity.
Need proof? I'm a working writer; it's how I make my living. I poured an unhealthy level of effort into making IPO as solid a script as it could be. I mean unhealthy. Like many writers, I fell in love with my work. IPO was the cat's frickin' ass and, through my smitten eyes, shined with 10,000 candle-watts of cinematic potential.
Here's a sample of the notes it received, unedited for your dining and dancing pleasure, from people who weren't as blinded by its light:
“For a thriller the concept and resulting treatment is long on dialogue, especially the hyper technical variety, and short on action.”
“While IPO is an interesting concept it depends on talk entirely too much to convey important plot motivation that should be dramatized with a bare minimum of dialogue.”
“The lengthy, hyper technical speeches on computer programming will bewilder audiences young and old alike whose command of computer science is confined to pushing a button, being frustrated with Windows troubleshooters and having to call tech support.”
“Try to come up with a more effective title.”
Ouch. Painful as these notes were to read, they informed the retooling, rethinking and rewriting that led to REALITY CHECK.
When REALITY CHECK was finished and typo-free thanks to my wife's keen editorial skills, it went out for its own round of coverage. That coverage, in turn, yielded its own unique set of notes. Happily, the dialogue was universally flagged as crackling and lifelike. Nary a “hyper technical” to be seen.
As with any feedback, I carefully weighed the implications to the story, noodling with potential fixes and gauging how much “damage” they would do to the existing story. It took two months to incorporate the notes. (Please recall that I work a non-screenwriting writing gig full time.) Other notes, especially ones where no consensus existed among the readers, I chose not to use.
The best thing about coverage? It's your call as to whether you follow each note to the letter or roundly ignore them all.
In 2010, REALITY CHECK made the rounds of several competitions. It cracked the Top 10% in the Nicholl Fellowships and was a semi-finalist in the 14th Annual Fade In Awards and Final Draft's Big Break competition. It was also a Second Rounder in the Austin Film Festival's Screenplay Competition.
And have I incorporated some of the notes that I received from these competitions?
Hey, I'd be an excuse not to.
No comments:
Post a Comment