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This week's Answer: Exactly
Speaking Joanne, your
missive is appreciated. I know that "bogged
down" feeling. It makes me want to pull out my kazoo and play "I've Got Those Bogged Down Blues,
Baby." Or, come to think of it, it puts me more
in the mood to run to my zither and crank out a chorus of
"Formatting Blues." I relate. I
really relate.
Screenwriting is a demanding mistress
(I wish she'd just accept the apartment, the car, and the
"bling" and let it go at that) and
"exact" is a good word to describe her overall
personality. The problem is that in order to give
screenplays a raison d'etre (I was never absolutely
clear exactly what that is, but I like to use the word
once in a while to look like I do. I think it has
something to do with the rights for French raisins.), they
have to be made into movies, and movies have a time limit
(mostly, I think, because audiences have to eventually
leave their seats so they can go to the bathroom -- and,
nowadays, make cell-phone calls every thirteen and a half
minutes. Oh, wait. They do that anyway without
leaving their seats. What was I thinking?). So
this time limitation, along with the fundamentals of
telling a story, which somebody back in Greece a long time
ago by the name of Aristotle -- whoever he was -- talked
about (I still don't see the big deal about him. I
mean, the guy wore togas, gave speeches on building steps,
and never saw a movie. So what makes him the big
authority on screenplays?!) puts many demands
on those who write for film and requires the exactness
that has been mentioned.
But let's see if I can reframe the
idea of exactness so it's more palatable:
Are you willing to be as exact as
possible with your screenplay to prompt a producer to see
how he or she can exactly envision the film that could be
made from it?
Would you like the producer who buys
your script to not be adequately exact and neglect putting
your name in the credits as the screenwriter?
Would you like him to not be exact
and leave a number of zeros off your check?
Exactly.
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