“You have to protect your writing time. The easiest thing to do on earth is not write.”– William Goldman

“Some can just knock it out and some have to lock themselves in a room and get to a fever pitch of self-loathing before they turn in a first draft. . . . each writer’s process is screwed up in its own way.”– Warren Leight

In the course of every semester at Columbia College and Chicago Filmmakers, I have students who get “blocked.” They outline the whole damn script, take almost a month to do so, have it all laid out before them. Then they sit down at the computer, get about 30 pages in, and…

Nothing.

Maybe it’s the reverse. A writer doesn’t outline, doesn’t figure it all out, structurally, ahead of time. Why take a vacation and figure out every road you’ll drive upon ahead of time? They let their characters surprise them, let their characters talk to them and ultimately drive plot. And this works, for a time. But maybe they come to page 66 and their characters stop talking to them. What happened? What can they do? They are two thirds through the script and are lost, with no road map, no GPS to help. They are screwed.

The irony is, most of the time, the block isn’t a block at all. It’s lack of energy. Something that often goes under the radar in the hundreds of how-to screenwriting manuals is writing routine. When will you write? Which is the best time of day? Do you work better writing an hour a day, or seven hours on Sunday? Do you need solitude or Starbucks? What happens when your kids break into the room with a “Daddy, look at my Lincoln logs! Look at my Lincoln logs! LOOK AT MY LINCOLN LOGS!!!”

Will your crumble?

Energy. What energy are you bringing? If you’re blocked, have you considered that it isn’t because of a lack of a good idea, but because you’re trashed? You’re putting 40 hours in at the job, giving A Energy. You come home to a TO DO list of laundry, work out, shopping, etc–that’s eats up your B Energy. You free up around 10:30pm, take one look at that computer, and flee. No way it’s happening, forget about your A game, you don’t even have your C game to give. Your routine is killing any chance you have to write the script.

You need to consider how important energy is to writing, and prioritize…

I have friends who get up at 6 a.m. to write. They are “morning people” and God knows how they do it ’cause it ain’t me, babe.

I have friends who can write until 2 a.m. These are “late night” people. Likewise, this isn’t my prime time.

Some work at it seven days a week. Some are weekend warriors out on the porch.

I’m jealous of those who steal time at work; close the office door, go at the writing with primo A Energy.

You need to figure it out. Scheme. Lie, steal, cheat–whatever it takes. You have to find the time to make your script happen.

Bring your A Game.

Bring good energy.

If you read this far, you will now be rewarded with a YouTube video, narrated by Hanz and Franz. Only the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Enjoy!

Here’s another monologue that defines character, buried in a dialogue scene, from The Hustler:

Beautiful. And with Paul Newman delivering those lines, this totally defines who Eddie is, what the relationship means to Sarah, adds huge stakes, and foreshadows much of the tragedy to come. Doesn’t get any better. Here’s another one from Hustle and Flow. Read pages one and two from the screenplay below:

HUSTLE AND FLOW SCREENPLAY

Defines world, character, and tone on page 1. Absolute killer, and it’s the first thing you read. Craig Brewer hits us with a straight right to the face. The man can write–you know it from page one. If you can do that with your monologue, go ahead and stick it on page 1. When you think about the odds against selling a spec script, maybe taking the risk is the way to go.

One last monologue that’s a personal favorite is King Of Marvin Gardens. Jack Nicholson tells us how, as a child, he watched his pain-in-the-ass grandfather choke and die on a fish bone–and did nothing to stop it. Lasts six minutes and there’s nothing quite like it. Three cheers to YouTube for having it. Put it on the Netflix cue!

There have been several requests for an example of my $60 Quick Notes package.

I’ve enclosed it on the SCREENWRITING SERVICES page.

I’ll also enclose it here: SCRIPT GODS–$60 NOTES EXAMPLE

Remember, this is not basic coverage. You can go all over the web for that. When working this up, I wanted to give you something that couldn’t be found elsewhere. The Quick Notes are 3 to 5 single-spaced, real time notes. In other words, as I’m reading I’m making notes, then giving them to you, with exact page numbers for each critique. The specificity beats the hell out of basic coverage. I think this is a more effective approach and maximizes the bang for your hard-earned buck. Check the TESTIMONIALS page for those who agree.

Pitch over!

Think of the first five minutes of any movie as real estate. Valuable real estate. All you need is look at the set piece opening scene of a movie like Inglourious Basterds where Colonel Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz) pays a routine visit to a farmer and pressures him to betraying an entire family hiding under the floorboards. This scene sets up the entire movie.

Or more recently, in The Social Network, where Mark Zuckerberg and Erica sit with drinks. Seems casual, but it’s not. It degenerates quickly into a break-up scene. “Going out with you is like dating a Stairmaster.” It’s a critical scene and sets the tone for the entire movie.

Understanding that these first pages are important makes the task of doing what you have to do–in a monologue–seem like pure insanity. Monologues are for plays, not screenplays! No reader wants to see a Velveeta cheese-sized monologue, especially not at the top of the movie.To this I say, tell it to Woody Allen:

There are no absolutes in screenwriting. Sure, starting your movie with a monologue is a risk. It’s just, well, not done! Yet this one page does everything you’re looking for your first five pages to do. It defines Alvy, introduces Annie (conflict), establishes the world (New York), sets up tone (Woody Allen neurotic.)

Monologues can work, can even be the payoff or climax of an entire movie–for instance, the Pacino monologue in Scent Of A Woman. All this said, look at that page!

You’ll need to scrutinize every line. A monologue like this has to be earned. Imagine the reader at a management company, screenplay contest or agent opening up your script to find a full page monologue on page 1. What do you think the reaction will be? And if it isn’t utterly essential or doesn’t kick ass? The reader will be looking for the slush pile, toot-freakin’-sweet.

Point being: Monologues? Can they be done? Sure. But only for the very good, and very, very brave.

While voice is critical, no less important is subtext. As we discussed with dialogue, the goal is to not spell everything out. Say it, without saying it. Look at this passage from Kalifornia:

Looks basic doesn’t it? Looks flat on the page. And it is. It takes actors to fill in the emotional gaps between the words. That is where subtext lies. “There is no mistaking what’s on his mind.” We see this, Carrie sees this. It sets up the pay off at the end of the movie, this emotional attraction. Even something as basic as this accomplishes subtext:

Dialogue needed: Zero. Why is such a short scene needed? It sets up back end emotion and plot. Look at what happens in the next passage, from Kalifornia again.

Information. Who has the information, audience or character? What happens in this scene? What does it accomplish?

Set up the physical attraction between her and Early.

Early’s been in prison. She didn’t know that ‘til now. Neither did we.

Early will have to pay for gas. She (and we) see he has only two dollars. He will get the money by killing a man. We will see that (she won’t), though she’ll be amazed when he pays for the gas in the next scene. Lastly…

This is one of many scenes where something goes unspoken. The sexual attraction, the danger of bad boy Early (one of Brad Pitt’s better, under-appreciated roles). Set up and pay off, like a mathematical equation. Built on short scenes like this.

Remember the delicate balance of the screenplay, how screen direction and dialogue feed off each other. Advanced screenwriting fuses these, hearing the writer’s/character’s POV along with just enough dialogue where needed, as in Bladerunner: