Emotional Logic in the Hero’s Journey Source: @ozzywood #screenwriting #film #screenplay “This post is for those in the latter category. Those who claim that overly structured stories don’t work. Let me begin by saying I yet have to read an Australian script that is ‘overly structured’. In fact, there is no such thing as ‘overly structured’. Scripts are ‘unoriginal’, ‘boring’ or ‘predictable’. But ‘overly structured’? No. Among the most mathematically structured scripts I know are The Untouchables andThe Incredibles. Did you find those boring or predictable? Probably not. Those who don’t see the merit in strong structure skills mostly haven’t done the hard work. Oh, and before I see the same hands go up again, let me state the obvious: you don’t write in the creative zone while thinking of structure. You only get to look at your story structure when you’re in the left brain. Over time, structure skills become second nature in the same way you drive your car without thinking about how you shift gears or which foot to use to break. Why movie structure works Movie structure is nothing more or less than emotional logic. It is the order of things as we understand them subliminally, on a deeper level. It is the psychology of characters as we experience it in our everyday lives. Recently a student wanted to write a story about a character going through the various stages of grief. No coincidence that these stages match beautifully with the Hero’s Journey. Movie structure is nothing more or less than emotional logic. Why? Because this model is all about the necessary steps a character needs to go through before we believe that this character can change. We’re talking here about change of any kind. Have a look at the Kübler-Ross model with the 5 stages of grief, compared with some of the Hero’s Journey stages. Kübler-Ross modelThe Hero’s JourneyLossCall to AdventureDenialRefusal of the CallAngerTestsBargainingApproach to the Inmost CaveDepressionOrdealAcceptanceResurrection Another student once asked me if there is a correlation between the Hero’s 12 journey stages and the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. The answer is: yes, but not because of the number twelve. In fact Joseph Campbell used a few more stages than Vogler’s twelve. Wherever we see character change or any behavioral change such as addiction recovery, the character will have gone through a minimal number of steps, or we won’t buy it.  Character change follows certain patterns and this emotional logic is reflected in the 3-Act Structure and Hero’s Journey. It is firmly grounded in human psychology and therefore ignoring it makes your story unbelievable to a mainstream audience…..”
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Emotional Logic in the Hero’s Journey

Source: @ozzywood

#screenwriting #film #screenplay

“This post is for those in the latter category. Those who claim that overly structured stories don’t work.

Let me begin by saying I yet have to read an Australian script that is ‘overly structured’. In fact, there is no such thing as ‘overly structured’. Scripts are ‘unoriginal’, ‘boring’ or ‘predictable’. But ‘overly structured’? No. Among the most mathematically structured scripts I know are The Untouchables andThe Incredibles. Did you find those boring or predictable? Probably not.

Those who don’t see the merit in strong structure skills mostly haven’t done the hard work.

Oh, and before I see the same hands go up again, let me state the obvious: you don’t write in the creative zone while thinking of structure. You only get to look at your story structure when you’re in the left brain. Over time, structure skills become second nature in the same way you drive your car without thinking about how you shift gears or which foot to use to break.

Why movie structure works

Movie structure is nothing more or less than emotional logic. It is the order of things as we understand them subliminally, on a deeper level. It is the psychology of characters as we experience it in our everyday lives.

Recently a student wanted to write a story about a character going through the various stages of grief. No coincidence that these stages match beautifully with the Hero’s Journey.

Movie structure is nothing more or less than emotional logic.

Why?

Because this model is all about the necessary steps a character needs to go through before we believe that this character can change.

We’re talking here about change of any kind. Have a look at the Kübler-Ross model with the 5 stages of grief, compared with some of the Hero’s Journey stages.

Kübler-Ross modelThe Hero’s JourneyLossCall to AdventureDenialRefusal of the CallAngerTestsBargainingApproach to the Inmost CaveDepressionOrdealAcceptanceResurrection

Another student once asked me if there is a correlation between the Hero’s 12 journey stages and the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. The answer is: yes, but not because of the number twelve. In fact Joseph Campbell used a few more stages than Vogler’s twelve.

Wherever we see character change or any behavioral change such as addiction recovery, the character will have gone through a minimal number of steps, or we won’t buy it.  Character change follows certain patterns and this emotional logic is reflected in the 3-Act Structure and Hero’s Journey. It is firmly grounded in human psychology and therefore ignoring it makes your story unbelievable to a mainstream audience…..”

The Business of Screenwriting: Three scripts Source: @GoIntoTheStory #screenwriting #film #screenplay “This is advice for the front end of your life as a screenwriter. Advice you may not want to hear… but advice you need to hear. Three scripts. Don’t even contemplate working in Hollywood as a writer until you’ve completed at least three scripts. You may think you know your way around a screenplay after you’ve written your first one. Trust me, you don’t. After finishing your second script, you are amazed at how much further along you have come in your understanding of the craft. You’re still not where you need to be yet. In my experience working with writers, It’s not until at least your third script that you can distinguish between your metaphorical ass and metaphorical hole-in-the-ground. You can study the craft, you can read books, you can take classes, you can watch movies, and all that you should be doing. But there is a kind of knowledge you can only get by writing and completing scripts, a conscious and intuitive understanding of the craft you must have to succeed as a working writer. Why three? Why not five? Ten? In all honesty, after you’ve written five scripts, you will look back at the You Who Wrote Three Scripts and say, “What the hell was I thinking?” And when you’ve written ten scripts, you’ll reflect back on You Who Wrote Five Scripts and say, “Gawd, what I didn’t know.” You will always be learning. So why three? Oh, I could give you all sorts of theories… how after 1 and 2, three is the first number to signify a pattern… how there may be a synergistic connection to a story’s three acts… but in truth I choose three because K-9 was my third script, and I sold that as  spec. Hey, if it worked for me, maybe it can work for you! Now let me share something important. I deal with this all the time: A writer who is finishing their very first screenplay. And they are consumed with the idea about how they are going to use it to get representation. Fine. I get their enthusiasm. Finishing that first script is important, perhaps the single biggest step in a writer’s career path because it proves you can do it. The first script separates you from all the people out there who simply talk about writing a script, but never do. So please understand, I grasp the significance of that first script. But imagine for a moment it’s you who has just finished that first script. We are talking about it and you utter these words: “How do I get an agent or a manager?” This is a scenario I want you to consider. Let’s say you blind query 500 managers. You get that script to a manager who reads it, contacts you, and agrees to take you on. Then that script goes around town and you start to take meetings. One of the meetings goes great. They hit you up with a story they have in development. It needs a fresh take. You throw out a few ideas off the top of your head. Lo and behold, they love your ideas! And the next thing you know, you have landed your first professional writing gig. You get an agent! You get a lawyer! You get a hangover from a celebratory night on the town! Cut to your lawyer’s office. You’re sitting at a table. In front of you is a contract. For this vaunted writing gig. And right there in black and white is a date: 10 weeks from today. That is the day you will be contractually obligated to deliver the draft of the script. Your script………”
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The Business of Screenwriting: Three scripts

Source: @GoIntoTheStory

#screenwriting #film #screenplay

“This is advice for the front end of your life as a screenwriter. Advice you may not want to hear… but advice you need to hear.

Three scripts. Don’t even contemplate working in Hollywood as a writer until you’ve completed at least three scripts.

You may think you know your way around a screenplay after you’ve written your first one.

Trust me, you don’t.

After finishing your second script, you are amazed at how much further along you have come in your understanding of the craft.

You’re still not where you need to be yet.

In my experience working with writers, It’s not until at least your third script that you can distinguish between your metaphorical ass and metaphorical hole-in-the-ground.

You can study the craft, you can read books, you can take classes, you can watch movies, and all that you should be doing. But there is a kind of knowledge you can only get by writing and completing scripts, a conscious and intuitive understanding of the craft you must have to succeed as a working writer.

Why three? Why not five? Ten?

In all honesty, after you’ve written five scripts, you will look back at the You Who Wrote Three Scripts and say, “What the hell was I thinking?” And when you’ve written ten scripts, you’ll reflect back on You Who Wrote Five Scripts and say, “Gawd, what I didn’t know.”

You will always be learning.

So why three? Oh, I could give you all sorts of theories… how after 1 and 2, three is the first number to signify a pattern… how there may be a synergistic connection to a story’s three acts… but in truth I choose three because K-9 was my third script, and I sold that as  spec. Hey, if it worked for me, maybe it can work for you!

Now let me share something important. I deal with this all the time: A writer who is finishing their very first screenplay. And they are consumed with the idea about how they are going to use it to get representation.

Fine. I get their enthusiasm. Finishing that first script is important, perhaps the single biggest step in a writer’s career path because it proves you can do it. The first script separates you from all the people out there who simply talk about writing a script, but never do.

So please understand, I grasp the significance of that first script.

But imagine for a moment it’s you who has just finished that first script. We are talking about it and you utter these words: “How do I get an agent or a manager?”

This is a scenario I want you to consider.

Let’s say you blind query 500 managers.

You get that script to a manager who reads it, contacts you, and agrees to take you on.

Then that script goes around town and you start to take meetings.

One of the meetings goes great. They hit you up with a story they have in development. It needs a fresh take. You throw out a few ideas off the top of your head.

Lo and behold, they love your ideas! And the next thing you know, you have landed your first professional writing gig.

You get an agent! You get a lawyer! You get a hangover from a celebratory night on the town!

Cut to your lawyer’s office. You’re sitting at a table. In front of you is a contract. For this vaunted writing gig. And right there in black and white is a date: 10 weeks from today.

That is the day you will be contractually obligated to deliver the draft of the script.

Your script………”

How to Survive Rejection Source: @psychtoday #screenwriting #film #screenplay “At some point early on in a Hollywood career—whether an actor, writer or director—a person has to come to terms with rejection. I ought to know. Prior to becoming a licensed psychotherapist, I spent 17 years as a screenwriter. Now, in addition to my private practice, I write novels and columns like this, so I certainly have a very clear view of rejection—I hate it. Occasionally I’ll read about some creative type who’s apparently so well-adjusted that he sees having his work rejected as just another event, one bead on a long string of similar beads; in other words, the rejection has no more (nor less) meaning than having his work accepted. I confess, I can only stand back and admire such creatures. And wonder what planet they come from. Because frankly, when I toiled in the screenwriting vineyards, I wanted people not only to accept what I wrote, but like it. A lot. Hell, I wanted them to love it. (Even while acknowledging the well-known truism that, at a certain level, they could never love it enough…) On the other hand, having my work rejected was cause for anguish of near-Biblical proportions—the familiar gnashing of teeth, rending of garments, etc. On one such occasion, a friend of mine looked at me and said, somewhat testily, “For God’s sake, don’t take it personally.” “How should I take it?” I replied. “Impersonally?” That, in a nutshell, is the paradox of rejection. It isn’t intended as personal, but it’s impossible not to experience it that way. Let me give you an example. Years ago, as part of the writing staff on a popular sitcom, I joined the producers in a casting session, auditioning actresses for a guest shot on the show. After seeing about a dozen young women read, we chose one. Later, on my way out of the building, I happened to overhear a couple of the others walking away, dejected…..”
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How to Survive Rejection

Source: @psychtoday

#screenwriting #film #screenplay

“At some point early on in a Hollywood career—whether an actor, writer or director—a person has to come to terms with rejection. I ought to know. Prior to becoming a licensed psychotherapist, I spent 17 years as a screenwriter. Now, in addition to my private practice, I write novels and columns like this, so I certainly have a very clear view of rejection—I hate it.

Occasionally I’ll read about some creative type who’s apparently so well-adjusted that he sees having his work rejected as just another event, one bead on a long string of similar beads; in other words, the rejection has no more (nor less) meaning than having his work accepted.

I confess, I can only stand back and admire such creatures. And wonder what planet they come from.

Because frankly, when I toiled in the screenwriting vineyards, I wanted people not only to accept what I wrote, but like it. A lot. Hell, I wanted them to love it. (Even while acknowledging the well-known truism that, at a certain level, they could never love it enough…)

On the other hand, having my work rejected was cause for anguish of near-Biblical proportions—the familiar gnashing of teeth, rending of garments, etc. On one such occasion, a friend of mine looked at me and said, somewhat testily, “For God’s sake, don’t take it personally.”

“How should I take it?” I replied. “Impersonally?”

That, in a nutshell, is the paradox of rejection. It isn’t intended as personal, but it’s impossible not to experience it that way.

Let me give you an example. Years ago, as part of the writing staff on a popular sitcom, I joined the producers in a casting session, auditioning actresses for a guest shot on the show. After seeing about a dozen young women read, we chose one. Later, on my way out of the building, I happened to overhear a couple of the others walking away, dejected…..”