Attend our next speakeasy

Article and image by Ian Long

“Let’s start on page one, shall we? Now, listen …”

The mood of the generally affable Paul Viragh, screenwriter of BRAZZA, SEX & DRUGS & ROCK N ROLL, THE FACE OF AN ANGEL and others, darkens a little when he remembers a meeting with a Script Executive who proceeded to read choice bits of dialogue from his screenplay in an affected, sing-song voice, and went on to preface each of his comments with the phrase:

“Now, if I’d have written this …”

The topic of the evening was script feedback - where to get it, how to take it, how to use it, and how to give it. And this is definitely not how to give it.

Early days

Paul has come a long way since this incident, and since the evening, long ago, when he and good pal Andy Serkis, both struggling actors trying to make headway in the film business, met up in Soho’s Blue Posts pub to plan their next move – and were so short of money that they had to share a pint. In fact he’s come as far as Fitzrovia’s Wheatsheaf pub, on the other side of Oxford Street, where he was the guest for our first Speakeasy event.

We’re hosting these night on the first Tuesday of every month: informal chats with writers, directors, agents and anyone else who might be of special interest to screenwriters.

Paul looks back to those early days, when he and a number of his actor friends were trying out other roles to give them more purchase in the industry, with mixed feelings. “We were all looking for some kind of validation,” he says, “and that was a long time coming.”

Fathers and sons

Paul wrote SEX & DRUGS & ROCK N ROLL on spec – “no one pays you for your first script” – and admits that he was more intrigued by the character of Ian Dury (charismatic and talented, but a tyrannical monster of ego), than by his music. And, for Paul, the real topic of the film was the relationship between Dury and his son.

Both Viragh and Serkis (who played Dury brilliantly) knew how it felt to have an absent father, and some scenes were lifted directly from their own lives rather than Dury’s. “You’ve got to write a human being,” Viragh says, and it’s clear that for him achieving emotional truth is more important than the niceties of biography.

Looking for funding

Many of the studio executives he approached for funding demurred with the tired fob-off that Dury was “an unsympathetic character” (Viragh notes that DOWNFALL, the massively successful, multi award-winning biopic of Adolf Hitler, had just been released when he was having these meetings).

Once he’d secured a large tranche of funding from one source, though, previously timid investors decided that unsympathetic characters may, after all, have a certain appeal – proving that the herd instinct is alive and well in the film business.

“Why don’t you make something up?”
​
Paul says his daughter often asks him this question, complaining that his scripts tend to be true life stories rather than free flights of fancy. He reminds us that a very high percentage of released films are, in fact, biopics – or are based on books.

Telling the life of a real person (particularly one who is well-known) gives you a head start in terms of recognition value.

​And – to return to the subject of bad advice – writing about real people protects you from script editors and executives whose notes about your protagonist go along the lines of:

​"What if she was a man?”



Want to meet other writers and hear industry advice from pros?

Attend this month's speakeasy on Feb. 26th 

Del Toro’s story suggests that, rather than being one-dimensional figures, monsters can have depth and nuance, embodying positive aspects as well as threats.

Which can make for complex, intriguing, dramatic stories.

As writers, we can blur or eradicate the line between heroes and monsters. We can use them to raise deep questions about human psychology, and show how “ordinary people” strike bargains with them, for various reasons - perhaps themselves becoming monstrous in the process.

And as we’ve seen with del Toro’s own health problems, dealing with monsters also has its costs – which is also inherently dramatic.

This is something that the creators of shows like BEING HUMAN, DEXTER, HANNIBAL, TRUE DETECTIVE and PENNY DREADFUL have recognised.

All these shows have great strengths, but Penny Dreadful may be the richest of them. Its creator, John Logan, consciously shaped it as a primer of ideas about monsters and monstrousness, which he used to think the subject through from just about every angle.

Like del Toro’s tales, Penny Dreadful is inspired by Victorian Gothic, and its lead characters are a kind of incestuous, dysfunctional family. Sir Malcolm Murray is the obsessed, driven father-figure. Vanessa Ives, Ethan Chandler and Victor Frankenstein are his wild children.

And as we know, Victor also has a "child" of his own: interestingly, both he and the Creature use the epithet “demon” to refer to each other.

As Vanessa asks the flamboyantly amoral Dorian Gray: “To be alien, to be disenfranchised from those around you, is that not a terrible curse?”

“To be different, to be powerful – is that not a divine gift?” Dorian suavely replies.

It's a story about outcasts who find a common cause. But the things that keep them together are fragile and constantly under threat.

Q: But where did Logan’s interest in monsters come from?

A: It’s all about sex.

“I've always been drawn to monsters,” Logan says. “As I grew older, I realised what really attracted me to them was … to do with growing up as a gay man.”

The teenage Logan saw the gay area of New York as “a forbidden, sexy, scary place”. Although he quickly realised that this is was where he belonged, "to step through that door would mark me as different from my brother, my family, my schoolfriends.”

“The thing that made me alien and different and monstrous to some people is also the thing that empowered me and gave me a sense of confidence and uniqueness and a drive toward individuality that I think is important for any writer."

It's something that also figures in Hellraiser creator Clive Barker's relationship with writing - to name just one other example. John Logan goes on to say:

​"Until I grappled with and accepted the reality of who and what I was – which many people would consider monstrous – I couldn't be the artist or the man that I am.”

I've talked a lot about writers' potentially positive relationship with monsters.

Does it seem likely, though, that audiences - the fine, decent, upstanding bulk of the population - would feel any affinity with creatures that overturn ideas of normality?

However - difference isn’t just felt by gay people, writers, or thin, almost albino boys.

The brutal fact is that we all share this experience at some stage in our lives. And we all have transgressive, antisocial drives that we may not want to enact, but which we need to acknowledge at some level. Monsters can help us do this.

Why else would people feel so intrigued by the Child Catcher, Freddie Kruger or Hannibal Lecter?

And why else would all the films and TV shows I've mentioned be so popular?

Exploring difference in this way can bring you closer to audiences, not further away from them.

For now, though, let’s look at a great example of making and breaking patterns in the first season of HBO’s TRUE DETECTIVE.

Spoiler Alert: I’ll be revealing one particularly surprising moment of the story, although the season has many other intriguing character and plot elements.

The Characters

The story features Louisiana State Police homicide detectives Rustin “Rust” Cohle (Matthew McConaughey) and Martin “Marty” Hart (Woody Harrelson).

The two men embody contradictory sides of the standard “hard-boiled” detective – aspects which are usually contained in a single protagonist.

Hart is an unreflective man of action, all fists and fiery passion, while Cohle is a sort of nihilist philosopher-cum-policeman - detached, despairing, unfathomable. Both share an overarching sense of alienation, of being at odds with life.

The Unforgettable Sequence

For much of the season, Cohle and Hart's spoken testimony squares with what we're seeing onscreen. But in “The Secret Fate Of All Life,” the fifth of the season’s eight episodes, this pattern is broken.

The duo track a suspect to a meth lab hidden deep in the bayou. Finding two kidnapped and abused children in the compound, Hart is incensed and unnecessarily kills the suspect, who he’s already taken into custody.

But the voiceover we hear from the men as we watch these events tells an entirely different story.

As Hart and Cohle tell us that they came under intense fire and were obliged to retaliate, the scene that we see is quiet and tranquil. And then we watch as the men fake evidence of a desperate shootout which never happened.

They’re subsequently decorated and promoted for their heroism. But they've become conspirators in covering up a murder. It’s a lie on which the rest of their lives will be founded.

The Emotional Impact

I vividly remember the sense of unreality I experienced when watching this scene: a feeling which drew its power purely from the way in which information was “coded” in the story. With it went feelings of bafflement, almost betrayal, as the visual information I was receiving departed so far from the characters’ verbal descriptions.

It’s these moments of thrilling strangeness – when viewers feel cut adrift and experience something genuinely new and compelling – that we need to look for in our stories, and which makes them truly memorable. ​

And when reading scripts, these are the moments that producers and directors are searching for.

The brilliant title sequence which includes the images in this article were made by Elastic, and you can find out more about the ideas behind the sequence here.

​For more details and to book on my Deep Narrative Design workshop, click here.

Thank you for reading, and please let me know of any thoughts or comments.
​

Some writers aren’t keen on Horror. They see it as dumb, low-rent and crass.

I think they’re missing out on some of the things that make cinema vibrant, powerful and entertaining.

My Writing Horror Now workshop on July 9 is there to supercharge people who already love the genre - and to help others see what they’re missing.

So - to lure you into my (cackle) lair, here are 6 reasons why you should be writing Horror (even if you don’t think you want to).

1. Politics, Society, Religion, Sexuality...

…Interested in any of these issues? Want to comment on them in ways that will make people sit up and listen?

The genre’s visceral, unbound quality lets you talk about social and political ideas in ways that are devastating– and memorable.

Think of recent films like GET OUT and UNDER THE SHADOW. Or older ones like CARRIE, the TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE and JAWS.

All had intriguing depths and important things to say about the way we're living.

Horror cuts to the chase, dealing with deep, primal issues that other genres skate around.

2. Visual and cinematic qualities

Horror intensifies stories which might otherwise lack cinematic interest, opening up visual possibilities, heightening emotions, increasing stakes.

Sound is also crucial (many of cinema’s breakthrough sound and music design came in the Horror genre).

In other genres, a problem may be talked about, or acted out. In Horror, it’s embodied … by a monster. And it’s up to you how that monster looks, acts and sounds.

3. Popularity with audiences (and critics)

Horror is the most profitable genre of them all, and producers always want good, original Horror scripts. Many popular recent TV shows (HANNIBAL, BEING HUMAN, DEXTER) have strong horror aspects.

And lots of the movies that “break out” of their home territories and achieve international success are in the Horror genre (TROLLHUNTER, LET THE RIGHT ONE IN, THE ORPHANAGE).

And when the films are good, the critics will also come on board; all these films were very well reviewed.

4. The Illustrious Tradition

Horror has no lack of cultural or intellectual credibility. Many great writers have contributed to the genre – from Daphne du Maurier, Susan Hill and Hilary Mantel to Charles Dickens, Franz Kafka and Honoré de Balzac (not forgetting Mary Shelley).

Join this gilded roll-call with your own contributions!

5. The Creative Challenge

Horror is an extremely malleable genre which gives writers the chance to reform the world and its possibilities at will. It also blends in interesting ways with other genres.

Think of David Cronenberg’s comment that his film THE BROOD was a more truthful account of a marriage break-up than KRAMER VS KRAMER.

The workshop will look at ways of making something new from this “blending” process.

Take up Horror's creative challenges and give your imagination free rein!

6. Horror isn’t polite

At times when cultural mores become a little rigid, some outlet is necessary for us to say the unsayable, and to give vent to the dark things that underlie our psychology and culture.

Horror is always going to provide these opportunities (humour does something similar - and there's a strange bond between these seemingly very different genres).

Use Horror to indulge your inner punk-rocker, to be provocative, and to experiment with divergent ideas. Audiences will love you for it.
​

For more information on the workshop, and to book, click here.

By Charles Harris

Your script is complete.  Everything works - but there is one more thing that you absolutely must deal with before you send it out.
 
If you've been following this series of blogs from the start, you've taken your idea from first spark to final draft, step by step, and learned a great deal about your story along the way.

You've honed the premise until it had that spark that lit up when you pitched it. You developed it into an outline that worked, with an intriguing beginning, a dynamic middle and a surprising yet satisfying end.

You've created a first draft that was a mess, but contained a few hidden gems.

You edited for structure, character, scene dynamics, dialogue and description until the whole screenplay worked from fade up to fade out.

In the previous draft, you faced up to the "X Factor" - the one thing (perhaps more than one thing) you've been putting off dealing with.

One more thing...

It's done and ready to send out. Yes?

Not quite.

Because you only get one chance to sell your script to any one buyer. And if there's an obvious flaw that you've missed, then you've blown it.

Before you send it out, you need feedback.
 
So far you've been doing this all on your own. You've been writing - to quote Stephen King - "with the study door closed." Now it's time to open up.

Screenwriting is a collaborative art, and no script has ever succeeded without feedback. Now is the time to get it.

If you thought the previous steps were scary, this will be the scariest yet. Nobody likes getting feedback.

The only thing worse than negative feedback is no feedback!

We all want to believe our writing is brilliant and unimprovable. And we're all wrong. Even the greatest novelists have editors. The greatest playwrights listen to their actors and directors.

Better that you know the problems now, before you've tried to sell the script, than after, when it's too late.
 
But listening to feedback is an art in itself. Not every response is right. Not every suggestion should be followed. How do you know which to listen to and which to ignore?
 
First, take the process step by step.
 
Before you send off for a report, tidy the draft. Check carefully for typos and spelling mistakes. Put it in the right format - this is crucial (if you aren't sure about screenplay format, I've written a simple guide and a couple of templates that you can download for free here).

Check also for inconsistencies (such as characters whose names change) and factual errors (Dr Google is a great help here).
 
Then , If you've never had feedback before, begin slowly. Start with a couple of friends, who will (hopefully) let you down lightly.

What do you want to know?

If they've never read a screenplay before, you may have to give them some guidance.

Suggest they imagine their favourite actors in the roles. Ask them to be constructive (not "this sucks" but "here's a place you could improve!")

I also like to give them some questions to think about, such as "Pause at page 10. What do you think is about to happen? What do you think of Josie? Do you care about her?" Etc.

Give them a reasonable time to read the script and then allow yourself time to make any changes that seem to be indicated (see below).

This may entail retaking all the steps from first idea onwards. But if so, don't complain, celebrate.

You're making it better.

Bring on the pros

Once you've gone though all this, you must get professional feedback. Useful as friends may be, they probably don't know the industry. And even if they do, they want to be nice.

Even after all my years and awards, I still get at least two professional reports on any screenplay or novel before I send it. And there are always issues that come up.

The one time I didn't, I ended up spending two years after filming, fixing the problems that should have been spotted in the script - at far greater expense!

Of course, not even the best feedback must be listened to and evaluated. 

My rule is you have to listen when they say something needs to be fixed - but you don't have to agree with their suggestion of how to fix it!

Sometimes, you just know a criticism is wrong.

Sometimes, you just know it's right! Especially if you find yourself getting angry or defensive. That's always a good sign that you need to listen.

Sometimes, it's right to follow recommendations - sometimes the opposite will work just as well. 

Sending one comedy script for feedback, I was told I should make it funnier.

In fact, I made it more serious. The resultant balance of light and dark actually made the remaining comedy work better.

And then you really are finally done

You've listened to the feedback. You've decided what it means. You've taken note. You've made the necessary changes.

You're finished. Celebrate. Well done!

You've done something that most people never do - however much they talk about it. You've written a professional, polished screenplay.

Start researching the right people to send it to - and begin sending it out.

And while you're doing that - start work on the next....

​<previous
 
Charles Harris' best-selling satirical thriller novel The Breaking of Liam Glass is out now, published by Marble City Publishing. It has been selected as Finalist for a Wishing Shelf Book Award
​

To get you in the spirit for our Neo Noir workshop on January 31st, let’s explore how this flexible genre can be adapted to many different circumstances

1. Neo Noir is international!

Many people think Noir is an American form – even though it was made in Germany (M, 1931) and France (Pépé le Moko​, 1937) years before the classic US era.

In fact, the themes in Noir and its contemporary cousin, Neo Noir, can apply to a host of settings.

For instance, as detailed in a recent BBC radio programme, there’s currently an explosion of Noir in the Arab world – particularly Egypt, Morocco, and Algeria.

2. It works well in big cities - any big cities

Neo Noir can be made in many settings, but it thrives on the energy of cities, where people are crammed together and there’s a thrusting sense of money, modernity, crime, struggle and corruption.

So it should be no surprise that Cairo, with its 20-million population (one LA and two NYCs hitched together, anyone?) works well as a setting.

We’ve been blown away by Neo Noirs brewed in mega-metropolises like Seoul (A BITTERSWEET LIFE) and Rio de Janeiro (CITY OF GOD). So where's next? Nanhui New City? Bucharest?

3. Neo Noir can be a great vehicle for political themes

Raymond Chandler’s essay The Simple Art of Murder suggests that all crime novels are political.

In the Noir world, Chandler says, gangsters can rule nations and cities; men who made their money from brothels can own hotels, apartment houses and celebrated restaurants; a screen star may be working for a mob; and “the mayor of your town may have condoned murder as an instrument of money-making.”

Arab writers in particular are all too used to the misdeeds of their gangster ruling classes, and they know how Noir can be used to shine a light on them. 

4. And sometimes its targets are surprising

Did you know that the woes of the welfare state are at the heart of Nordic Noir?

The shadow side of a squeaky-clean modern society is central to Scandinavian stories from Lars Von Trier’s mini-series THE KINGDOM (set in a state hospital), to THE KILLING, THE BRIDGE and BORGEN.

Take LET THE RIGHT ONE IN (a horror film with Noir aspects). It’s set in Blackeberg, a neighbourhood in the showcase Swedish city of Vallingby.

Here, a communal rural past has been swapped for a vision of rational, state-planned ‘perfection’ – but one which threatens social and familial bonds. And, as we know, an older threat is also rearing its head…

5. Manifestos can help creativity
​
In an echo of state plans for flawed Nordic Utopias, Ingolf Gabold, head of the dramatic fiction department of DR, the public channel responsible for the Danish TV Noirs, used a Dogma-style manifesto (with different content) to shape its shows.

The manifesto shaped the company's output and production methods, and - crucially - its attitude to writers (putting them at the centre of the creative process, rather than seeing them as an unfortunate side-issue).

Sometimes it's good to have a clear vision of where you want to go, so why not write a manifesto?

6. Murder is usually the beginning – but it's a means to an end

What process could lead to the taking of a human life? Who was involved, what was the logic, and what stood to be gained? Tracing this is often the crux of a Noir story.

But once we have the pretext, it can lead us in any direction that a writer wants to go.

As Egyptian novelist/screenwriter Ahmed Mourad (once ex-President Hosni Mubarak’s personal photographer, so a fly-on-the-wall observer of the inner world of power) says:

“While the hero is solving the case, which is merely the means, we get to see every level of Egyptian society. It’s like cutting a cake with a knife. Each layer is clearly exposed. The crime is only the beginning: we need to see how a whole society works to produce it.”

7. Noir reaches audiences!

Crime stories, particularly ones with the extra twist ​of Noir, have a wide appeal.

Would we be thinking about the problems of the Scandinavian welfare state if Nordic Noir hadn’t made them thrilling and compulsive?

And Neo Noir can morph into many different forms to reach its audiences: films, novels, TV series and comics (like Magdy El Shafee’s Cairo-set Metro).
​

It isn't really a trick question, but the most important ingredient of suspense is the one thing we should always have in mind when writing screenplays:

Emotion.

In other words, we need to care about - or at least empathise with - the character at the centre of the narrative, who is the subject of the suspense.

(Successful screenwriting is almost always about making yourself go back to basic principles).

Misery - an example of empathetic identification

In MISERY (1990, directed by Rob Reiner, script by William Goldman, from the novel by Stephen King) there's only a very short time to sketch in Paul Sheldon's character before he's kidnapped by Annie Wilkes. 

But the filmmakers manage to give us enough clues for us to read his character and see him as someone we are willing to identify with. 

* Paul is an accomplished, successful novelist, which adds charisma.

* He has high aspirations and isn't driven by profit; he wants to stop writing the successful 'Misery' series and do something more creative.

* He has a good working relationship with his female agent, who clearly likes him.

* He's caring (he wants to see his family in time for Christmas). 

* The hotel manager speaks well of him (we often judge people by how they deal with those in 'subordinate' positions). 

* He's handsome and well-dressed - but not fussily so.

After the accident (which later turns out to have been deliberately staged by Kathy), there are further reasons for identification and empathy:

* Crucially, Paul hasn't become a victim through greed or stupidity, or a bad decision; anyone in his position would have suffered the same fate.

* He's badly injured and disoriented. 

* He's at the mercy of someone who is powerful, unpredictable and terrifying.

* Soon after we've met him, he has become very vulnerable.

* He employs great resolve and ingenuity to deal with his situation

So when suspense is applied to his attempts to escape from Annie, we're "in there with him" - our emotions are fully engaged, and we're not just watching from a position of detached interest.

FIND OUT ALL ABOUT SUSPENSE HERE!

Although emotion, empathy and identification are the basic preconditions for suspense, there is much more to learn about this crucial aspect of storytelling.

And you can do this at our SUSPENSE IN STORIES workshop.

DATE AND TIME

Sunday 15 April
​Registration - 10.15
10.30am - 5.30pm

VENUE

TOMPION HALL
40 Percival Street 
London
EC1V 0HX

Nearest tube:  Angel

MAP

Click here to see a map.


Click here for more, and to book.

The workshop examines the changing techniques of suspense as they apply to many genres, and to films, TV series, and novels.

The Tutor - Ian Long

I'm a screenwriter, script editor and Euroscript's Head of Consultancy. I teach workshops in various genres (Neo Noir, Horror, Science Fiction) as well as Suspense in Stories and Creating Fear in Films.

​

​“Look at that subtle off-white colouring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh my God, it even has a watermark!”  Comparing business cards in AMERICAN PSYCHO 

​Euroscript is the trusted partner of London Screenwriters’ Festival when it comes to script feedback.

Each year we help hundreds of writers at our script clinics and drop-in desk. For many, it’s the highlight of their festival – maybe because it’s the one part which is all about them and their work.

Through experience, we know the dos and don’ts of attending the world’s biggest professional screenwriting event.

So here are our top ten tips for a successful visit to LSF 2017.

1. Plan ahead

Really study the LSF's schedule before the festival.

Focus on the people you want to meet and the sessions you want to hear. Write an itinerary.

But be flexible, too, and ready to catch unexpected opportunities.

2. Bring plenty of business cards…

Make sure they’re printed on white card, so people can make notes about how wonderful you were after you've gone.

(Subtle off-white will also work.)

When you get a card from someone else, wait until they're out of sight, then make notes on it for your own use. Who they are, what they do.

We guarantee you'll have forgotten your own name by day two.

3. …and network like crazy.

Talk to everyone.

Exchange ideas with other writers; they may become future collaborators. 

Pitch your stories to producers: they may get your movie made. And if they’re at the LSF, they probably want to be pitched to.

But whether you’re pitching an idea to the producers’ panel, or more informally …

4. You need a script!

One that you can immediately send to anyone who's interested.

There isn’t much point in enthusing people with your great idea, then telling them they’ll have to wait six months while you get it down on paper.

Don’t give them an excuse to forget about you.

5. And you need to have had feedback on your script.

We’re not saying this just because it's our job.

You really do need an objective assessment of your script's strengths and weaknesses by someone who knows what they're talking about, and to have acted on their advice, before you hand it to producers.

Because you only get one chance to submit it!

You can find out about our feedback services here.

6. Feedback takes time to absorb

Understanding the points an editor is making, asking questions to clarify what's been said, seeing how you can creatively apply the ideas to your story - it all takes time.

Many points will be made ​in the form of questions, throwing the creative onus back onto you, so you must allow yourself a period to reflect and revise.

People often underestimate the time needed to deal with feedback. 

If you leave it all to the last minute, the process will feel horribly rushed. You won’t enjoy it, and your script won't benefit in the way it should.

The good news is...

7. You have time to get your script in shape

Now is a good time to work on your story.

There’s the whole of August - and more - to get some feedback, to focus and refine your project, and also to put a great one-page outline and fluent pitch together.

We can help with all this.

8. Don’t be a stranger

When you come to the festival, make sure you visit us at the friendly Euroscript drop-in desk, which is open to all. 

You can ask questions, share triumphs or disasters, practise pitches...

...or just chew the fat about screenwriting in general.

9. Afterwards - rest, recuperate, respond

If possible, don't plan anything important for at least three days after LSF. 

You'll crash out for the first two.

Then you'll need time for following up all the contacts you made.

10. Give yourself time to debrief. 

Write down everything that went well - and not so well.

And what you now realise you need to learn in the future.

Have you got any great tips of your own for people attending the Festival?

If so, please add them in the Comments below.

AND SAVE ON TICKET PRICES WITH US!

If you book through Euroscript, you get £23 off the price for LSF.

Just write EUROSCRIPT-17X in the 'ENTER PROMOTIONAL CODE' box below.

​Add that up, and it's a happy £103 present from all of us at Euroscript.

Meanwhile, good luck from all of us as you prepare for LSF, and we look forward to seeing you there.