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 (June 1) 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)

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.

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

For more information, and to book for the workshop on June 1, 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.

Your Next Script #11

By Charles Harris

We're almost there. Over the last ten articles we've developed an idea, worked it up as a treatment, written a first draft and revised it to the point when it's almost ready to send out.

But there are two more crucial tasks yet to perform. And the first will often make the most dramatic difference of all.

This is what I call the X factor. Nothing to do with reality TV, the X factor is both simple yet profound. But only you know what that is. 

It could be something you've been meaning to cut - such as a sequence or character you love but which you know isn't working.

It could be something you know you need to add.

It could be some aspect of the script that you're starting to have doubts about. Perhaps the key turning point doesn't do the job as well as it should. Or the premise doesn't totally make sense. 

It's the thing you've been putting off doing - draft after draft.

As a taster for Euroscript's forthcoming Neo Noir workshop on July 8 (more details here), here's a run-down of just one aspect of the genre.

"One day, while taking a look at some vistas in Dad's stereopticon, it hit me that I was just this little girl, born in Texas, whose father was a sign painter, who only had just so many years to live. It sent a chill down my spine and I thought, where would I be this very moment, if Kit had never met me? Or killed anybody..."

Holly Sargis [Sissy Spacek] in Badlands, written and directed by Terrence Malick

The ‘fatal couple’ who spark off something deep and dark in each other is a powerful Noir theme which continues to generate gripping new stories.

In its fascination with divided natures and the tendency to self-betrayal, Noir often collapses the Protagonist and Antagonist into one person.

In ‘fatal couple’ stories, though, the object of interest is a dangerous connection between two people – a connection which will probably spell the end for them (and for many of those unlucky enough to cross their path).

How does the relationship work?

Many new story variations can be found by refining the exact nature of the protagonists’ chemistry:

• Is only one member of the couple truly capable of killing, with the other functioning as their ‘enabler’?
• Do they share the same vision, or are they both mistaking the other for someone else? As in the dreamy voiceovers by Sissy Spacek’s character in Badlands (above).
• Is one of the couple using the other to further their own agenda (Pretty Poison) or are things genuinely mutual? Perhaps the partner who appears to be in control is the one being manipulated?
• Is someone in charge, or is this a truly ‘equal’ relationship? Is one partner underestimating or misunderstanding the intentions of the other?
• What are their motives? Do they feel they have a ‘higher purpose’, or are they cruising on pure devilment?

Gender variations

Although the couple is often composed of a male and a female partner, interesting variations can be found when the protagonists are two males (Rope, In Cold Blood), or two females (Thelma and Louise, Bound). These can be gay or straight, or their orientation may be left ambiguous.

​In the case of two women, there may be an element of going up against the patriarchy and defying gender stereotypes by enjoying wild and abandoned behaviour.

​The sheer act of defiance represents a kind of victory, even if it leads the characters over a cliff.

Q: How much thematic and narrative mileage can you find in rethinking the sexual dynamics of the subgenre?

Is your heart filled with pain?
Shall I come back again?
Tell me, dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Death and resurrection loom large in the legend of Elvis Presley – at least as far back as these lyrics, which he recorded in 1960.

But the theme was given a new twist in Don Coscarelli’s film BUBBA HO-TEP (2002), which features an elderly Elvis (possibly the real article, possibly a lying or delusional impersonator) who is living in a residential care home in rural Texas.

Elvis teams up with another inmate, an elderly black man called Jack who’s convinced that he is the assassinated President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, to fight a monstrous Egyptian mummy which is terrorising the home.

Elvis: But Jack uhh, no offence, but... President Kennedy was a white man.
JFK: That's how clever they are. They dyed me this colour, all over. Can you think of a better way to hide the truth than that?

If all this sounds like a crazed collaboration between David Lynch and William Burroughs, that’s pretty much how it plays. It shouldn’t work – but in a strangely satisfying and even touching way, it does.

And it can teach us some valuable lessons about screenwriting.

What's it really about?

Without giving away the story’s ending, the idea of a ‘good death’ – significant, appropriate and just – emerges as its theme. A ‘bad death’ is threatened by the Mummy, which feeds on the souls of the care home’s residents, preventing them from passing on to the next realm.

Rites of Passage

This theme shows that the film is a RITE OF PASSAGE story (in a Horror/Comedy mode).  

Many people think this genre only covers 'coming-of-age' narratives, with adolescents passing into adulthood; but our lives incorporate many transitions, which can inspire stories about:

• The fears of moving on
• The things that may block a transition
• The bad things that happen if someone fails to make a transition

Bubba Ho-Tep is about the last passage we undertake – from old age to death.

Why Elvis and JFK?

Viewed like this, the ‘random’ choice of Elvis and JFK as protagonists makes more sense. Both men were cut down in the prime of life, Elvis in particular having made a swift transition from gilded youth to corpulent late middle-age (and ignominious death) while missing out most of the natural steps along the way.

It may be too much of a stretch to give Elvis a fictional happy life. But if he's granted a meaningful death, perhaps the sour taste of his real passing can be mitigated.

Why does it work?

Bruce Campbell’s pitch-perfect turn as a ruefully self-critical Elvis gives the story real poignancy. Strong design and cinematography conjure up the care home's twilight atmosphere. The Rite of Passage theme brings depth and weight.

But also…

There’s something of a ‘conjuring trick’ aspect to this film. We’ve all heard of Elvis, JFK, and the Mummy – but surely they can't fit into a single story? Our interest is piqued, and we feel an added frisson of enjoyment when it turns out that they can.

Using well-known historical or mythical figures - no matter how outlandishly - is a short-cut to audience recognition (and a useful promotional tool)

…And the Mummy?

The choice of the Mummy as antagonist also makes thematic sense; he’s another person who’s failed to make the final transition, is stuck in a form he should have transcended, and has become evil and monstrous as a result.

Rite of Passage, Genre and Horror

Horror stories can dramatise the Rite of Passage theme in especially powerful terms. For instance:

• ERASERHEAD focuses on the fears of becoming a parent
• CARRIE is about a girl whose mother blocks her transition to adolescence and sexual maturity
• PSYCHO's Norman Bates fails to become an adult and is stuck in a toxic childhood

We’ll look into more deeply Rite of Passage stories, and many other narrative strategies which open up the genre, in our exciting WRITING HORROR NOW workshop on May 20.

Click here to book and find out more – places are limited!

At some level, we want (and maybe need) stories that have the power to frighten us.

Not everyone responds to full-on horror, but thrillers, war films, crime stories, supernatural tales and many other genres include extreme or frightening content. And people are drawn to them.

But why?

If we want to use fear in our narratives in ways that work, we should try to understand why people wish to experience this powerful, but apparently negative, emotion.

So here are some reasons why people might seek out fear in films. It’s a subject which is up for debate, so do feel free to comment on the article. Maybe you can think of other reasons why people are attracted to things which - in theory - should repel them.

And remember, our Creating Fear in Films workshop (Feb 25) will look at these and many other issues in much more detail.

Arousal and excitement

Whatever else it may do, fear gives us a strong sense of being alive and in the moment – a feeling of arousal, with an accompanying surge of adrenaline.

So, terrifying as they may be in real life, frightening things can become exciting and even pleasurable in the context of fiction, where they can’t really harm us. And it’s hard to forget films that achieve this.

Ritual and catharsis – and the communal experience

Perhaps something special happens when we experience fear in a group setting. Going through extreme events certainly draws people together (one reason why horror movies are good for first dates?).

Confronting vividly disturbing fictional events can also have a powerfully cathartic effect. We’ve visited the Dark Place, we’ve made the return journey – and if the experience is shared, we have ready-made witnesses to the fact.

Some writers feel that immersion in certain types of extreme imagery has a strongly ritual element: that it’s a kind of cleansing experience which gives audiences a taste of what others may find in religion.

Magical thinking

When we watch terrible things happening to others, there may be a sense that we’re somehow protecting ourselves against similar things happening to us. "At least I'm facing up to the possibility of evil and monsters," we tell ourselves, "I'm admitting that they're real, rather than repressing them, so maybe they'll notice that and leave me alone."

Adaptive ‘futureproofing’

Or maybe it is an adaptive rehearsal – a preparation for dealing with the possible ‘future shocks’ that life may throw at us. If we rehearse the process of facing unexpected events in fantasy, perhaps we will become more resilient in real life?

Learning about life - and death

It's easy to criticise 'rubberneckers' who are drawn to accidents or other unfortunate events. But are they cold-hearted voyeurs, or are they simply processing the way in which chance or a momentary mistake has the power to radically alter all of our lives?

Perhaps they are trying to comprehend the principles that are at work in human misfortune. And maybe stories can help people learn how to prevent such things in their own lives, or the lives of others.

A holiday from morality

Do we identify with the victims in frightening films – or the perpetrators? Or do we switch backward and forward, depending on the range of feelings we want to explore?

At different times, depending on our mood and circumstances, we may feel like both a victim and a perpetrator. And deep down we may suspect that in the wrong (or right) circumstances we could be capable of doing extreme, criminal and frightening things.

However, modern society - with its tight surveillance, rules of thought and speech and sometimes rigid codes of behaviour - doesn't allow us to indulge these tendencies, or even give voice to them. It is perhaps more constrained than we would like to admit.

Perhaps at some psychological level we need proxies to carry out the unacceptable or antisocial acts that we’d never contemplate – or if we would contemplate, that we’d never allow ourselves to commit.

When these things are enacted in a fantasy setting we can indulge and purge our darker drives without taking on a burden of guilt or shame.

Truth

Quite simply, the world can be a scary place. Being alive is often frightening. If stories didn’t reflect this reality, they would give us an insipid, inaccurate picture of life.

In summary...

Whatever motives audiences may have for wanting to feel fear, we need to know how to use this emotion convincingly in our narratives.

Our workshop will help you understand how to do this with clips, discussions and enjoyable writing exercises.

Click here to find out more, and book.

For today's guest blog we're delighted to invite Phil Gladwin, Writer, Editor, Founder of Screenwriting Goldmine Awards  
In the last few years we've seen screenwriting contests move ever more mainstream.  
There are stacks of them in the USA, and several really notable contests in the UK.  
Many more agents, producers and script editors are open to the idea that getting a 
result in the bigger contests is a legitimate part of getting the kind of momentum new 
writers need.   

Winning a contest is great, but don't get distracted and see it as an end in itself. It's 
really only valuable if it helps towards your real goal - getting hired as a screenwriter. 
What's more, these contests often charge an entry fee - and that can add up.  
So how do you decide how to spend your money? 

[I have a vested interest I must declare - in 2012 I founded the Screenwriting 
Goldmine Awards, so this article is written from that perspective.] 

1. Does the contest have clear industry links? 

Look for evidence of interest and support from the industry you want to join, either 
directly on the judging panel, or in affiliations to agencies, particular production 
companies, or broadcasters.  

At the Goldmine we have a taken an independent stance. We have no specific 
affiliation, but we do have 35 senior figures from across the British TV industry who 
read all the finalist scripts, and who decide the eventual winner. 

2. Try to check the background of the readers in the initial stages 

Skilled people are not cheap, so some contests will use people with little or no real 
professional script-editing experience to do the first pass and read the entries as they 
come in.  

You've taken months, perhaps years to write this script; do you really want it to be 
assessed by someone who started in the industry last week?  

3. How many entries do they get? 

In some of the bigger American contests they get literally thousands of entries, all 
competing for a handful of prizes.  

Given that you need to win outright, or at least be in the very last short lists a couple 
of times, to make an agent or producer pay much attention, you have to do the maths here.  
Are you happy with the odds 

4. Pick a contest that aligns with your aims 

If you really want to write massive crowd-pleasing shows for a mass market, you will 
probably not find a terribly receptive ear at the Channel 4 Screenwriting contest. 
 
Similarly, if you want to write a small domestic sit-com for British viewers, the odds 
are that won't go down TOO well with Francis Ford Coppola's Zoetrope contest.  
And finally one test that you should run on yourself: 

5. Do you LOVE your script? 

If you don't think it's practically perfect, however will the rest of the world fall in love 
with it?  Which translates practically to you not entering a script you see is a good rough 
sketch.  

If you know there are problems, but you expect the judges to see past the bits that 
don't work until they find the good bits, well, you may have a problem. 

The standard is much too high at the top of these competitions. Winning scripts tend 
to be technically polished well as full of brilliant ideas.   

Apply these tests, and you can be just a little more confident that your entry fee is 
being well spent.  

The Screenwriting Goldmine Awards run every year. We are currently accepting 
scripts until 31st January 2017.  
​​
More information at: https://awards.screenwritinggoldmine.com