Screenwriters should learn from Shakespeare: Language governs the action

There is no doubt that William Shakespeare’s Hamlet continues to be one of the most intriguing and highly analyzed plays ever written, and the protagonist Hamlet is arguably one of the greatest dramatic characters ever created. From the moment this disconsolate prince enters the scene the audience/reader is made acutely aware of his conflicted soul. This tragic hero is a walking dichotomy that provokes every sort of human emotion, and th-2

sets the stage for the revengeful plot to be carried out. Shakespeare uses the power of language to not only control the plot, but also to establish the storyline, reveal Hamlet’s varied complex character flaws, control fate, establish irony, and to govern the action of the play. Shakespeare brilliantly uses this character to hold the weight of the play with his dialogue, and reveal a vivid display of universal conflict within humanity.

Hamlet’s distress over his fathers death, his mother’s new-found marriage, and obvious distrust of the King are revealed with his entrance in Act 1, Scene 2 as he discourses with the Queen, his mother. However, his comment to the King is most insightful, when he reveals his suspicion and distrust. This comment reveals a lot, because Hamlet is not only displeased with his mother’s choice to marry so quickly after his father’s death, but it discloses Hamlet’s fermenting resentment.

King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,

And thy best graces spend it at thy will!

Hamlet. [Aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind. (1.1.62-65)

Perhaps one of the most dramatically revealing moments in Hamlet is with Hamlet’s famous soliloquy, “To be, or not to be.” Shakespeare introduces this during the middle of the play in Act 111, Scene 1. This moving and powerful monologue alerts the audience/reader that something grim is about to happen, as Hamlet uncovers his “sea of troubles.”

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Hamlet. To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?—To die,—to sleep,—
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,—’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die,—to sleep;—
To sleep: perchance to dream:—ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despis’d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,—
The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns,—puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. (111.1.56-88)

Hamlet moves into a very dark, contemplative state, and exposes the flaws in his thinking, his conflicting views on death and nobility, his possible fate, and the recognition that he will have to do something about his own personal conflicts and the plague that looms over Denmark. This is a perfect example of Shakespeare’s use of language to drive the plot forward, establish conflict, reveal Hamlet’s disposition, and set the tone for the remainder of the play.

The Ghost is also an interesting character whose dialogue has a pivotal affect on Hamlet’s mental and emotional state and the fate of the play. By the Ghost revealing the truth about the circumstances surrounding Hamlet’s father’s death, he motivates Hamlet to commit murder, the ultimate revenge, and lose his soul!

Ghost. My hour is almost come,

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames

Must render up myself.

Hamlet.   Alas, poor ghost!

          Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing

To what I shall unfold.

Hamlet. Speak; I am bound to hear.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt

hear.

Hamlet. What?

Ghost. I am thy father’s spirit;

Doom’d for a certain term to walk the night,

And for the day confined to fast in fires,

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature

Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid

To tell the secrets of my prison-house,

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word

Would harrow up they soul, freeze thy young blood,

Make thy two eyes like stars, start from their spheres,

Thy knotted and combined locks to part

And each particular hair to stand an end,

Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:

But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and blood. List, list O, list!

If thou didst every thy dear father love—

Hamlet. O God!

     Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

     Hamlet. Murder! (1.5.7-26)

Not only does this speech reveal background, and feed Hamlet’s rage, it unlocks a thick unsettling within the plot of this play. Is the Ghost used by Shakespeare to create a diabolical manifestation that lures Hamlet into a fated doom? The dialogue certainly plays an intricate part in plot development and discloses the power of choice existent in every man. Is Hamlet’s madness self-induced? The language in this play is a powerful tool that helps impart Shakespeare’s theme within the play.

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This blog and the “screenwriting” process

One of the earmarks of being a screenwriter is that most of us are unabashedly eager to talk about the process of screenwriting. Bottom line…it’s in our blood.  However, that process is not something that begins with the letter “A” and ends when the outline is over. It encompasses every facet of the development from conception, to production. It includes being open-minded, dedicated and ridiculously tenacious. It involves being able to take rejection and criticism while maintaining your self-esteem.

A good screenwriter should not just be able to knockout a well-crafted script; you should also be able to critically analyze other screenplays and films. I have always maintained that part of the steps of understanding the way story must function in film is to be able to review a film from a writer’s perspective.

Screenwriter on Location is a blog that encompasses “the process.” Whether blogging about the elements of craft, or discussing the latest box office hit, this blog tells “all” without hesitation.

One Conflict: One Story

Every screenplay must have one inciting incident—the initial conflict that happens that sends the protagonist on his or her journey to transformation. In other words, the protagonist is thrown from his or her normal every day world into a challenge or obstacle. This conflict is what shifts them into a new world, so that his or her old world is no longer the same. This conflict is what begins the story and causes the protagonist to act. You also want to remember that conflict is essential, but all conflict must be connected to the initial conflict for the story to work.

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Weak and/or unfocused conflict is problematic. If your story does not have a strong external conflict (the obstacle that comes between the protagonist and their goal), the script will not move forward, and then you will struggle to keep things exciting. Your story begins with the inciting incident, and if this is not clearly defined, you don’t have a story (ouch).

Here is a good checklist to follow:

  1. What’s your story’s external (plot) conflict?
  2. What is your protagonist’s emotional conflict?
  3. How do we see your hero battle the external conflict?
  4. Are the external conflict and the emotional conflict connected? How so?
  5. How do you dramatize the protagonist’s struggle with his or her emotional conflict?

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“The Inciting Incident always leads us to the Key Incident, which is the hub of the story line, the engine that powers the story forward. The Key Incident reveals to us what the story is about. All films can break down as such. The Key Incident will generally be the plot point at the end of Act One, but not always. One such example is Ordinary People. The entire screenplay revolves around the key incident of the drowning, which occurs before the story begins but is pieced together and finally seen in its totality at Plot Point II.” – Syd Field

The inciting incident is the beginning of your story. If you don’t have a clearly defined inciting incident, you don’t have a story. The inciting incident throws the protagonist from “the normal everyday world” into a challenge, an obstacle. Something shifts in his world so that his world is no longer the same. If you don’t flag a major shift (with huge dramatic stakes and passion), then you likely don’t have a story.

The inciting incident cues the audience/reader about what type of journey we’ll be going on. But, the journey is pointless if you don’t get your hero over the finish line…he or she must complete his or her goal. Generally, this happens somewhere between page 5 and 7. If by page 5, the theme is not stated CLEARLY, who your protagonist is, and what is his or her need (issue), with a goal in site, you’re going to have an issue with arching the story, the character and the resolution. In short—that will pose a MAJOR problem.

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I am available for online, one-on-one, script coaching.   Click here: Script coaching online

What about subplots?

Creating a good plot is essential to screenplay writing, or any other type of fiction.  The plot is what drives the story forward. While subplots are a common element used in screenwriting, they can be risky if they are not used properly.  Aristotle maintained that a perfect plot has a single issue, and that subplots are the sign of bad writing technique (Tierno).  So, if this is true then how have subplots become so predominant in screenwriting today?  It is imperative that a writer choose one external conflict and a subplot must be a part of that conflict.  For a subplot to work, it must carry the theme of the main action.

In order to establish whether a subplot will work or not, the writer needs to have an understanding of what a subplot really is.  Some writers actually call subplots the “A” and “B” story, but either way; a subplot is an extension of the main theme.  In other words—subplots are always somehow connected to the main plot.  These secondary storylines must enrich, or bring life to the main plot, and they will always help the protagonist in his or her journey toward resolve.  For example, in William Shakespeare’s Hamlet, the central theme is developed around Hamlet’s crazed revenge of his father’s death, and his actions are a result of his need for revenge.  There are two subplots in Hamlet: The war with Norway and Ophelia’s relationship to Hamlet.  Shakespeare reveals Hamlet’s want in the first act, but complications occur in act two when Hamlet shows up in Ophelia’s chamber in complete disarray after Ophelia has just learned that he is loosing his love interest in her.  Ophelia is not overly surprised, because she is aware of his confused mental state.  The plot thickens when Ophelia shares about Hamlet’s sudden visit with Polonius:

OPHELIA

O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!

LORD POLONIUS

With what, in the name of God?

OPHELIA

My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,

Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced;

Ungarter’d, and down-gyved to his ancle;

Pale in his shirt; his knees knocking each other;

And with a look so piteous in purport

As if he had been loosed out of hell

To speak of horrors, — he comes before me.

LORD POLONIUS

Mad for thy love?

OPHELIA

My lord, I do not know;

But truly, I do fear it.

(Shakespeare, 2:1)

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In the above scene, Shakespeare uses Ophelia’s character to create conflict and further establish the question of Hamlet’s sanity.  It is important to note the Ophelia and Hamlet have been life-long friends, so for her to “fear” his love, and have this kind of intense concern, it is somewhat disquieting.

In an article written by Amanda Mabillard, which is posted on Shakespeare Online, she says, “There are three plots in Shakespeare’s Hamlet: the main revenge plot and two subplots involving the romance between Hamlet and Ophelia, and the looming war with Norway.”  Shakespeare uses the relationship between Hamlet and Ophelia to highlight a different aspect of the one external conflict—Hamlet’s settling of scores.

Everyone loves a good romance story, but the supposed romance between Hamlet and Ophelia turns sour.  By the third Act, Hamlet verbally assaults her, wounding the poor young maiden’s heart and rendering her hopelessly insane; she drowns in Act four. Laetres blames Hamlet and vows revenge.  Shakespeare uses the actions of these characters to continue create tension in the story and to enhance Hamlet’s disposition and emphasize his off-kilter state-of-mind.

For a subplot to work effectively, additional characters must remain central to the primary plot. In Sylvester Stallone’s famous screenplay Rocky, the main plot is the fight.  Where Hamlet’s motive for action was the revenge of his father’s death, Rocky Balboa’s motive for action is the big fight.  Rocky’s relationship with his manager and his wife are a way for the author to introduce different points of view, while supporting the plot and driving it forward.  The relationships that Rocky has with these two characters help to create secondary plots.  They do not take away from Rocky and his goal, but add a sense of depth to his character and bring humanness to Rocky.  For example, Rocky’s trainer Mickey sees potential in the young 25-year-old fighter, but throughout most of the screenplay, there is a lot of friction between Rocky and Mickey. Stallone wittingly uses this resistance between the two characters to produce the wanted results in the end…Rocky will fight.  Note the following excerpt from a scene between Rocky and Mickey:

MICKEY

Ya want the truth – Ya got heart, but ya fight like an ape –

The only thing special about you is ya never got ya

nose broke – – keep ya nose pretty – -what’s left of ya

brain an’ retire.

ROCKY [ignoring his comment]

Listen, I’m gonna take a steam – –

Did good last night – – Shoulda seen it.

MICKEY [ignoring Rocky’s comment]

Hey, ever think about retirin’

ROCK

…No.

MICKEY

…Think about it.

Mickey

The above scene is good psychology.  Mickey knows that if he can get Rocky mad enough he will step up to the plate and give his all, and then he will have a good chance fighting in the fight that will land him the title.  Stallone uses Mickey like the sound of a nail against a chalkboard.  This trainer wants to get under Rocky’s skin and push him on the journey toward his goal—the fight.  In the final scene, Rocky makes it to the fight, and Stallone pulls the stops out as he keeps the audience/reader suspended in thin air and he is going for the heavyweight title against the undefeated Apollo Creed.  When everyone expects Rocky to ultimately win, Stallone pulls a fast one –it’s a “split decision!”

ANNOUNCER

Ladies and gentlemen – We have a split decision!

ANOTHER ANGLE Apollo did not expect this and tenses.  His corner nervously tries to reassure him.  It does no good.  ANOTHER ANGLE Rocky did not expect this either and looks in confusion at Mickey, but Mickey is frozen with anticipation.

ANNOUNCER

Judge Walker scores it eight- seven Creed…

Judge Roseman scores it eight-seven Balboa(…)

winner and still Heavyweight Champion of the

world, Apollo Creed!

Keep in mind that the goal is the fight, and even though Rocky technically loses, his loss

makes the audience/reader love him all the more.  Mickey’s response to Rocky after the

winner is announced is not only touching, it also adds a sense of humanness to their

relationship.  In almost father-like fashion Mickey affirms to Rocky his admiration as he

says, “I don’t care what they say, you’re a winner.”

Remember…
Subplots are not additional obstacles randomly thrown into a screenplay;

they reflect the central conflict of the main plot.

For screenplay coaching and/or editing:  carlaiacovetti.com

Other references: WriterDuet.com – Screenwriting online…it’s easy, SSL secure and free!

 

 

Reeling your audience in with good characters

There is always controversy when it comes to plot-driven plots, or character-driven plots. When a story is character-driven, the protagonist will drive the movie’s progress, and the audience will focus more on what’s happening with the character than the storyline. The protagonist’s true self will shine with each obstacle (whether internal or external), and the audience will watch conflict managed through his or her actions.

In Kenneth Lonnergan and Peter Tolan’s situation comedy, Analyze This (1999), the audience is reeled into the plot as the credits roll and made aware that something “big” is about to happen.  With the understanding the plot and character are tied together, Lonnergan and Tolan use the emotional and external need of the flawed protagonist, PAUL VITTI to push the plot forward—this is a character-driven screenplay.

Vitti has a problem (here comes conflict).  The once “feared” mobster has seemingly gone soft, and not just in his ability to function as a mob leader in New York, but in his love life too (when it rains, it pours).  For the first eleven minutes in the script, Lonnergan and Tolan take us back in time and reveal the followings:

  1. Dominic Manetta [who is dead] narrates as a montage of news photos flash over the screen.
  2. A big meeting is about to happen between all of the wise guys [Carlo Gambino, included].
  3. Manetta’s voice over continues [who is he talking to?]. “Your father and me, we were goin’ up with Tommy D., Fat Tommy.”
  4. The F.B.I. closes in and gangsters are running for their lives.

The big meeting never happened.  Time spans forward, and Manetta [now in his 70’s] Manetta tells Vitti that times are changing and that he would make a great leader.  The two men are in a restaurant having a meal together. Vitti sarcastically says, “What are we gonna get, a fuckin’ web site?”  However, it is not just about the changes ahead, Manetta made a promise to Vitti’s father before he died—to watch over Vitti.  The mob is going to have another meeting, and Vitti does not want to be a part of it. History repeats itself, because just as he and Manetta start to leave the restaurant, Vitti goes back inside to get a toothpick.  The minute he does, a round of gunfire hits Manetta and his bodyguard, and once again, the meeting never happens.

Twelve minutes into the script and the audience/reader is set up for the introduction of BEN SOBOL, the Jewish psychiatrist that gets pulled into Vitti’s journey of self-discovery.  Sobol’s character brings more conflict into the plot by boldly confronting Vitti while at the same time bringing understanding to the emotional side of his character.  The flawed Vitti does not really get what he wants, he gets what he needs, and this is paramount for his transformation.  For example:  When Vitti cannot perform sexually for his young mistress, he begins to panic (imagine his frustration).  In fact, he ends up at the emergency room, fully convinced that he is having a heart attack, when in fact the doctor assures him that his heart is fine.  He is having a panic attack.  At the same time this episode is going on, Sobol is on his way to a birthday party with his 14-year-old son, Michael.  Sobol is not paying attention and he rams into the back of the mobsters limo, being driven by two henchmen, JELLY and JIMMY.  What Sobol does not realize, is that they have a guy tied up in the trunk.  Naturally, they are not concerned about a fender-bender, especially when Sobol suggests that they call the police!  Obviously, that is not going to happen, but Sobol, who accepts full responsibility for the accident hands Jelly his business card.  This scene sets up Vitti’s need for a therapist, since he is dealing with anxiety.

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Every scene in this screenplay is a comedic situation that continues to move the plot forward.  Vitti is not the only one with problems in Analyze This.  Sobol is a therapist that does not get a long with his parents, he hates his ex-wife, and his son Michael is an eves-dropper, as he continually listens to his father’s sessions with patients through the air-conditioning vent.  The tension only heightens when Jelly shows up unannounced during a session with his patient, CARL ANDERSON.  Suddenly the door opens, and Jelly enters:

JELLY

Dr. Sobol?

BEN

Excuse me!  I’m in a session here.

JELLY

Yeah, I know, I’m sorry.

BEN

You’re … You’re one of the guys

I rear-ended the other night.

JELLY

Bingo.

(to Carl)

Get outta here.

Jelly takes Carl by the elbow and lifts him off the couch.

JELLY

Upsa-daisy. You got a coat, nutbar?

It is an amazing boldness that comes on Ben, as he tells Carl not to leave.  However, the old saying, “Money talks” holds true as Jelly pays him off.  Once Carl leaves Vitti shows up, and this character [though he does not realize it yet] is on a comedic journey to redemption.

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TOL (thinking out loud)

What about the story?

While I have always loved movies, my fixation with writing had more to do with the manipulation of words, and the development of a story than anything else.  Of course, for a story to arc, there are a number of things that need to take place.

For starters…

You need to ask yourself a very important question:  “What is my story about?”  That question will open up Pandora’s box, for everything that can be explored will be explored; everything that can be revealed will be revealed.  It is not just about a “story” per say.  This is where the combination of creative energy and critical thinking merge.  You can’t just focus on a story idea without critically examining every possible scenario.  I’ve quoted Michael Tierno, author of Aristotle’s Poetics for Screenwriters time and time again.  He says, “Good writers serve their stories; bad writers serve their own agenda.”

We need to approach our story with a commitment to stay true to the story.  What do I mean by that?  I mean that storytelling (no matter what genre) requires us to lay aside preconceived ideas.  It involves always thinking outside of the box, and being open to new ideas.  It also involves having an understanding of the human condition, which is what will ultimately give it depth and universal appeal.  For a story to move to catharsis (a purification or purgation of the emotions like pity and fear released primarily through art or the purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension), this display of human circumstance must be present. Catharsis is a type of communication that builds upon pieces of our life.  When this happens in a story, the reader or audience finds relationship with the situation, and experiences an emotional release.  This generally happens in the 3rd act, and it should cause the greatest emotional response to the situation the hero finds him or herself in.  It’s that suddenly moment in a romantic comedy where the two leading characters “realize” they’re in love! As the story unfolds, our emotions rise and when we experience that emotional release, resolution and harmony comes.  Suddenly, we feel good. In fact, most of us develop an attachment to a film based on our emotional response to the film.  Screenwriters, please, please, please do not write unresolved endings (cliffhangers) that are only going to leave an audience frustrated or mad!  Author Andrew Roberts says, “It’s sheer directorial moral cowardice to cut the screen to black and deny the audience the catharsis they’ve paid their $13 to experience.”  While I do agree, it may not just be a directorial issue; it might simply be the way the writer wrote it.

Here’s another tidbit: The story cannot arc properly if the protagonist doesn’t arc.  You really cannot separate one from the other, because a good story reveals a main character that is on the journey of a lifetime.  A journey must confront his or her personality quirks, human flaws, moral choices, and personal life struggles.

Remember the movie Sideways (2004)?  From the get go, we (the audience) is made aware that the protagonist Miles has hit rock bottom.  Miles is an English teacher, and failed novelist who cannot get his book published.  He longs for his ex-wife, who has clearly moved on (she’s remarried).  Miles is a real piece of work. He has no problem stealing money from his own mother! He has enough quirks and fetishes to fill a book, or at lease a wine bottle. He epitomizes being stuck in a rut.  However, for Miles to successfully arc, he’s going to have to become unstuck.  Just like the wine that he so loves, Miles is going to have to ripen and mature.  The wine trip is a journey that confronts many of Miles’ personality quirks, flaws and personal life struggles.

scene-from-Sideways

The journey then becomes a vehicle for conflict, opposing forces, surprises and various twists and turns in the storyline that appear to impede the hero from successfully completing his or her journey.

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Good writers are the ultimate eavesdroppers

In his book, The Hero With A Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell says, “Modern literature is devoted, in great measure, to a courageous, open-eyed observation of the sickeningly broken figuration’s that abound before us, around us, and within.”  In other words, story telling is really about observing humanity.

Let me be perfectly candid: Screenwriters are not exempt from these important observations.

I truly believe that the best writers are not afraid to ask questions.  Maybe my work as a journalist is seeping through, but in order for us to create convincing characters, we need to have a real grasp on psychology.  We should be open-minded, and never write with an agenda, but write as an expression of what is within and about what is external.

I have never understood the writer who hides away from humanity.  Naturally, writing is solitary by nature, but when I am not writing, I am out and about—watching and listening to people.  Perhaps good writers are the ultimate eavesdroppers.

If you’ve never seen Norah Baumbach’s film, The Squid and the Whale, I’d like to recommend it. The story is about a family in crisis, and Baumbach successfully utilizes the themes of divorce, infidelity and relational dysfunction (sounds like Psychology 101), and we are drawn into the drama of a family as they all try to make sense of life.  You know, something that happens around us everyday.

Baumbach hits the audience with a scene-by-scene depiction of a family that is jaded by denial.  One of the greatest universal appeals in this screenplay is the author’s ability to write a brutally honest story about a family being forced to change in the midst of serious crisis.

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Whether the story is dramatic or comedic is not even the issue, because, according to Joseph Campbell, comedy and tragedy work parallel.  He says, “The happy ending of the fairy tale, the myth, and the divine comedy of the soul, is to be read, not as a contradiction, but as a transcendence of the universal tragedy of man.” Regardless of our station in life, we are all evolving.  Campbell’s hero never sits idle, but moves through time and space—changing from the inside out.  This is a reflection of life. Life, as we know it—a “call to adventure,” as Campbell puts it.

Good stories and well-drawn characters remind us of life.  In them we see reflections of history and unforgettable moments.  Moments comprised of birth and death, heartache and rapture, conflict in relationships, pain and suffering, love and war, happiness and sorrow, and justice and injustice.

Fellow writers…good writing is not something that just happens.  It’s not like picking up a journal, writing your thoughts down with utter abandonment while sipping a latte, and then suddenly getting published or produced.  There’s no magical formula, and no genie to wiggle her nose with the promise of a next best seller.  Like anything in life, if a writer wants to excel, he or she must surrender to the process, and it’s rigorous.  It means letting preconceived ideas go, and not holding onto writing that’s redundant just because you like a scene or a character.  It means to scrutinize your work and hold it against other works that have stood the test of time.  It means to be thoroughly honest while being captivatingly creative and transcendent.  “Story is about eternal, universal forms, not formulas…story is about mastering the art, not second-guessing the marketplace,” says Robert McKee.  The truth is…there are no shortcuts.

Having an open mind means to step outside of the box.  Writing is a journey that all of us creative minds must embrace, and like the characters we create, there is a moment in time where we “must” choose to drop all predetermined plans and welcome with open arms the challenge set before us.

Writing is a sacred place of both discovery and methodology.  It’s an amalgam of both worlds, and that process for me has been to find a balance between creative artistry and theory.  Part of that discovery is observing the way we humans respond to life. To not be afraid to let go of writing that doesn’t work (a couple of screenplays ago, I deleted 30 pages of script and laughed hysterically).  Letting go is a part of embracing the art of storytelling.  It’s not just about myth.  It’s about life.

So, are you (as a writer) ready to embrace the journey of storytelling?  Are you ready to be honest and transcendent?  Are you willing to learn what “really” makes a character tick?

“The big question is whether you are going to be able to say a hearty yes to your adventure.” – Joseph Campbell

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