Please Mind the Gap

You’ve made it this far. Now for the final push.

All that’s left for you to do is to fill in the gaps in your step outline. As you’ve no doubt realized, the hard work you’ve invested over the first fifteen steps to writing an insanely great screenplay is paying off!

Don’t be daunted by the task ahead. Now is the time to settle down and visualize the end of your story design process: a clearly outlined screenplay, from beginning to end. By the time you start writing scenes, you’ll have a bird’s eye view of everything you hope to accomplish. It can be intimidating to think of outlining sixty or so scenes, all in a row. Thankfully, you don’t have to do that. All you have to do is think in terms of your tent-pole moments. By now you’ve settled on an opening image (two to three minutes or pages). You have a clear outline of how the inciting incident will unfold (two to three minutes or pages). To fill out the set-up sequence, you only have to create three or four more scenes (seven to nine minutes or pages) to fill in the gap.

Over that setup sequence, you need to accomplish certain goals. First of all, make sure the protagonist and antagonist get great, personal, unique introductions. Second, communicate the key elements of the protagonist’s world. What does she want? What does she need? How is she blind to that need and how does her blindness affect others without her realizing it? (You can look over your homework from earlier chapters in order to complete this process.) The key is to not settle. Don’t go for the first idea that pops into your head. If you’re writing a romantic comedy, dream up a new and unique setting for the meet-cute. Give us characters that, while familiar, are entirely new to us and quirky. If science fiction is your passion, set up the world and how it is different from ours. And especially, whatever you do, don’t forget that your reader and audience must sense that a storm is brewing. Something is just off-kilter—although the protagonist probably doesn’t know it yet. Keep in mind that you are going to have to make choices. You have a limited number of pages to get all this information across in the most interesting, “show-don’t-tell” fashion possible.

[See Exercise 33 at the end of this chapter.]

Your next goal is to fill in the gap from the inciting incident to the dilemma and right on up to the end of Act One. You’ll probably have just one or two scenes that slide in between the inciting incident and the dilemma (three at most). Then you’ll need around three or four scenes to carry you up to the first act break (i.e., the end of the first act).

[See Exercise 34 at the end of this chapter.]

Great! We’re now in the first half of the second act, in the thick of the adventure sequence (between crossing the threshold and the midpoint), when things will start to turn downhill for the protagonist. It’s time to have some fun. A lot of movies lose momentum in this sequence. The key is to rely on your supporting character to introduce new levels of tension into the narrative. Blake Snyder, in Save The Cat!, calls this section the “fun and games.” That’s because your protagonist will likely experience a series of successes and progress towards their goal. It’s typically a segment of the movie that’s fun and entertaining for the audience. Meeting the supporting character helps to point the protagonist in the right direction. As Blake notes, this is also the point of the story at which “set pieces” were typically introduced into screenplays.

Back in the day, when movies were shot primarily on studio lots and CGI was but the figment of someone’s imagination, movie sets were constructed in the studios. Given the cost of such projects, police stations, restaurants, office space and the like could be recycled. From time to time, though, a scene in a movie was deemed exciting enough to warrant the construction of a set. That scene became known as a “set piece.” We still use the term today—both in theory and in practice. For example, when Brad Bird was filming MISSION IMPOSSIBLE: GHOST PROTOCOL (2011), the Dubai climbing stunt (originally scheduled to be shot using CGI) was deemed so exciting that it merited the cost of being shot on location. That’s a set piece. More and more, we find them in the opening of movies, too, for example the plane attack at the beginning of THE DARK KNIGHT RISES (2012).

Whatever your topic and genre, the first half of Act Two needs to be exciting and keep the audience invested. At the same time, you need to make sure the protagonist is progressing towards her goal. I find it helpful to think of three sequences, or series of scenes, that make up mini-adventures to help get me from the act break to the midpoint. It’s helpful, too, if the mini-adventures build one upon the other in intensity. I also want to make sure that the antagonist is making plans to reverse the protagonist’s successes. As in the beginning of Act One, a storm is brewing—only this time it’s not because of the looming inciting incident. It’s because the protagonist and antagonist are about to collide in such a way that the protagonist—too “green” and young in the story to stand up to the antagonist—will be thrown off course and make a decision that will cost her dearly.

[See Exercise 35 at the end of this chapter.]

For the second half of Act Two, you’re going to need to brainstorm three to four key events that push the protagonist down the hill towards the Brick Wall. As always, pay attention to rising conflict. In other words, you want to escalate the opposition—each episode builds on the next and raises the stakes until jeopardy is so high that the protagonist is tempted to abandon the journey and turn back in defeat. Each episode you construct, fueled by the antagonist, causes the MacGuffin to be in jeopardy. But even more than that, these episodes must jeopardize the growth of the protagonist. Throughout the second half of Act Two, you want to push the protagonist to the point that she realizes—or someone else helps her realize—there’s nothing to go back to. By the time that moment of self-realization occurs, we as the audience understand completely that everything has changed. There’s no turning back. The threshold into Act Three must be crossed, or the story ends. Right here, right now.

[See Exercise 36 at the end of this chapter.]

As soon as the protagonist makes the recommitment to the newly redefined quest, the story will move very quickly. The race is on to the final face-off. From a writing perspective, this translates into the need to be economic with your scenes. You want to pack the biggest punch without getting lost in the mundane. In Act Three, you have nothing to set up. Rather you focus on “paying off” all of the story lines you’ve been working to set up earlier in your script. Actually, this is a good time to read back through your step outline and identify all of the story elements that beg to be completed. Nothing is more dissatisfying to an audience than an intriguing story line that suddenly disappears.

I prefer, as do most writers, a short and snappy third act. This translates to a maximum of twenty-five to twenty-seven pages (ie., the equivalent of twenty-five to twenty-seven minutes). We’re generally looking at ten scenes. Begin with the commitment the protagonist made in order to pull down the brick wall. What plan does that commitment demand? How might it take shape on screen? The antagonist, too, is preparing for the end. Perhaps a shocking reversal is in sight. Whatever the case may be, your protagonist will likely come very close to achieving her goal when she realizes it’s a trap—the antagonist has her cornered. She has to summon up everything she has learned over the course of the journey to “dig deep down,” as Blake Snyder puts it, and confront the antagonist. (In the case of a romantic comedy, this is the love-interest.)

Continue to keep in mind Hal Ackerman’s red-light rule, and look back over the exercises you completed during the first part of this course. It won’t take you much effort to isolate the protagonist and guide her from the break into Act Three to the final face-off. When that scene is complete and the stakes of the entire story are finally resolved, all that’s left is to drop into the resolution and “fade out.” That said, don’t drag it out. In crossing over to Act Three, the protagonist made a commitment. Perhaps she had a plan. That plan can be articulated now. And she should make good progress on it until she comes up against a significant push-back from the antagonist. Maybe she realizes it’s a trap. Isolated and alone, the protagonist must face off against the antagonist. And, based on the outcome of that face-off, we have the resolution.

[See Exercise 37 at the end of this chapter.]

Congratulations! Not only have you completed your first draft of the step outline, you also possess the necessary skills to troubleshoot and revise it until you’re ready to write scenes.

© SJ Murray, 2018