The Rewrite

If you’re reading this, you’ve completed the first draft of your screenplay. Congratulations!

If you haven’t, read no further in this chapter until you’re done with your draft, and then you can come back to this point. With the first draft behind you, there’s major cause to celebrate. This is also where the real work begins. First, I recommend that you take some time off. Go out to the movies, take the dog for a walk or do whatever it is you most enjoy and find relaxing. You’ve earned it. When you’re fully recuperated, step away from your script. I mean it—back off. No submitting to competitions, no contacting agents and for the time being, no sending it out for a reader’s opinion. If you’re itching to get back to writing, the very best thing you can do right now, especially if you’re a first-time screenwriter, is to write another project. That’s right: Start the process over again. Go back to the first step and get to work. Brainstorm your new story and characters, go through the exercises and construct your beats and outline. When I started writing movies, a wise mentor told me I’d really hit my stride and have a better idea of what I was doing once I was writing my fifth script. He was right. The thing is, you’ve learned so much in the past few weeks and you’ve had the opportunity to test out that learning by writing scenes. Don’t worry about the sophistication of your script for now. You need to step away from the project long enough that you can view what you have written objectively through the distant lens of time, with as little emotional attachment as possible. As you progress in your screenplay skills, you’ll be able to detach more and more quickly, until you’re able to take industry notes and turn around a rewrite in two to four weeks. But for now, it’s about doing the invisible work that will help turn you into a great writer. So let’s say you design a whole new project and complete the draft. What then? Hopefully a couple of months have passed since you set aside your first project. Perhaps, even, in the process of writing your second script, you’ve unearthed another story that’s begging to be told. If that’s the case, go for it. The more time you take away before beginning the first rewrite process, the better. (Of course, you don’t want to wait too long, either.)

Here we are, then, ready to think about the rewrite. The first step is to look at your script as objectively as possible. Personally, without looking at my original outline, I like to take the script I created back down to the step outline phase. Chances are it changed quite a bit while I was writing. Then for each scene, I run through a few questions to troubleshoot.

[See Exercise 39 at the end of this chapter.]

You’ll notice in the exercise above, I asked you to troubleshoot for story holes and coincidences. It’s very common in writing a first draft that a writer might begin a story line and not carry it through to completion. At other times, perhaps something is allowed to happen without any apparent set up. Everything must have a reason. In GLADIATOR, for example, we believe Commodus is capable of fighting Maximus in the arena because we have seen that he is an expert swordsman—near the beginning we see the young Commodus training out in the snow as Maximus walks through the camp. In troubleshooting for the rewrite, it’s very important to make sure that every major development is set up at least once (and twice is even better).

Keeping that in mind, I find it useful to construct a character arc for each of the main characters. I do this by pulling out the scenes that contribute to their development and creating a little summary of their evolution through the movie. If at any time the character evolves without having to struggle their way out of a sticky situation—for example they simply wake up and have changed their mind about an important issue—I’ve identified a moment of jumping conflict that must be remedied. I can flag those kinds of problems and get back to brainstorming how to fix them. Ideally, each step my character takes forward must be hard earned. The character makes choices and takes chances without any guarantee as to outcome.

[See Exercises 40 and 41 at the end of this chapter.]

I also like to revisit the relationship between the protagonist and antagonist. I find it helpful to place them in proximity two times prior to the final face-off in Act Three. This doesn’t mean they have to come face-to-face, although oftentimes they will. Perhaps, instead, the protagonist sees the antagonist from afar, as Luke Skywalker sees Darth Vader before he strikes down his old mentor. Whether or not the story allows for the protagonist and antagonist to actually meet prior to the climax in Act Three, the protagonist and audience must feel the antagonist’s presence in order to set up the ultimate encounter.

[See Exercise 42 at the end of this chapter.]

Finally, a few words about dialogue (a topic to which we will return in more detail in a later volume). For now, focus on economizing dialogue. Cut down adjectives and adverbs. If you listen to yourself speak, you’ll realize that we don’t use these additional “describing words” as much as you might first imagine. If you find your writing is heavy on adverbs, pick a better verb. If it’s heavy on adjectives, pick a better noun—trim, trim and when you’ve trimmed, trim some more. You’ll also want to play around with ways in which to make the true meaning slide into subtext. That’s just a fancy way of saying the character means something other than what he or she says. For example, let’s say a father and son have just reconciled. Perhaps they don’t like to talk about their feelings. The sooner this whole affair can be water under the bridge, the better. In an effort to show his love for his son, rather than speak his emotions out loud, the father has bought a pair of tickets for them to watch his son’s favorite baseball team.

DAD

We don’t have all day. Unless, of course, you want
to miss the first pitch.

SON

I love you too, dad.

The son reads between the lines. By taking him to the game, his father is expressing his love. So, without further ado, he calls him out: “I love you too, dad.”

We have another example of this economy of dialogue (ad-libbed on set by Harrison Ford) in the epic climax of STAR WARS V: THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK. As he’s led to the freezing chamber, Leia calls out to Han: “I love you.” He replies: “I know.” Although urban legend has it that Harrison Ford had to fight Lucas to keep this line in the script, I much prefer it to the alternative—“I love you, too.” The “I know” communicates a depth of feelings between Han and Leia. He doesn’t need her to voice her emotions to him because he has seen it all along. And it gives the audience an even more dramatic payoff when he finally voices his love for her in STAR WARS VI: RETURN OF THE JEDI (1983).

Another nifty trick to good dialogue is allowing the thrust and parry to turn on key phrases. Say we have a character named Martin, who is really frustrated with his fiancée, Sheila. They have just recently moved in together. Meanwhile, Sheila has been spending all her time decorating for their first holiday as a couple—and spending a great deal of Martin’s hard-earned cash. To her, the carefully selected tree skirt is an expression of love. To him, it’s a nightmare devised to ruin his bachelor pad. Sheila can sense something’s wrong and keeps nagging him. Meanwhile Martin is on the verge of losing his mind.

SHEILA

Maybe I should have put the tree over in that corner.
We could move it in the morning.

MARTIN

Enough of the Tree. Look at this place. It’s like the
North Pole in here. I can’t do this.

SHEILA

What is that supposed to mean. Where are you going—

MARTIN

Don’t wait up.

When Sheila mentions moving the “tree,” Martin loses it. He picks up the word and turns it back against her, adding a ubiquitous “I can’t do this anymore.” Sheila responds at first by assuming he means Christmas and the decorations. She attempts to win him over by reminding Martin it’s the “most wonderful time of the year.” Suddenly, it hits her—“what does that mean?” Note how we don’t have to indicate that Martin grabs his jacket or gets off the couch. The actor can tell this from the fact that Sheila asks Martin where he’s going. Instead of answering her question, he tells her not to wait up. Clearly, their relationship is on the rocks. It’s unclear what’s going to happen. Once again, economy of dialogue allows us to create powerful and meaningful subtext. My friend Linda Seger’s Writing Subtext: What Lies Beneath can be a useful resource for flexing this writing muscle.

[See Exercise 43 at the end of this chapter.]

By working beneath the surface to eliminate story holes and strengthen character growth, you’ll be sure to make the most out of your second draft. Then and only then, you might consider submitting your screenplay to a professional reader for feedback or to a competition.

[See Exercise 44 at the end of this chapter.]

Remember, your invisible work will pay off. Success never happens overnight. It’s the result of hard work, sustained over time. And whatever you do, keep on writing!

© SJ Murray, 2018