HOW DO YOU KNOW WHEN TO PULL THE PLUGComplications Ensue
Complications Ensue:
The Crafty Screenwriting, TV and Game Writing Blog




Archives

April 2004

May 2004

June 2004

July 2004

August 2004

September 2004

October 2004

November 2004

December 2004

January 2005

February 2005

March 2005

April 2005

May 2005

June 2005

July 2005

August 2005

September 2005

October 2005

November 2005

December 2005

January 2006

February 2006

March 2006

April 2006

May 2006

June 2006

July 2006

August 2006

September 2006

October 2006

November 2006

December 2006

January 2007

February 2007

March 2007

April 2007

May 2007

June 2007

July 2007

August 2007

September 2007

October 2007

November 2007

December 2007

January 2008

February 2008

March 2008

April 2008

May 2008

June 2008

July 2008

August 2008

September 2008

October 2008

November 2008

December 2008

January 2009

February 2009

March 2009

April 2009

May 2009

June 2009

July 2009

August 2009

September 2009

October 2009

November 2009

December 2009

January 2010

February 2010

March 2010

April 2010

May 2010

June 2010

July 2010

August 2010

September 2010

October 2010

November 2010

December 2010

January 2011

February 2011

March 2011

April 2011

May 2011

June 2011

July 2011

August 2011

September 2011

October 2011

November 2011

December 2011

January 2012

February 2012

March 2012

April 2012

May 2012

June 2012

July 2012

August 2012

September 2012

October 2012

November 2012

December 2012

January 2013

February 2013

March 2013

April 2013

May 2013

June 2013

July 2013

August 2013

September 2013

October 2013

November 2013

December 2013

January 2014

February 2014

March 2014

April 2014

May 2014

June 2014

July 2014

August 2014

September 2014

October 2014

November 2014

December 2014

January 2015

February 2015

March 2015

April 2015

May 2015

June 2015

August 2015

September 2015

October 2015

November 2015

December 2015

January 2016

February 2016

March 2016

April 2016

May 2016

June 2016

July 2016

August 2016

September 2016

October 2016

November 2016

December 2016

January 2017

February 2017

March 2017

May 2017

June 2017

July 2017

August 2017

September 2017

October 2017

November 2017

December 2017

January 2018

March 2018

April 2018

June 2018

July 2018

October 2018

November 2018

December 2018

January 2019

February 2019

November 2019

February 2020

March 2020

April 2020

May 2020

August 2020

September 2020

October 2020

December 2020

January 2021

February 2021

March 2021

May 2021

June 2021

November 2021

December 2021

January 2022

February 2022

August 2022

September 2022

November 2022

February 2023

March 2023

April 2023

May 2023

July 2023

September 2023

November 2023

January 2024

February 2024

 

Monday, May 02, 2005

Got an email from a guy whose script I critiqued a few years back. He's thinking about reworking the script again. And that got me thinking on the question: when do you declare a script done? When is it worth rewriting? When do you decide it's in a permanent vegetative state and you can't resuscitate it?

The question's always out there once you have scripts on your shelf. How long do you continue rewriting them? Should you come back to old scripts?

Generally I don't like to come back to old scripts. Most of my old scripts have bad hooks or the stories are seriously flawed. If the hook's no good there's nothing to do -- the script may suggest a better hook, but then you're writing an entire new script anyway. If the hook is good but the story is flawed, then you're doing a page one rewrite, probably, and again, it's a whole new script. In that case you're probably better off leaving the script on the shelf.

Personally I hate rewriting scripts I wrote more than a few years ago, because I'm a better writer now than I was then. My characters then were a little functional, and my stories were too predictable. I wrote them too fast. So they have all sorts of problems that don't feel like they're worth fixing.

But then occasionally the flaws are fixable. I just wrote up a new treatment for an old script of mine. The hook was good, but the characters were a little thin and on the nose, and the fireworks at the end made it more expensive than it needed to be. Up till recently I really hadn't done anything with the script since my then agent first sent it out to development people and it got a big fat nothing of a reaction. The treatment reworks the characters and reduces the fireworks, and also moves the action from New York to Montreal, so I can get it set up here. Now I've got a director friend interested. Hopefully we can find someone who wants to pay me to do the rewrite off the treatment.

I guess the answer is: if you still love the hook and the flaws are at a rewrite level, rewrite it. It's equally a mistake to leave something on the shelf that's one or two rewrites away from something you can sell. If it's on the shelf, your efforts count for nothing. Almost all writers need many drafts to get the script to where it needs to be. M. Night Shyamalan wrote somewhere that it took him five drafts to think of the twist in The Sixth Sense and another five drafts to perfect it. I have no idea what a draft is to M. Night, but you get the idea.

If you're looking at a page one rewrite, then it's stickier. When you rewrite an old script you're building on something that's already there. That can give you a firmer foundation. What worked then still works, and you can fix what doesn't work. You'll get a second draft out of it, instead of a first draft. And if the foundation is garbage, it's easy to chuck out.

The problem is when the foundation is just a little bit off. Then if you're human, like me, you're probably going to leave it that way. Then you're building on a weak foundation. That's the problem with reworking something old: you're probably a better writer now. In that case you better be willing to really go to town on the script and rethink it from the ground up. The beauty of being a writer is you can always replace what's there for the price of your time and a few ink cartridges. The challenge of being a writer is being willing to toss out a little bit more than you think you need to toss out and rethink everything. If you just graft new ideas onto an old body, you get Frankenstein.

2 Comments:

I stopped writing script #1 after I decided it was done. Which was 4.5 drafts. There is not much more I could add to it at that point. For the most part, it is what I wanted it to be. If it ever gets picked up, I'd be happy to rework it as required--until that happens I've got too many other ideas to write, and too little time in which to write them, to spend too much time on any particular one.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 7:19 PM  

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 5:32 AM  

Post a Comment

Back to Complications Ensue main blog page.



This page is powered by Blogger.