This summer the screenwriter and author Matthew Specktor will teach The Art of Screenwriting: An Introduction as part of the Split Rock Arts Program. The program, structured as a retreat at the Cloquet Forestry Center, will take place from June 27th through July 2nd.

I spoke to Specktor about the class, his views on what is happening in the indie film world today and what he’s been up to lately.

Q: So what is the class going to be about this year?
Specktor: The class will cover the fundamentals of screenwriting but will allow each student to use their own ideas for plot, character, etc. And then we’ll read three screenplays, two of which are very “classic” in structure – The Sting and Michael Clayton. But then I thought it would be a good thing to also through in there a script that doesn’t work according to the “screenwriting rules” but nevertheless succeeded as a film, so I chose Adaptation.

Q: What have you been doing in terms of writing? Last year when we spoke you were about to publish a novel and hoping that your script [an adaptation of Shirley Hazzard’s novel Transit of Venus would be going into production.
S: I published a novel last year called That Summertime Sound. Some people really liked it; it didn’t make me famous. I’m also working on a nonfiction book about The Sting, which will be out in early 2011 as part of a series of books by writers on their favorite films. Jonathan Lethem is writing about Jonathan Carpenter’s They Live.

Q: What do you think about all the changes we’re seeing in the indie industry right now, in terms of what’s being written, sold, distribution and all of that?
S: In terms of screenplays, whether or not someone writes a script that adheres to all the rules or goes off to create something that defies them, what matters most is to keep dramatic tension going throughout the story. If you make a dramatic promise, you have to keep it. There is nothing more deadly than formula in a script. If you are a screenwriter with a 118 page cadaver of a script, you probably aren’t going to be able to animate it no matter what tricks you try.

I enjoy scripts that allow for ambiguity but after the 1990s, produced scripts of all kinds (Hollywood and indie) really moved away from ambiguity. Maybe the intersection between the shifting economic model and the shifting narrative model will allow for this again. I mean, Hollywood doesn’t believe in it. Iron Man 2 exists only to set the audience up for Iron Man 3.

Everyone who writes or makes films – and other artists as well – are asking themselves what to do now that they don’t need the corporate parent.

Q: In light of all the changes going on in the industry right now, why do you think people still feel compelled to write and make indie films?
S: Well, if someone has vision, if they feel compelled by their own ability to do this, it’s really more necessary than ever. Movies are probably more culturally ascendant than novels and literature right now and there is a small portion of the populace interested in art vs. entertainment. But this small portion is important. Aesthetic success in terms of a film should be a goal. Excellent narrative should be a goal. We’re never going to run out of our need for narrative.

We’re all suffering from terminal distraction. I’m grateful for films and books that completely engage me. I like immersion over ten things happening at once. I like spending time offline and the pleasure of not understanding something so that I have to figure it out.

Q: What about your own script? What’s happening with it?
S: Transit has been delayed because of financing, which is the story for so many films, of course. It’s a film that really needs to be made independently because of its complicated and unexpected ending that would never fly with a studio. Studios don’t want to finance stories like this. But the average time to get a movie made is seven years, so I’m not necessarily worried. Soon I’ll go back to working on writing new scripts.

Q: What’s your goal for your class this year?
S: My aim is to teach skills that serve in the long haul. My real hope is to lead students towards not necessarily writing the next Hollywood blockbuster but towards the pleasure of writing a good scene. Yes, we’ll be learning all the fundamentals but there are then many ways to depart from that.

Visit the That Summertime Sound site to hear sections from Specktor’s novel read by the likes of James Franco, Gwyneth Paltrow, Morgan Freeman and Jeremy Irons.

A recap of the 2009 Screenwriting Expo, contributed by Minnesota screenwriter Justen Overlander.

Literary agent Victoria Wisdom asked a roomful of aspiring screenwriters how many were based in the Los Angeles area.  Surprisingly, not even half the room raised their hands.  Of the numerous keyboard tappers I met at the 2009 Screenwriting Expo, only a handful called La La Land home.

At least three of us were escaping an unseasonably cool Gopher State October.  Scott LaFortune and Marcy Grams were visiting the Screenwriting Expo for the second time while the 2009 event was my first foray into the premiere gathering for screenwriters from across the globe.

I went primarily to network and, generally speaking, I think I succeeded.  While I didn’t come away with a development deal or an imminent production lead, I met many passionate screenwriters, actors, directors, producers, and teachers, all with the same goal – to make movies.  Time will tell if these new connections will grow into friendships or business pairings, but for one long weekend I was surrounded by hundreds of like-minded individuals, each with sympathetic ears and analogous battle stories of their own.

Classes and panel discussion offerings were varied in content.  From craft to business to breaking in, all aspects of screenwriting were covered.  I chose a track of business classes hoping to better equip myself for scaling the wall built to keep neophytes out of the Hollywood dominion.  Several instructors had authored books I’ve read and another hosts the best screenwriting podcast out there – On the Page with Pilar Alessandra.

Justen Overlander with “On the Page” podcast host, Pilar Alessandra

Screenwriting godfather, William Goldman (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Princess Bride), headlined a weekend that included discussions with Monty Python co-founder John Cleese, Transformers screenwriters Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci, CSI creator Anthony Zuiker, and Shane Black, who, at age 23, sold his first screenplay, Lethal Weapon, for $250,000.  While it’s easy to be star-struck by people who have told Paul Newman, Robert Redford, and Mel Gibson what to say and do, the admiration I have for these surprisingly humble, generous individuals is for their accomplishments in a field in which I hope to emulate their success.

One popular draw of the Screenwriting Expo is the Golden Pitch Event in which a writer is sold five minutes to wow a representative from Hollywood agencies and production companies including Creative Artists Agency, Nickelodeon, and Warner Bros among others.  I offered four pitches and received positive feedback from each representative to whom I pitched, though none requested any material beyond contact information on the spot.  According to instructor Michael Hauge, whose pitch class I took before pitching, nobody sells a screenplay at a pitch-fest.  Still, the chance to speak face to face instead of through a query letter is worth the price in my opinion.

Scott LaFortune had this to say about the Golden Pitch Event: “2008 was all about selling, and I failed miserably – 51 pitches in two days; nothing but blank stares in return.  This year, I didn’t pitch once.”  Scott instead focused on classes and soaking up the atmosphere and now feels better prepared to handle the tumultuous business side of screenwriting.

While Marcy Grams did not bring a project of her own to pitch, she was more than satisfied with the classes she took on the craft of screenwriting and especially directing.  She was particularly impressed with sessions led by Jim Pasternak, head of the directing program at the Los Angeles Film School.  “He teaches hands-on and has mastered constructive criticism,” Marcy applauds.  “I didn’t want his classes to end!”

While Scott, Marcy, and I had different agendas at the 2009 Screenwriting Expo, we were beyond pleased with our experiences.  As William Goldman reminded a packed auditorium, the entertainment landscape is changing now more than ever, and not necessarily for the better.  Our job as screenwriters, directors, actors, and producers is to stay ahead of the curve.  It may be more difficult than ever to break in to the industry, but it is impossible without continually educating ourselves.  If my pocketbook allows, I will continue my education at the 2010 Screenwriting Expo.

For more information about the Screenwriting Expo, visit screenwritingexpo.com or creativescreenwriting.com.

Justen Overlander can be contacted at writerjusten@yahoo.com.  Get details about each session he attended at the 2009 Screenwriting Expo at Justen’s blog: mn2la.blogspot.com.

Attention screenwriters, The New York Television Festival (NYTVF) and ION Television recently announced a new screenplay writing competition called Act I: The ION Television Movie Contest. The competition is open now and runs through November 30th. Writers must submit a movie treatment (5-10 pages) and the first act of their screenplay (20-40 pages). The screenplay will ideally be in the genre of a “drama procedural,” i.e. cop/crime driven script. The winner receives a $40,000 development deal with ION. There aren’t many more details available online; what I did find was on the NYTVF website, not on the ION site. NYTVF promises more details soon.

ION is on a quest to fill out its original programming. Currently, they have an origianl series called Durham County, which some sleuthing online revealed is a show about… uh… secrets in Durham County.  Its tag line is “No secret stays buried forever.” The network rounds out most of its programming with shows from CBS, including The Ghost Whisperer, Criminal Minds and NCIS. It also airs the current incarnation of the game show Family Feud (hosted by John O’Hurley – a.k.a. J. Peterman from Seinfeld!) and M*A*S*H. So, kind of whatever it can make a deal for, plus feature films. Still, the network claims to reachover 96 million U.S. television households and is actively seeking original programming, so the deal has potential for a writer with a strong idea.

NYTVF is an independent television festival held each year in September, that “provides a platform to elevate the work of artists creating for the small screen.” The festival sponsors an Independent Pilot Competition as well.

Laura Selle Virtucio

An ongoing blog about the final days of post production for the Dance Documentary “SOLO: 1X2”, following six dancers as they create unique solos for themselves. The film screens at the Southern Theater on September 25 & 26, 2009. See Trailer. Get Tickets.

I don’t know what day it is anymore: 45 -44? I know I made it to the Film Board Party at Old Arizona – I got the last two mushroom thingies — mmmm good. I kinda miss the old days of print: going to the party, picking up your production guide, smelling the freshly printed pages. But time marches on, and now we can update information daily.

The last time I talked about “SOLO: 1×2” I had three dancers, and was following them around and interfering with their lives. In May of 2007 the McKnight panel met to chose the Fellows for 2007.

I must say that McKnight does make every effort to pick the most deserving fellows. The panel was serious, informed, and qualified. I can’t say much about the process because we signed a confidentially agreement, but I found it interesting.

When it comes to recognition, especially recognition with money attached to it, it’s always a hard thing to guarantee that the right people get picked. For that matter, who are the right people? I’ve sat on State Arts Board panels, and film festival panels, and I have always tried to pick what I thought to be the best artist or film. The problem is, I was doing the picking, and I know many people who disagree with my opinions. So to some people my choices will always be wrong. It all boils down to who does the picking. Luckily all panels are not composed of multiple mes. In the particular case of the six dance fellows that appear in my film, they all were great choices. There is so much great work being produced, its amazing any choices can be made whatsoever.

The three new fellows were Laura Selle Virtucio, Karla Grotting and Abdo Sayegh. We immediately talked to them and got them on board for the project. Then Mary Ellen threw a brunch for all six fellows and we happily filmed away. I was to see them all together only once more before tech week.

A blog about the final days of post production for the Dance Documentary “SOLO: 1X2”, following six dancers as they create unique solos for themselves. The film screens at the Southern Theater on September 25 & 26, 2009. See Trailer. Get Tickets.

Day # 50 and counting: Great progress this week. The structure is working. We’ve given up on seeing anything at the Fringe

Festival except for our show (See Review of “The Three Bonnies” Here, which has two more shows: Aug 7 & 8 at 8:30, @ the Ritz -Tickets Here)

Karla Grotting: In Performance

I have watched with interest as Michele, the writer, has put together the essential structure. We use transcripts, when a client is involved, for approval purpouses, but since we can all use FCP we just make the selects and start moving them around.

I find that the first or second choice is usually the right one. It’s all about making choices.

We are reviewing a rough cut with Mary Ellen on Monday – to check our choices, and have a big pow wow about marketing. I was watching a show at the Southern recently, and I started sweating. The space where we will project the film is huge, the audience is close, and we have to find 250 people a night to see this. We have postcards now, and the Southern Borchure has come out, and I’ve been interviewed by Lightsy Darst for Mpls. St. Paul, but there is still so much to do.

So do the job Bob and stop sweating!

This week, the San Francisco Film Society announced that William R. Hearst III has given a gift to their organization that will enable it to fund the new Hearst Screenwriting Grant, worth $15,000.

Here’s the main thing you need to be to get in on this action: a mid-career screenwriter. What “mid-career” means could be up for interpretation but SFF and William R. Hearst III prefer that, “The candidate must have been a practicing writer for at least five years and who has previously written a minimum of one feature screenplay.” No sweat! I know about 35 people in Minneapolis who fit this bill. Of course, it wouldn’t be an enormous grant everyone wants without a few more hoops to jump through, although these hoops are low to the ground.

You also have to:

Live in the United States

Have a project with a unique personal perspective and an artistic approach (hmmm… I wrote a screenplay about a brother and sister named Elvis and Priscilla who get involved in stealing a painting from a museum and yes, there is incest. It’s not necessarily any good but it’s certainly unique).

Be working in English. Sorry, Mel Gibson.

Be working in standard screenplay format. Sorry, all you screenwriters out there who refuse to buy Final Draft or some other screenwriting software because you think you are so gifted and talented in the area of setting tabs and margins in MS Word.

And of course, priority will be given to writers whose previous short or feature screenplays have been produced as an independent film. Ah, there’s always a kicker, isn’t there? But actually, that’s not so bad. There are plenty of screenwriters here in Minnesota who meet this criteria.

Let’s go after that cash, people! You have to submit a letter of inquiry by August 26th, 2009 to be considered and you must become a Filmmaker Pro member with SFF (clever membership drive idea!). I don’t really know what the letter of inquiry entails but it sounds fun and you can go to the SFF website to get more hints on how this should go… I’m thinking something along the lines of “Dear Grant Givers, I have great ideas in script format. I live in Minnesota. Please send $15,000. Thank you.”

Anyway, who is William R. Hearst III? Well, he’s a billionaire ($1.7 billion, down $700 million as the advertising industry continues to tank) who likes film and advertising. He’s also the grandson of William Randolph Hearst of the Hearst newspaper and publishing empire.  In 1880, George Hearst (William Hearst’s father, William Hearst III’s great-grandfather, are you still with me?) won the San Francisco Examiner newspaper as payment for gambling debt and from there the family built the nation’s largest newspaper chain.

Movie tie-in! William Randolph Hearst was portrayed by Orson Welles in Citizen Kane. Movie tie-in! William Hearst’s other grandchild, Patty Hearst… well, we all know the story there. And if you don’t, you can check out the biopic Patty Hearst (1988) or watch the documentary Guerrilla: The Taking of Patty Hearst (2004) by Robert Stone.

I’m not someone who gets many visitations from the Idea Bunny. This is not to say that I never get any ideas. I do. I just… don’t like them. I know there are writers who have notebooks filled with plot ideas, newspaper clippings, titles, characters, and even partial outlines of future screenplays.

I wish I were that prolific.

I do have a notebook… but it’s not even close to being filled. When I get an idea, I jot it down in the notebook, feed it, and play with it, and hug it (and name it George). At last count, there were eight ideas in my notebook.

Yeah. Eight ideas … I’m not quitting my day job.

Not being prone to great flashes of inspiration, I tend to get pretty envious when I see a movie that came from a good idea. Granted, these days, when it seems like every other film out of Hollywood is a sequel, prequel, or remake, good ideas are climbing up the endangered species list. So I thought I’d salute some of my favorite, “I wish I’d thought of that” movies.

There is a saying that there are only eight (or depending on who you listen to, seven, or twenty-three) possible narratives in literature. The validity of this could be a blog topic in itself. When I look over my list of “I Wish I’d Thought of That” movies,  I realize I had to qualify each film with an acknowledgement that these ideas were versions of recognizable plots. What made them work for me is a combination of subject matter (I happen to like meta-fiction) and the way the writers committed to their idea.

Stranger than Fiction, written by Zach Helm. An IRS auditor (Will Ferrell) hears a voice narrating his life. Ferrell isn’t crazy; he’s a character in an incomplete novel, and doomed to die when the writer (Emma Thompson) finishes it. This one caught my interest because it plays with the idea that there’s another reality beyond the movements of daily life. Granted, the idea of a fictional character hearing his author’s narration isn’t new (I remember a continuing sketch on The Carol Burnett Show), but I liked the way this script took the idea and committed to it with a quiet authority.

Ratatouille, written by Brad Bird. Ok, yes, this is a basic combination of a “fish out of water” and “Cinderella” plot, where an unknown underdog makes good in a big arena. But the underdog happens to be a Rat who wants to be a chef in a high class Parisian restaurant. It’s a clever twist and it works so well because it inserted the idea of the cooking rat into a recognizable world. The rats can’t talk to the humans, the humans are afraid and disgusted by rats in the kitchen, and of course the health inspector stops by. Bird took an off-the-wall situation then followed through with the conflicts that would logically arise from that starting point.

Pleasantville by Gary Ross. A brother and sister from contemporary times get pulled into a black and white 1950s television show. The longer they stay, the more they change the world of the show – and the more it changes them. Again, the basic plot isn’t new; it’s a variation on a time travel story. But unlike most time travel stories, the plot isn’t about the character attempting to return to their time. Instead, it’s a meditation on the values held by the characters in the fictional Pleasantville, and how those values evolve when confronted with the ideas of the modern teens. The film didn’t go where I expected it to, and yet the resolution in the end felt absolutely correct.

Beyond the “I wish I’d thought of that” movies, are the ones that I know never would have occurred to me …. pretty much anything written by Charlie Kaufman. A portal into John Malkovich’s brain? How did he come up with that? Tom Stoppard’s play turned film Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. . . what gave him the idea to flip “Hamlet”? I spent days in awed amazement as I read Michael Chabon’s The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, a noir detective piece set in an alternate history Alaska (I wasn’t going to list this one, since it’s a book, but apparently the Coen Brothers are working on the film adaptation).

Comparing my little idea notebook to the finished products of Kaufman, Stoppard, and Chabon may be counter-productive. If I set myself to the task of coming up with something as brilliant as their work, I’ll end up too paralyzed with fear to do anything. Or… only come up with eight ideas.

Maybe I should stop feeling so intimidated by the concept of the great idea? Instead of believing ideas are mystical visitations, I should spend more time in search of them. Instead of wondering if the idea is fresh, I should try to figure out how to make it fresh. Instead of discarding my ideas as not-good-enough, I should let them hang out; see if they grow into something interesting? Homework for me.

Although even if I fill my notebook, I’ll still envy every great idea that wasn’t mine.

Question for those playing along at home – what movies made you say, “I wish I’d thought of that?”

I’m currently involved in a project in which I’m reading some screenplays written by aspiring screenwriters. And while the plots, characters, dialogue, etc. vary greatly from screenplay to screenplay, I’m finding that the one thing that can make or break a script is whether or not the writer (and I don’t know who any of them are) cared enough to use screenwriting software to write their script and whether or not they edited/proofread their work.

A part of me feels like schoolteacher Miss Beadle from Little House on the Praire standing at the chalkboard when I confess that I find misspelling and poor grammar heartbreaking. Absolutely heartbreaking. Because writers are supposed to care deeply about words, what they look like strung together on the page and what they convey to the reader. To me, sending words out into the world in such disarray seems incredibly disrespectful.

I’ve actually been getting more depressed as I think about this and encounter more typos in the reading I’m doing. Writers need to put their best forward, all the time. And if you think no one will mind if you haven’t mastered the use of “your” vs. “you’re” or “to” vs. “too” you are very wrong. As a reader, I mind. And I’m sure there are many professional script readers, agents, producers and directors who mind very much.

So it was serendipitous that I came across this incredible blog post by screenwriter John August called “Professional Writing and the Rise of the Amateur.” It’s a long post (basically a transcript of a speech he gave at Trinity University in San Antonio in 2006) but it boils down to exactly what I’m thinking today. You don’t get to choose when you want to be a professional and when you want to be an amateur. August said, “All you have is your work. So do your best work. At all times.” Maybe writers should have this tattooed on the backs of our hands so we see it as we plunk away on our keyboards.

I have great respect for anyone who takes on writing a screenplay. Despite those who say, “The script basically wrote itself,” or “I tapped this baby out in five weeks,” it can be, often is, extremely hard work. To get to quality, you have to care. A lot. And part of caring means you bother to give all your characters names, you spell everything correctly and you don’t capitalize nouns just because you think they look better capitalized.

Thank you. Now I will climb down from my soapbox.

This summer Matthew Specktor, a screenwriter and novelist who also worked in development for Jersey Films and in production for Fox 2000, will be in Minneapolis to teach a screenwriting workshop through the Split Rock Art Program on the art and skill of adapting prose into screenplays. At the MFTVB offices, we get many calls each year from people wondering how this works. Sometimes the callers are authors who want to figure out how to go about adapting their own work and sometimes they are trying to find someone to adapt their work for them. I contacted Matthew to ask him about the upcoming workshop and discuss his experiences with adapting screenplays.

One of his first jobs starting out in the business was working as director of literary acquisitions for Jersey Films/Tribeca Productions in New York. This means he was charged with finding and developing books that could be then made into movie, which presented it’s own set of challenges.

“My bosses would scold me,” Matthew said. “They would say, ‘You have fabulous taste. That’s a problem.’” This ties in with the old Hollywood belief that “bad books make great movies,” which he doesn’t feel is necessarily true. The issue is that many great novels are heavily voice-driven and have a lot of interior “stuff” going on (meaning a character’s private thoughts, feelings, memories, etc.) that has to be cut if it’s not filmable. This can make some adaptations tough going and, once they reach the screen, result in public outcry.

It’s a fine line, Matthew explained, because everyone truly sees a book in their own way. His example of a recent adaptation that was well-done but difficult for him to fully embrace was Revolutionary Road, starring Kate Winslett and Leonardo DiCaprio. The book, by Richard Yates, is one of his favorite novels and he’s read it many times. For him, Leonardo DiCaprio as Frank Wheeler was just not at all what he’d imagined during all those readings. In the book, when Frank seduces and sleeps with Maureen Grube, a secretary at his company, there is the sense that it’s a likeable person doing a horrible thing. “In the movie,  Frank in those scenes came off as completely unlikeable, and that’s not what I ever thought when reading the book,” Specktor said. “Subtext can be annihilated.” Recently, he said, we’ve seen adaptations like Revolutionary Road and Atonement that are intelligently made, acted and shot but they aren’t nearly as satisfying as the books.

When asked for an example of a recent adaptation that was well- executed, Specktor pointed to No Country For Old Men. Although some critics contend that the screenplay and movie were a too literal following of the book, Specktor pointed out that, while it is possible for an adaptation to fail for trying to be too faithful to the source material, the Coen brothers were able to infiltrate the story without stepping all over it. For example, Javier Bardem’s now-famous bowl haircut, or when Llewelyn Moss, played by Josh Brolin, wakes up in Mexico to a Mariachi band serenading him. It’s a melding of the sensibility of the screenwriter and director with that of the orginal author’s. Some other notable adaptations, in Specktor’s opinion, include The Godfather, Kubrick’s Lolita, The English Patient and The Talented Mr. Ripley.

But why, exactly, do so many adaptations disappoint rather than delight? And why does Hollywood so often change the ending? The answer lies in the very nature of movie-going. “You don’t want to depress people,” Specktor said. “That’s just the nature of the business.” And endings often have to change because middles change, meaning the structure of the book just doesn’t work for a 90 or 120 minute film. And then there is the inescapable “committee process.” “Of course if you take 15 people’s inputs, a movie is going to end up working towards a ‘mushy middle,’” he said.

If all this is true, and if you’ve seen even 20 movies in your lifetime you can probably confirm it, why are there still so many screenplays made from books? Specktor explained that it’s because studios need compelling stories and novels provide that. He said many “spec” screenplays are often stale retreads of stories depicted a thousand times (he pointed out that there are noteable exceptions, like Being John Malkovich). And published novels provide a “useful toehold” for marketing reasons – the book is a fully realized idea and, hopefully, the book and/or author already has some fans. In other words, it’s not a complete gamble.

Armed with this information, I asked him what I should do if I’m Jane Doe, in love with a novel and convinded I’m just the person to adapt it for the screen. Step one – Google like crazy until you figure out who the author’s agent is. Then contact the agent and explain that you’d like to buy the rights. What are your chances? “It depends on the book  and how well-known the author is,” Specktor said. “Some books are great but not well-known. And agents are there to make money for their clients.” The cost will also depend upon the source material and the agent. So in other words, will Jane Doe get the rights to Stephanie Meyer’s next book? Hell, no. How about to a novel written by a first-time author living in… Minnesota? Possibly. “If you really love a piece of material, it can’t hurt,” he said. “Odds are not great but it’s always worth ‘knocking on the door.’”

To further illustrate, Specktor offered this anecdote:  While still working for a studio, he decided he wanted to adapt The Transit of Venus by Shirley Hazzard. He contacted the agent but he also contacted Shirley Hazzard. He wrote her a letter explaining who he was, why he loved her book and that he wanted to make it into a film. Several months later, Shirley contacted him and the process of securing the rights was rolling. Later, a producer asked Specktor if he would adapt the book.

Currently, Specktor works as a novelist (his first book will be published this year and he’s at work on a second) and screenwriter (after the The Transit of Venus adaptation was complete, he moved on to writing a spec script of his own). “It takes ungodly amounts of perspiration to make these things happen,” he said. “For Transit of Venus, I went through 18 to 20 drafts, of which the first four were complete page one rewrites. I would sit down every afternoon and I would say, “I am writing the worst script ever,’ but I struggled through many horrible drafts. It takes so much work. Most people would find it profoundly discouraging.”

However, while screenwriting may not be innate, it is a learnable skill. “I will say that within the first 10 minutes, an audience has to know what the story is about. As humans, our brains are wired that way.” When asked about all the how-to-screenwrite books out there, as well as any number of seminars, he said that they are very good if you’re also prepared to absorb it and throw it away at the same time. You can’t let all the rules and structure get in your way. This is one thing he hopes to impart through his workshop thi summer. “My ambition is to guide people to write a good script, or at least have something solid to start from.”

Matthew Specktor’s workshop, This Book Is a Movie: The Art of Adaptation is part of the University of Minnesota’s Split Rock Arts Program and will take place June 14-19, 2009. The class will use a short novel as a springboard to explore adaptation as a means of addressing screenwriting in general.

I hate your script already.  I hate it before you even ask me to read it.  I hate the title, all seventeen pretentious words.  I hate you insist on telling me writing this script was a transcendent experience requiring you to rip open your soul and pour your heart all over the page.  I hate you want to confide in me the talent attached and the production elements already in play before I’ve even had a chance to glance at the screenplay.  I hate that you shared with me that you feel the three act structure is much too limiting.  I hate you just handed me one hundred and fifty tuna salad stained pages of what seems to be an eighteen act screenplay.

Most of all I hate that you have put me in a position to fully disclose how epically bad your script really is… Because I kinda like you.

So why not take the path of least resistance?  Where’s the harm in a little white lie?  Why risk being brutally honest so that you, a peer, may reject my criticism and now regard me in one of the following three ways:

1.  You think I’m a pud.

2.  You think I’m a pud and a seething green cauldron of envy attempting to sabotage the most perfectly imagined script ever created.  Every Mozart needs their Salieri and really, you knew it was only a matter of time.

3.  You think I’m a pud not capable of being a seething green cauldron of envy because my tiny little lizard brain cannot handle such sophisticated upper limbic emotions.

Because if I’m not your worst ninja assassin cyborg script-ripping nightmare who else will be?  That small moon sized plot hole?  Your story arc collapses into it like the black-suck-hole it is.  And are your characters angry pirates?  Because your creative utilization of “Fuck”, “Fuck’en”, and “Fuckbag” liberally dumped throughout the dialog would suggest so.  Also, thanks for the massive amounts of exposition.  I’ve read pop-up books with more subtly.

You didn’t expect an ambush, did you?  I can tell because you’re starting to get defensive, aggressive even.  You’re trying to figure out which one of the three pud motivations is driving me to this obvious sadistic cruelty.  You were expecting “Agreeable Script Buddy” and instead you got “Crusher of the Sacred Dream”.

Other people liked it?  Who?  Don’t tell me a Filmmaker who wants to make it into a full-blown feature film here in town.  Being a Filmmaker myself I have a unique perspective on the psychology of said artist – first and foremost we often hold the belief that very forces of reality, nature, and the temporal fabric of the universe are mere details that will bend to the power of our talent and will… which coincidentally is the reason why many of us are habitually unemployed.  Second, and unfortunately, their myopic desire to make a film often greatly outweighs the time and energy needed to develop a proper script.

And WHY am I unmercifully throttling your script to death with the heavy hammer of bluntly honest righteousness?  Because right here, right now you can fix it.  Before a single dime is dumped into production and the time and talent of our amazing local cast & crews is wasted on this train-wreck you, the writer, can fix it.  Script development is the single most controllable stage in the production process as well as being one of the most influential.

But hey, who am I to say your script is, in its current incarnation, a cultural atrocity?  Fine, just wait until the screenplay is made into a film and it’s your writing talent crystallized up on that screen to be judged by an audience who have paid for entertainment. There is plenty of blame to go around when a movie takes a turn to Crapsville, but it almost always starts at the script level.

Bottom line:  Screenwriters, please, please, please DEMAND brutally honest critiques.  ‘Minnesota Nice’ does no favors for script development.