I always talk about structure. Knowing where something is going and having a plan. Being ready and prepared, detail oriented, outlining and making notes as much as possible. That's why the script I've been working on is so against my type.
The story takes place over the course of about twenty years. It's a collection of moments that paint a family portrait. The tone I'm going for is darkly dysfunctional comedy. I know how it ends, I know how it begins, but instead of mapping out every step along the path I'm just letting it come to me.
Part of the inspiration for breaking my standard method is listening to and reading some of David Lynch's thoughts on writing. Over recent years he has become much more open about his creative process, and as somebody who enjoys his work I was intrigued to hear where it comes from.
For about three decades he has been practicing Transcendental Meditation. He takes twenty minutes every morning and every afternoon and clears his mind to let the thoughts, feelings, and images come to him. There is quite a bit more to it than that, but for the sake of the article we'll leave it at that.
The point is that he doesn't over think his work, find the moments to manipulate and twist the story to trick the audience, and he doesn't use clichés for shorthand just to get something out. His movies have more natural tone and emotion than something crafted by established processes. He lets the reality come to him then works out how the moments and ideas need to come together.
This isn't to say that structure and established methods are bad. I've been very clear on that point. One needs to know how to tell a story if they want the story to get out right. Many people don't like Lynch's work because it gets out of his head and onto the screen, but what pushed it out of his head doesn't always get into the head of the viewer. In other words, his process by its nature means quite a few people won't "get it."
I usually come up with an idea. A concept, a location, a theme, a twist, some sort of hook to start on so I can start weaving instead of fumbling with loose strings. I figure out all of the elements I need, all of the events to get from the beginning to the end, what it all means towards some deeper universal truth or experience, and anything else to get started. I need to know what's going on before I can explain it.
With the current script, I'm trying to catch each moment as I go. That core idea is a loose one. A family that's built on the hatred of the parents and the honesty that comes with a house like that, but how that honesty could actually be a good thing if they channel it right. It's the one emotion people almost never pretend to feel, so I think it has a good potential use as a base for communication.
That idea is the theme, but it's not really a story. Instead of telling one story I am looking for all of the stories that make up our lives, then telling them one by one. What are the defining moments? What could change a person at an early age? What would somebody think back on from their youth and remember? These are the bits I want to fill the script. More of a visceral family album than a straight narrative.
Normally I will write front to back. I will take my notes and just start at the beginning, end at the end, and avoid any detours along the way. This way I have a first draft that generally gets everything covered. After that I'll fill in gaps, trim things, and so forth, but the first go is chronological.
Here I have things peppered all over. A moment in high school might come out, but then something in the way a person reacts makes me wonder why they did what they did. I'll try and imagine what happened in their past. That moment gets written, but begs for a follow up from somebody else. Things will sometimes just be funny anecdotes while others self-contained tragedies. It's all just life.
I don't make the time to sit down and work on it like I do with other things. Part of this is because I have a bunch of stuff I'm working on that's not writing. This way, when a scene comes to me I can get it out then go back to what I'm doing, not cursing myself for not getting anything done. Sometimes my insomnia provides bits. Sometimes I will try and meditate. Just let things get quiet and stop thinking. It takes a while, and I'm not good at it really, but even getting rid of some distractions helps the vision of the scene to be a bit clearer.
I can't say yet whether it will be any good when it's done. Maybe after an extra draft or two. Maybe it's just a noble experiment. The important thing is that even though I've developed what I like to think are good habits, I am willing to break those habits to keep the process fresh. I feel like there's a more consistent truth to the scenes than I usually have. It's at the cost of pacing, but somewhere in the middle is at least within my grasp.
The important thing to get from this week's column is that no matter what you do to get things done, there's always another way. Give it a shot. If it works, you have another tool at your disposal. If it doesn't, it will just strengthen your confidence in how you work right now.
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| Make Me Proud |
Every other Monday
Exploring everything you should consider as you make your
indie masterpiece.
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| Patrick Storck |
Patrick hails from Baltimore, MD, where playing by the rules is frowned upon. Only average things come from playing it safe.
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