by Michael Lent
Most writers are nonconformists who hate to be told how to structure their lives. &#8220;I have to wake, work and sleep when? Says who?&#8221; That aberrant inclination carries over to our actual writing. We say things like, &#8220;I just want to write and see where the characters and the story take me.&#8221; With that mantra chugging around in my neophyte writer brain, the result was a first screenplay weighing in at 165 pages. I wish it were brilliant enough to warrant the sacrifice of all that paper but truth to tell, the script read like the Siege of Leningrad and if it fell on your foot, you would get a seismic concussion. Afterwards, I had to admit that I had lost the thread. Worse, I had no clue how to get it back. That&#8217;s when I turned to Syd Field whose foundation books, specifically Screenplay: The Foundations in Film Writing and The Screenwriter&#8217;s Workbook: Exercises and Step-by-Step Instruction for Creating a Successful Screenplay, showed me exactly where I had gone wrong and more importantly, gave me a road map to fix the problems.
Later, as a working screenwriter who had also done a bit of studio coverage, I wrote a cover story for Creative Screenwriting magazine called &#8220;Beyond Syd Field&#8221; wherein I postulated that story structure in typical Hollywood studio screenplays in the latter 1990s was changing with beats coming sooner and with less patience for the story structure found in Screenplay: The Foundations in Film Writing. The article generated much discourse along with some sharp criticism from several Field adherents along the lines of &#8220;Who the hell does Mental Lental think he is???&#8221; My response became a second article that evolved into the Belly of the Beast column that ran for several years. Not long after &#8220;Beyond Syd Field,&#8221; I was speaking at an event that also included Syd.  I was both nervous and excited when we were introduced. Immediately, he said, &#8220;Oh, yes, I read your article in Creative Screenwriting.&#8221; I eyeballed an emergency exit while waiting for the other shoe to drop [possibly on my head], but he then went on, &#8220;You are right. Things are changing. Matter of fact, I&#8217;m covering it in my new book.&#8221; I believe that was The Screenwriter&#8217;s Problem Solver that came out in 1998. Huge sigh of relief as I realized that we both coming from the same place: a desire to understand the mechanics of story telling in film and share whatever we discovered along the journey.
I saw Syd on other occasions. He was always the soul of affability. His work remains a sublime paradigm with earned resolution that will continue to inspire, instruct and reward generations of writers to come.

Syd Field, An Appreciation

by Michael Lent
In a world of lettuce, Elmore Leonard was meat. Patron saint to crime novelists and screenwriters, his prose got to the meat of things. Quickly. His writing style was crisp, direct and never called attention to anything but the story. His titles were blunt like a punch in the nose. Leonard’s characters knew right from wrong but often didn’t care.  He said, ““Psychopaths&#8230; people who know the differences between right and wrong, but don&#8217;t give a shit. That&#8217;s what most of my characters are like.” I got hooked on Leonard after reading Get Shorty. It remains my favorite story of his. I even liked the film adaptation. As a writer, you’re constantly aware that you stand on the shoulders of those who came before you. Elmore Leonard had powerful shoulders. His work lives on. He will be missed. Here’s my list of 10 essential Elmore Leonard stories:
<ol>
<li>Get Shorty</li>
<li>52 Pickup</li>
<li>Rum Punch</li>
<li>3:10 to Yuma</li>
<li>Swag</li>
<li>Killshot</li>
<li>Hombre</li>
<li>Out of Sight</li>
<li>Mr. Majestyk</li>
<li>Pronto</li>
</ol>
Readers, what’s on your list? And here&#8217;s an article from the master himself:
<h3>WRITERS ON WRITING; Easy on the Adverbs, Exclamation Points and Especially Hooptedoodle</h3>
By ELMORE LEONARD Published: July 16, 2001 These are rules I&#8217;ve picked up along the way to help me remain invisible when I&#8217;m writing a book, to help me show rather than tell what&#8217;s taking place in the story. If you have a facility for language and imagery and the sound of your voice pleases you, invisibility is not what you are after, and you can skip the rules. Still, you might look them over. <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2001/07/16/arts/writers-writing-easy-adverbs-exclamation-points-especially-hooptedoodle.html?src=pm">Click here</a> for the rest of the article (at the New York Times).

Elmore Leonard Tribute

by Michael Lent
Author’s Note: Usually, I write nuts and bolts pieces like “Five Bears You Need to Avoid and Seven Ways to Fend Them Off With Toe Nail Trimmers;” however, since this is the inaugural column of the Creative Screenwriting re-launch, this conceptual piece is my way of saying, “Good to be home.”
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<h3>The headline on the email blast read “Get it together! Start fresh!”</h3>
I know September is fast approaching and that’s the time of year when we feel pressure to ramp up and cast out the old for the new. Trust me, the fresh start doesn’t last. Often the problem goes beyond typical writers’ malaise and lies in trying to make too many “jumps to light speed,” across-the-board changes at once. A “hot” new pilot or spec written in a new style with a new partner intended for a new agent is too many quantum leaps, sure to slam us into the side of a high-rise a few months from now so, no, I don’t want a fresh start.
Instead, much like the old analogy of the butterfly flapping its wings in China, a few carefully crafted micro-adjustments will reap the more dramatic effect. When our writing and business sense is 95% there, it’s that last 5% that can make all the difference in creating the right access, opportunity and result. The right simple change can have a profound impact right now. Proof of this is all around us. In fact, I owe my career as a working writer/producer to this simple principle of micro calibrations.
Put a group of writers together for an extended period of time and invariably one will break out of the pack career wise. (If this hasn’t happened, you’re in the wrong group.) Some of the others will lament their sour grapes that “There’s virtually no difference between [him/her] and me. I’m just as talented as him/her.” Sometimes they’re right. The distinction can be infinitesimal. One writer gets his contract renewed to staff a series. Another is back in the hunt, even though they both were in the room and broke the same scripts. Four years into my foray as a professional writer, I had half a dozen jobs at once and nothing to show for all of my writing except a few $500 production company options and a fistful of free right-to-shop agreements. There was the cavalcade of big budget specs that didn’t quite sell and studio assignments that I didn’t quite get. My friends were basically in the same boat: waiting for agents or producers to call. Things were looking grimmer than a Lone Ranger sequel. Then I decided to make one small adjustment: I would stop waiting for career validation from the Universal Studios of the world and immediately be the writer I wanted to be with the career I wanted to have.
That was the one change.
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<h3> C – H – A – N – G – E</h3>
To repeat, I would stop waiting for the Prize Patrol to show up and start treating my work with the respect it deserved. Immediately, I slew those internal dragons that ostensibly guarded my self-esteem, but in fact roared at me at all hours of the night with enough self-doubt to keep me from changing the state of my career. While I realized that some self-doubt can be a good motivator, from that point on, nothing was out of my league. And yet, the league that I was already in was chockablock with opportunity. So the gritty little $500 options and assignments I managed to scrape together were no longer depressing stop gaps, or as one colleague referred to them, “cabana boy gigs.” Instead they were legitimate opportunities to lock down future relationships.
For the next one that came my way, I sought out an entertainment accountant, as well as an entertainment attorney who charged $250 just to look over the deal memo. That meant the lawyer got half of my contract. Meanwhile, the accountant charged me three times what H &amp; R Block did to do my taxes. Initially, “Yikes!” but then, “Fine.” The accountant soon had me form a corporation that got my money back including her fees. And the lawyer proceeded to put a couple of key protections into the deal memo language that more than paid for itself in terms of peace of mind. Plus, our professional relationship was off and running. Having a team behind me felt different, better than having gel inserts in my boxer briefs, and more like having a special key to a suitcase of nitro glycerin.
Emboldened, I started looking for projects to produce. To-date that has meant five films in locations as far flung as China and with budgets ranging up to $1 Million. I also took on “producing” graphic novel projects that subsequently were optioned as feature film projects. The graphic novel writing and producing work segued into video games and I’ve worked on three of those. In otherwords, I made one adjustment and suddenly, had a development slate and operated like a mini-studio. My day became filled with actors, artists, publishers, writers and producers. I didn’t wait for my cell phone to ring because usually, I was initiating the calls.
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<h3>Be the writer you want to be right now</h3>
Lots of times we think the next level is about someone else having more resources or more access. Yet there are plenty of people bopping around with incredible access but can’t make a go of it. They seem to have it all and don’t do anything with it. Here in Hollywood, it’s common to come across the children of legendary actors, directors or producers. The personal legacy of many of these privileged progeny is little more than some compromising footage blasted on TMZ.
We have to carry ourselves as the writer we aspire to be before we put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard… before we pick up that phone to set up our meeting. Then “Just do it.” One time a producer who was stressing the importance of execution said to me, “Good ideas are like assholes, everybody’s got at least one.” Uh… but I don’t agree that ideas, or even thoughts are in easy, limitless supply. Thoughts aren’t free in the sense that they take up space in the brain. We can only hold onto so many, hence the invention of paper and iPads. Ideally, we want our brain filled with stuff pertaining to that amazing new project. Fine, but all too often our brain is filled with less inspirational matters like, “If I don’t sell this timely blockbuster on the dangers of acid reflux, how will I afford to be buried in a paupers’ grave?” or less charitable thoughts about how that aforementioned “friggin’ no-talent” colleague might be hit by a Mr. Tasty Ice Cream truck and thus, restore some sense of order to the Cosmos. Cynicism is a very dubious currency that’s only honored in the black markets of a tortured psyche.
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<h3>Work on personal projects that are worthy of the writer you see yourself becoming</h3>
We start our process of butterfly effects right now by truly believing we are gifted writers with limitless capabilities. Here those of us steeped in the Power of Negative Thought will say, “Hey, Mental Lental! None of that gifted-shmifted crap matters unless you’ve actually written a brilliant script.” Truth is, if you’ve read as many scripts as I have and judged as many competitions, it hits you that only a tiny fraction are brilliant… or out-and-out crap. Ninety percent are, “Meh, that was okay.” It occurs to me that if those writers truly believed they were gifted, would they really write about zombie vampire rock bands or drug deals [with vampires and zombies] in warehouses gone bad? Or would they risk sharing just a little more insight with their audience? Wouldn’t they feel free to truly express themselves and trust their craft to deliver something no one had ever quite put on paper before? At the very least a new way into Hitchcock or screwball comedies, etc.
As a part-time writing instructor, I ask students to name their five favorite films. Often a student who was writing Count Chocola: The Movie would proclaim his favorite film of all time to be Goodfellas. That’s a disconnect of confidence and ambition. Anything worth doing involves risk and putting yourself out there a bit. That’s what we need to focus on instead of being concerned over losing a few heat shield tiles from one’s ego.
I realize that the idea of butterfly wings is a bit conceptual. Many writers have more immediate concerns like:
How do we land a meeting?
How do we make sure that it’s a good meeting?
How do we cement our reputation as a talented writer AND walk away with a deal?
How do we earn a consistent and good living with this craft, this hobby, this thing we love so much?
My book Breakfast with Sharks is filled with the answers to these game plan/taking action and taking chances sorts of questions. My future columns in Creative Screenwriting will be like that, too. But going beyond “A is to B is to C” specifics, what we’re really talking about is turning our desire into our reality. What we’re talking about is going to the next level in our careers. We see it happening every day for others, so we know it’s possible. And we’re right. It is our turn. And the good news is that we may be one small change away.

Syd Field, An Appreciation

Elmore Leonard Tribute

C – H – A – N – G – E

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