Congratulations! You finished a draft! This is something to be very proud, excited, anxious, elated, thrilled, and terrified about. By finishing this draft you have single handedly pushed yourself above the ranks of those who could not finish a draft. Take a deep breath. Pat your back. Or have someone pat it for you. There are far less of us who finish. Trust me. (Go check out the stats. I’ll wait.)

So. Now what? Where do you go from here?

Let’s face it first drafts are notoriously awful. Everyone writes bad first drafts. Even Paul Haggis and Diablo Cody (although I’ve never actually read a first draft of either of theirs, but I imagine they’re just like the rest of us.)

Here’s the good news: What you finished (and yay you finished it!) is by far the worst draft you will ever write. Why is this good news? Because you’re a professional writer and your script will only get better.

We asked David S. Goyer, writer of The Dark Knight, Batman Begins, and the Blade films (to name a few), to share his expert advice with new writers. Here's what he had to say…

1) ROMANTICIZING WRITING…DON’T DO IT. Many beginning writers have a tendency to romanticize the act of writing. They imagine themselves as pint-sized Colettes or Hemingways or the screenwriter du jour.

But the dirty little truth is – most writing isn’t romantic at all. Real writing involves brutal, soul-searching, often isolating work. And I’ve found that most real, seasoned writers approach it as a craft, rather than a calling.

Because writing is a solitary, formless pursuit it’s important to impose a structure upon it. Self-discipline is the key. For me, things turned around when I started treating the act of writing like a salaried day-job. I found a place to work (i.e. “office”) that wasn’t in my home. I made a point of going there, turning off my phone, and logging in a requisite amount of hours. I didn’t just write when the muse visited me. I made myself write on a schedule – usually from 9 until 2 every weekday. And I made myself write whether I was feeling inspired or not. Gradually, I found that my writing came more easily. I realized that I’d been exercising a particular set of mental muscles and that they were responding to my self-imposed discipline just like their flesh and blood counterparts.

I spend a lot of time on my website, www.scriptfaze.com, talking about things writers SHOULD DO to improve their writing, and to make their scripts as snappy and sellable as possible. I’m also amazed by all the great tips and insight provided here on the Script Frenzy website—what an amazing resource! That said, I figured it was time someone went Debby Downer for just a minute, and covered a few pitfalls that all writers should be careful NOT TO DO while crafting their latest script.

So, here are five common mistakes that every screenwriter should AVOID:

1) SUPPORTING CHARACTERS AS SOUNDING BOARDS

It’s true. Your antagonist needs people to talk to, and there’s no better way to sneak in a little exposition than to craft a witty conversation between your hero and their best friend, their mom, or even that stranger they bump into on the subway. The problem many writers run into, however, is forgetting to make these supporting leads fully formed

I’ve written a lot of weird short humor pieces in my 8-plus years as a member of a sketch comedy group. Some have made it to the stage, while many, many more still lay dormant on thumb drives and in dark, dank file cabinets. This has, essentially, been all the training I’ve had in this genre. And you don’t really need training to do this kind of writing. You just need to know what you find funny. Then you need to commit to a vision that’s clear, has some kind of driving force behind it, and is short.

The last word in the above paragraph is the most important. And most of the advice I have to give about writing sketch has to do with this word. Writing sketch is not like writing plays or even full five-minute dramatic scenes where you have to dive deep into the characters and refine the arcs and chart all the intersecting plot points. Your audience not only knows your sketch is gonna be brief, they expect it to be brief. In fact, it’s what they paid for.

So that gives you permission to take certain liberties—be it voiceover or breaking the 4th wall or sudden blackouts or the hawk attacks. Whatever is going to up the stakes for your characters or push you to make bigger comedic choices. Your scene doesn’t even have to be

So you have an idea for this amazing script. (Don’t we all?) What do you do with this idea? Where do you begin? Do you outline? Do you just dive in? The hardest part to writing a script is really, well, writing.

To decide what to do with your nugget of an idea, simply start writing. Get it all out of your system and fast before it passes you by. Quickly write down all of your thoughts and ideas on the subject. What could happen in the story and what may never see the actual final draft are all equally important.

You can do this for an outline, for the actually script, for a treatment, or even to flesh out potential characters you might see in your movie.

There are times when writing is an uphill march (barefoot, with snow and wolves). There are times when we have to write something, fail, come back, do it again, fail, come back, do it again, until we've got it right.

Now is not that time.

We have only got one month to write a script. We need to write downhill. We need to steer around obstacles, not through them.

So, we wrote that opening scene. The one with the snowmobile chase through Minneapolis-St. Paul, with leopards. (Or maybe our idea of a big opening scene is some guy sitting down with some wife who doesn't like him and complaining about the grapefruit–it

When in doubt (or when in a writing rut) add a love story.

1. Everybody Gets It: As soon as we see two handsome people give each other that extra-long look we all know what’s coming: L-O-V-E or, let’s be honest, L-U-S-T. Not only do we immediately understand what’s up, but we also want it to work. Adding a large or small flirtation is a simple, exciting way to layer another level of tension and anticipation to your story. And we’re not talking just romantic comedies here–any story can benefit whether it's horror, bachelor comedy, thriller, or adventure. You don’t need a period costume drama, you just need people we care about and a little twinkle in their eye. A love story gives your plot one more thing for your audience to root for and connect to–plus its fun, sexy, and plays on everyone’s desires.

Alex Epstein
Rabbi Hillel was asked to sum up the Torah while standing on one foot. "That which is hateful to you, don't do it to your neighbor," he said. "The rest is commentary."

If you asked me to sum up my writing advice while standing on one foot, I would tell you three things.

a. You need a hook.

The hook is what gets people reading your script and gets the audience to see your movie. It’s just a compelling, attractive story idea in a nutshell. “Five unemployed steelworkers put on a strip show to raise money.” “A kid discovers his dog can play basketball.” “A ditz joins the Army to prove herself.”

Part One | Part Two

"How To Structure", more like. Story structure, now that’s a beast. And necessary for sure, and there’s a tried-and-true form you’d be wise to use as a guideline. Of course, Hollywood haters will scream “formula” and apologists will apologize for the poor execs who just need a little help understanding but I say the traditional three-act form can be a creative asset, done organically - it can keep the story energized, focused and interesting. So here’s the basic three-act structure, guidelines to be considered, not rules to be followed:

Act 1 pages 1 - 15
Set up the characters and main story by page 10. Cause the main story to kick off on page 10. Cause the story to have a major reversal on page 15.

Act 2 pages 16 - 60
Complexify the story, add subplots, reveal new information. Cause the story to have a major reversal on page 40, and another on page 60.

WHY FORMAT?

Part One | Part Two

Be afraid. Be very afraid. Also, be daunted. Be quaking in your boots. Be paralysed. Be stricken. Because formatting is difficult, right? Right. Formatting’s terrifying. Imperative. Mandatory. Obligatory.

Except it isn’t. In truth, formatting is a bit of a red herring, a test that sorts the wheat from the chaff. Those who pass know formatting is irrelevant. Well, almost. Certainly it’s irrelevant in the beginning stages. That’s because writing a screenplay is nothing more than writing a story. Sure, there’s some structural niceties and, at some point, the story will have to be understood by studio bean-counters. But in the first place there’s no need for formatting at all, least not till you’re ready for sale. So relax, stuff formatting, and start fretting about page count.

Ah, page count. The iron fist of the studio process. Page count is all-important because of a cherished industry iROT (iROT = idiotic Rule Of Thumb):

1 page = 1 minute running time = $250,000 upwards

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