tips and tricks – Vargoing

In Praise of Naps

@wdavisliterary posted this on Twitter a few weeks ago: “The Four Horsemen of Procrastination”

Screen Shot 2019-10-25 at 6.43.16 PM — From @tcviani on Instagram

It’s a solid observation, and it was meant in good fun. I did, however, have one quibble. Naps are part of the writing process. I cheekily said as much in my reply. She responded as well, saying that napping is “totally” procrastination. And To be fair, the act of napping is not the act of writing. But napping IS part of the writing process (the creative process more generally) as are showers, bike rides, long walks, and getting lost on public transit.

I’m not much of a fighter, but this is one battle I’m not going to take lying down.

Things are going to get Biblical

There are a lot of themes in the Bible, but the importance of dreams seems to permeate all 60+ books. There’s Old Testament Joseph and his famous technicolor dreamcoat; Jonah who was fast asleep before being thrown overboard to a whale; Job, whom God scolds for not listening to his dreams; and New Testament Joseph who decides to divorce his miraculously pregnant fiancé before settling down for some zzz’s. After a good nap (and some meddling angels) he changes his mind.

It’s this last point I want to emphasize. Joseph had a problem he wasn’t sure how to handle. After he thought about it for a while, he took a nap. The Psalms also speak about this magical, problem-solving nap. “…Meditate in your heart upon your bed, and be still” (Psalm 4:4). “Hear my cry for help… In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice” (Psalm 5:2-3).

The general theme here is that your problem is too big for you to comprehend. Don’t even bother trying to solve it. In fact, you’re better off getting a good night’s sleep. Somehow, miraculously, the problem will solve itself.

Seriously, though…

Research into creativity has revealed that there is real wisdom in ancient, well, wisdom. Your brain needs time to ruminate on ideas. In his book Where Good Ideas Come From, Steven Johnson refers to this as the “slow hunch.” Over time (minutes, days, years?) you slowly, subconsciously consider the same problem as you age, mature, learn, and change. You open yourself up to “serendipity” (another of Johnson’s terms), as your brain forms new, unexpected connections. (It had never occurred to me that when I did a bible study with my wife five years ago, I could use that information for ammunition in a Twitter argument about screenwriting.)

In his work The Art of Thought, Graham Wallas shares this reflection from the prolific German physicist Hermann von Helmholtz.

…happy ideas come unexpectedly without effort, like an inspiration. So far as I am concerned, they have never come to me when my mind was fatigued, or when I was at my working table… They came particularly readily during the slow ascent of wooded hills on a sunny day.*

Wallas goes on to describe Helmholtz’s three stage process: preparation, where you consider the problem at hand; incubation, where you do not think about the problem at all; and finally, illumination, where the solution simply pops into your head. Sound familiar?

Physical activity is great way to keep your neurons on their toes, but don’t worry if there aren’t any “wooded hills” near your writing desk. Johnson thinks dreams may be just as beneficial as fresh air. In fact, he wonders if that most analytical of dreamers wasn’t on to something.

Sigmund Freud, he says, had it backwards. Dreams aren’t repressed memories trying to come to the surface, but our brains searching for meaning through all of the clutter (sights, smells, conversations, thoughts, obstacles, emotions, etc.). Although the evidence is anecdotal, the sewing machine, the periodic table, and the theory of relativity were all conceived by people sleeping on the job. It’s not just science and technology. Artists dream up crazy stuff all of the time. Famously, The Beatles’ “Yesterday,” The Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction,” Frankenstein, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde all started in dreams.

Sometimes a Nap Isn’t Just a Nap

When it comes to creative processes, the best approach is not always head on. Ideas are ephemeral things and you may spook them. Instead, the research seems to suggest that one great approach is, well, napping. Now to be clear, you can’t use this as avoidance (which is what spawned the initial tweet). But what has actually proven to be very effective is gathering all of the pieces in your mind: the inputs and outputs, the technical hurdles, your fears, and in regard to writing, your subject and audience, characters, stories, motivation, and criticisms.

Hold them there. Look at them objectively. Write them down if it helps. Then, forget about them.

Go for a walk. Do some painting. Cook dinner. Take a nap. As long as you’re going to hit your deadline, take a day or two to just let everything simmer. And if you do, you’ll be surprised to see how things miraculously work themselves out.

I hear your protests, but don’t say anything now. Just think it over. Sleep on it. Get back to me in the morning.

*Miller, Susan. The Norton Book of Composition Studies. W.W. Norton & Co., Inc. 2009. 236

Time and Reality

Last year, I wrote a post about Unity or Time (or why biopics have good acting, but are really boring). The basic problem is that real life is mostly boring. And even when you condense a very interesting person’s life into a two hour window, you’re violating one of the foundational laws of screenplay physics: your main character (real or fictional) is under pressure. If they do not achieve their goal soon, they will face serious, negative consequences. (Kind of hard to make that argument when your screenplay covers seventy years…)

John Lee Hancock’s The Founder sidesteps problem in two very clever ways. Overall, it is a very well put together film, and unquestionably worth your time. But if you’re struggling to make your “based on true events” story engaging, you should take particular note of how The Founder handles time.

The Founder tells the story of McDonald’s founder Ray Kroc (deftly and engagingly portrayed by Michael Keaton). One may argue that it is not a proper “biopic” in that it doesn’t tell Kroc’s life story. But that’s point number one. Ray Kroc is only interesting to us because he founded McDonalds (well, franchised it, but whatever… you have to watch the movie). We don’t care what his childhood was like, what he did during the war, or how he whiled away his golden years.* And Hancock wisely choses to focus on that one interesting “moment” of Kroc’s life: the founding of McDonalds.

The second, more interesting point, is in how Hancock handles time: he doesn’t. Intellectually, we know it takes time to get building permits, train staff, track revenue growth, etc. And all of this time, while Kroc is waiting to turn a profit, he’s sweating bullets. But Hancock never tells us how much time has passed. He never shows the changing of the seasons or ages Michael Keaton. So while the real events took anywhere form weeks to years, the pacing of the film feels like each scenes follows day after day and may only have taken a week or two. It’s entirely engrossing.

This all falls back on Robert D. Siegel’s expertly crafted script that continues to escalate and grow with each new scene. We’re not sure how long it takes for Kroc to realize he’s not making any money, and it doesn’t matter. The point is, he’s not making any money. This leads to a second infuriated phone call to the McDonalds brothers, Kroc’s wife finding out about the mortgage, and Kroc’s quest to reduce refrigeration costs (a plot point that instigates all kinds of other interesting complications). The story just keeps pressing onward.

Is this an accurate representation of Ray Kroc’s life? I can’t say. But I can tell you it’s a movie. And it’s a damn good one. So keep these two tricks up your sleeve as you work on your future projects, especially if they’re based on true events. When you get down to it, your audience’s time is the biggest factor you need to consider. And if they are emotionally engaged in your movie, they won’t be looking at the clock. It may not be a burger in thirty seconds, but it’s a service you should definitely aim to provide.

*Some mention of Kroc’s backstory (previous failed business ventures) is appropriately and entertaining revealed as backstory through dialogue in the second act of the film. It’s a great case study in effective use of dialogue and exposition.

Getting People to Like You(r Characters)

We’ve all been there: trying to impress your love interest, trying to convince your parents your tuition money hasn’t been wasted, or even just trying not to be picked last in dodge ball. It’s hard to get people to like you. So how can you convince them to root for your main character, especially if they’re an anti-hero or, well, frankly kind of a jerk? This won’t necessarily solve your problems, but here are a few tips.

Save the Cat

Save the Cat Cropped

This first one comes straight from Blake Snyder’s highly recommended Save the Cat. Simply put, have your protagonist save a cat or do some other altruistic thing to endear them to your audience. You could have them literally save a cat like Ripley in Alien, give bread to starving children like Aladdin in Aladdin, or take on charity cases like Lucy Kelson in Two Weeks Notice. In cases like Aladdin where you protagonist is a thief, your “save the cat” moment might be more necessary. But no matter what, people will find it easier to root for your characters if they actually seem like decent people.

Flaws

Even though we need to like them, your protagonist can’t be perfect. Generally, your protagonist’s going to have some major flaw. That’s the source of their “unconscious goal.” The thing that they need to fix that they don’t know they need to fix. Lightning McQueen must overcome his ego (Cars), Dianna must overcome her naiveté (Wonder Woman), and Alan Grant must overcome his fear of children (Jurassic Park).

But your characters also need smaller quirks whose primary function is to make them more human. In Save the Cat, Blake Snyder calls this the “six things that need fixing.” In Kramer Vs. Kramer, Ted Kramer needs to learn to be a good father, but he also needs to learn how to cook and struggles to find a new job. He goes through the same kind of shit we do. Indiana Jones may be the coolest professor ever, but he’s terrified of snakes. These character flaws don’t always affect the plot, but they do make your characters more endearing.

Primal Struggles

This is another Save the Cat tip. Snyder uses it in reference to the premise, but a relatable premise creates relatable characters. As Snyder explains it, your premise should be easy enough to explain to a caveman. It’s primal: revenge, trying to impress a love interest, trying to escape a monster. These are things we can all relate to. Maybe you’ve never had to run from a T. rex, but you may have had to run from Rex. It was terrifying, and you can relate.

Ever been a renown neurosurgeon by day who transitions into a destructive narcissist at exactly 8:25 every night? Me neither. I’m not saying it’s the only reason Do No Harm had the lowest ratings for a primetime drama premier ever, but it certainly didn’t help. It’s hard to relate to a character that’s so specific and so bizarre.

Familiar in Fantasy

But that doesn’t mean that you can’t do fantasy. Far from it. Fantasy and science fiction give writers immense creative freedom to explore new worlds and examine what it means to be human in unique contexts. Otherworldly characters do risk alienating the audience. I mean, who knows what it’s like to be a vampire or a hobbit? But there are still ways we can relate to these characters.

The key is to focus on the similarities between your audience and your subject matter. I don’t know anything about the blood feud between vampires and werewolves, but I can relate to forbidden love. I’ve never had to throw a ring of power into Mount Doom, but I’ve had to face difficult situations that even my closest fur-footed friends could not help me with.

A few months ago, Merriam-Webster posted this fantastic article looking at the different artistic approaches between Star Trek and Star Wars. Trust me, I know a lot of trekkies, but Star Trek doesn’t have quite the same mass following as the Force. The article’s definitely worth a look (and it really emphasizes the importance of diction, which I discuss here).

Empathy

All of these tricks have one goal: building empathy between your characters and your audience. You want your audience to go on an emotional journey with your characters. That’s empathy. And it’s different than sympathy.

If you hear about a successful lawyer who was diagnosed with AIDS, outed for being gay, and then fired for being outed, you might feel bad for him. That’s sympathy. But you don’t know what it’s like to be him. In 2017, AIDS isn’t as scary as it used to be and most people really don’t care if you’re gay. But when you watch Philadelphia, you go on a journey with Andrew Beckett. You learn what it was like to get AIDS in the early 90s. You experience the fear and the stigmatism. That’s empathy.

To illustrate the point further, consider two of M. Night Shyamalan’s films. In The Sixth Sense, we feel empathy for Dr. Malcolm Crowe. We go on a journey with him. We, the audience, learn that Dr. Crowe is (spoiler alert) dead at the same time he does. It’s just as shocking to him as it is to us. That’s why it works.

In The Village, however, something felt distinctly off. There was just something about The Village that didn’t add up. Most of the characters knew that the village and the monsters were a trick. You know who didn’t know? The audience. It was a gimmick.

Audiences felt taken advantage of and they didn’t like it. Ivy Walker, the blind main character, never learned the truth. It’s hard to go on a journey with someone who doesn’t go on a journey. Sure, you might feel bad for her. You may have sympathy for her. She does live with a bunch of delusional, conniving sociopaths, after all. But it’s difficult to experience empathy with her because you’re going on completely different journeys.

“But wait!” some of you are saying. “Isn’t that just dramatic irony? You know where the audience knows something that the main character doesn’t?” Why yes. Yes it is. In this clip from Harold Lloyd’s 1930 film Feet First, you can see dramatic irony in action. While he’s stuck in the sack, he doesn’t know that he’s being hoisted up on scaffolding. The same is true about the cigar that is thrown out a window and later dropped in the man’s hat and the bucket of paint that is knocked off of the scaffolding.

But you only get an effective emotional payout—you only get empathy—when Lloyd and the other characters come to the same realization as you.

Othello is one massive play of dramatic irony. We all know Iago is trying to ruin Othello’s life. Othello has no idea. When he finds out, his life is destroyed and Iago gets his comeuppance. If Othello was just about someone’s life turning to shit, it wouldn’t be a very good play. It’s the emotional journey and Othello’s realization that he’s been duped that make Othello a great tragedy.

If Ivy Walker learned the truth about her asshole parents, flipped them the bird, and wandered out of the village into the real world like Truman Burbank at the end of The Truman Show, it might of worked. Probably not, but it would have been better.

When you get right down to it, it’s hard to get people to like you, especially with all of your flaws, if you’ve only got ninety minutes to do it, and you’re not even a real person. But these tips will point you in the right direction.

A Good Dialogue (Part 2)

Diction is the main component of dialogue, the building blocks if you will. But what are you building?

Lego Fail

(Seriously. What is that?) In part two of my post on dialogue, I’m going to cover some of dialogue’s broader structural challenges.

Originality

Your characters should all sound unique. In part, this is to separate them from the panoply of movie characters who ever have and ever will exist. But it’s also to give your own characters depth and clarity. I can’t tell you the number of scenes I’ve had to re-read because the characters all sound the same, and I couldn’t follow the dialogue. (Wait. Who said what, now?)

It’s not difficult to identify a line of dialogue from Yoda or R2-D2, but the majority of your characters will likely be human. They may even have similar socio-economic backgrounds and come from the same regions. So how do you make them sound different?

Even close friends don’t have the same parents. They don’t have the same siblings. They may have different tastes in food, music, or movies. They may be different ethnicities. All of these differences will affect their diction, which will in turn define them and shape their character. In Stranger Things, Finn, as the main character “everyman,” has the least noteworthy diction. Dustin has a lisp and is more likely to offer some comic relief, Lucas is notably more cautious than his friends, and El’s vocabulary is decidedly limited. The friends have similar backgrounds, ages and interests, but they are different characters with different diction. No matter how similar your characters are, they should always sound at least a little bit different.

Diction is the primary tool that will define your character’s voice. An easy exercise is to pick some common phrase (a reprimand, thank you, greeting, etc.) and figure out how each of your character’s would say it differently. (“Hello.” “Hi.” “Howdy.” “‘Sup.” “Good morning.” “Shut up. Where’s the coffee?”)

Realism

This one’s a little harder. Hamlet does not sound like anyone you’d meet on the street today, but hopefully he sounds like someone from sixteenth century England (or what someone from sixteenth century England thought someone from thirteenth century Denmark sounded like). You get some leeway for writing dialogue for characters from different times or places, but remember my admonition about accents. Don’t overdo it!

Assuming you’re writing a contemporary script or at least want contemporary audiences to understand it, you’ll want to capture contemporary diction. You can wander around with a tape recorder like Carol Solomon from In a World…, but you’ll find that “real” dialogue often doesn’t sound that good.

Another option is to pick a person, whether that’s a fictional character or an actual human that you know, and base your character’s diction on them. Would your mother actually say that? Would Michael Corleone? It’s a reasonable tool, but it, too, involves a lot of research and a strong understanding of your subject’s use of language.

The best thing you can do is read your dialogue out loud. Better yet, have some friends read it. Even better, have some actors read it. Does it flow? Does it make sense? Is it engaging? Does it sound authentic to the characters? If not, you’ve got some more work to do. And you may want to consider adding…

Motivation

Bad dialogue is often described as “wooden.” It lacks emotion (which may be the actor’s fault), but it also lacks motivation (which is completely the writer’s fault). Lines like “Hi, how are you?” “I’m fine,” are boring! They don’t progress the plot. In Save the Cat, Blake Snyder calls these lines “hi how are you I’m fine” lines. It really emphasizes the total waste of space and time that they are.

In this penultimate example of bad dialogue from The Room, Johnny buys some flowers.

Then he proceeds to threaten Lord Royce. But he never actually threatens Lord Royce. Nor does Lord Royce threaten him back, merely saying that a hypothetical man may “cross swords” with another hypothetical man. Yet everyone in the scene knows what’s really happening. The soldiers all reach for their swords and the Lord of the Vale suggests his favorite form of execution: the “moon door.” Littlefinger could have said, “You betrayed me, Lord Royce. Lord of the Vale, should we execute him?” But he doesn’t. That wouldn’t have any subtext, and it wouldn’t make a very good scene.

The movie Hot Rod hilariously flips subtext on it’s head, making Rod Kimble abundantly aware of his inner feelings, shortcomings and completely ridiculous goals. “One day I’ll punch you right in the face, and then you’ll respect me.” Great comedy, terrible subtext.

Craft

Ultimately, crafting great dialogue is an artistic endeavor. It involves a lot of listening, careful word choice, research, and revision. But it’s not a mystery. These last two posts are intended to give you the tools necessary to break down and analyze dialogue. Now if you hear something that is “wooden” or “on the nose,” you know what that means, and, more importantly, you can craft it into something beautiful.

A Good Dialogue (Part 1)

Most screenwriting books and teachers put their effort into story and structure. And rightly so. Story is the heart of the beast. But what if you have a fantastic story and terrible, wooden dialogue? My next two posts aim to give you some tools for understanding and crafting great dialogue. To start, I’m tackling the most important and least understood facet of dialogue: diction.

What is diction?

Simply explained, diction is how someone speaks. Like a fingerprint, everyone has unique diction. Here are three obvious examples.

“Went to Wharton, was a good student, went there, went there, did this, built a fortune—you know I have to give my like credentials all the time because we’re a little disadvantaged—but you look at the nuclear deal, the thing that really bothers me—it would have been so easy, and it’s not as important as these lives are (nuclear is powerful; my uncle explained that to me many, many years ago, the power and that was thirty-five years ago…”

“I have of late—but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises, and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air—look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire—why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors.”

“I’m not saying I invented the turtleneck, but I was the first person to realize its potential as a tactical garment. The tactical turtleneck! The… tactleneck.”

The answers are, of course, the always rambling and frequently incoherent 45^th President of the United States, Shakespeare (specifically Hamlet), and Sterling Archer.

Hamlet_2592704c

You’re never going to confuse Trump for Shakespeare or Shakespeare for Archer, but what are the components of diction? How do you give your characters unique, memorable voices? How do you complete a logical syllogism? Read on.

Syntax

Syntax is the structure of sentences. Long? Short? Proper? Inquisitive? Rambling? Take our fearless (clueless?) leader, for example. He generally speaks in rambling, vocabulary-challenged, run-on sentences. The first part of his quote has no subject (Who went to Wharton? Who was a good student?), is repetitive (Went to Wharton…went there, went there), and quickly jumps into a non-sequitur (Are we talking about Wharton or nuclear power?).

Hamlet, too, is a bit long-winded, but he does form a complete thought with subjects, verbs, objects, and the whole English 101 tool-kit. He’s speaking about one thing the whole time: his depression (buck up emo boy!) and how the entire world seems like a “foul and pestilent” collection of vapors.

Archer is a bit long winded, too, but only has one compound sentence. Then he has a sentence fragment, and for the final punch line, one word. His entire quotation is a setup for one joke. He also starts from a defensive position (“I’m not saying I invented the turtleneck”)—a place Archer frequently finds himself—and turns his misfortune into an opportunity—“The… tackleneck.”

An English teacher would probably yell at you if you wrote anything like any of these “characters.” That’s not the point. A character’s syntax doesn’t need to be “proper” or “correct,” but it does need to be consistent. As you analyze the sentence structure of real people or well-written characters, you’ll pick up on the unique things that create their individual syntax.

Now syntax can get tricky. When people are excited or angry, for example, they tend to speak in shorter sentences. A character giving a formal presentation will sound different than the same character drinking with her girlfriends at happy hour. But these differences show the depth of the character and your writing ability. Your job, as a writer, is to be sure that your character can encompass both voices.

Word Choice

Trump, of course, has “the best words.” An English professor may have an “exhaustive vocabulary.” A foreigner may have, “How do you say, limited talking options?” The point is, their word choice defines their character. Their background, level of education, job (think technical lingo), and age all affect word choice.

In the quotes I provided, Hamlet and Archer both make up words. Hamlet, who uses the phrases “pestilent congregation” and “ sterile promontory” struggles to describe the heavens, inventing the rather grand, but superfluous adjective “majestical.” Archer, however, invents a cheeky portmanteau for tactical and turtleneck: “tacktleneck.” Reeking of consumerism and brand identity, it’s in a decidedly different category than “majestical,” but totally in line with Archer’s character.

Word choice is pretty simple. Pull out the ol’ thesaurus to find just the right word for the occasion. And don’t limit yourself to nouns! Stephen King hates adverbs. Want a character to sound like Stephen King? Never give them an adverb. Use action verbs instead of “is.” “Is” is the most boring verb in English, yet most people will say, “I am running late.” Shankar, an aloof supervisor in my script Out of Time, would say, “I will not arrive on time.” He also refuses to contract words. “Can’t” won’t ever come out of his mouth.

Idiom

Idioms are the specific phrases and constructions unique to your character. What are the things that your character would say that no one else would even think of?

In the narrowest sense, this can include catchphrases: “Did I do that?” “Phrasing!” “Winter is coming.” “Wubba lubba dub dub!”

wubba lubba dub dub

But idioms are not restricted to specific phrases. The Brain, from Pinky and the Brain, had a handful of classic catchphrases, notably, “The same thing we do every night, Pinky, try to take over the world,” and “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Pinky’s responses, however, varied wildly. “I think so, Brain, but Zero Mostel times anything will still give you Zero Mostel.” “I think so, Brain, but wouldn’t anything lose its flavor on the bedpost overnight?” “I think so, Brain, but then it would be Snow White and the Seven Samurai…” Although the specifics change, the shtick, taken as a whole, is part of Pinky and the Brain’s idiom.

In a broader sense, idioms are about style. Woody Allen and the late Don Rickles are both great comics with decidedly different styles. Woody Allen’s humor is always self deprecating. “Most of the time I don’t have much fun. The rest of the time I don’t have any fun at all.” Don Rickles, however, was always going after the other guy. “Who picks your clothes – Stevie Wonder?”

Trump is always talking about himself. Hamlet is full of angst and woe. He’s educated and playful, but one can never be sure if he’s serious. (One of the biggest questions about Hamlet to this day is whether he was actually crazy or merely pretending to be crazy.) Archer is also educated and playful. But he’s been educated in tactical weaponry not Greek mythology. His playfulness, which leans heavily on the sexual side, lacks Hamlet’s archaic language and moral ponderings.

Your characters, too, must present themselves in a particular way. Samwell Tarly, from Game of Thrones, can barely stutter through introducing himself. Danaerys Targaryen, however, has no issue going through that whole “Mother of Dragons…Breaker of Chains…” spiel. Darth Vader does not tell jokes. Kimmy Schmidt from the Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt will never let you down. Everybody has their own style, their own linguistic toolbox to fall on that defines them as a person.

Accents

Accents certainly define a person’s background. They can be a great source of comedy or drama.

french knight “I’m French. Why do you think I have this outrageous accent?”

If you remember Jaguar’s 2015 Superbowl commercial, “All the villains are played by Brits. Maybe [they] just sound right.” And Frank Underwood from House of Cards has that down home, aw shucks, drawl that creeps into his voice whenever he’s speaking to the press. But it’s noticeably absent when he turns the screws on an uncooperative congressman. He drops the accent to chilling effect.

Don’t overdo accents in your writing! In Angela’s Ashes, the world’s most depressingly hilarious memoir, Frank McCourt perfects writing the accent. You’re not Frank McCourt. Don’t be a fecking eejit and overdo it. Your script may benefit from a “lobstah” or “verevolf” here or there, but frankly it’s difficult and annoying “readin’ lang passages ay text in some a bampot brogue.” Furthermore, word choices (howdy vs. hello, car park vs. parking lot, danke vs. thank you) will suggest an accent without getting overbearing.

So what?

Diction is more than a party trick. Smalls instigates the climax of The Sandlot (and reconfirms his general cluelessness) by mistaking Babe Ruth for “Some lady named Ruth.” Lieutenant MacDonald is killed in The Great Escape when he says “Thank you” in English to the Gestapo agent. Although only specifically addressed at the end, The Artist, a silent film, was about George Valentin’s inability to overcome his accent. And, of course, My Fair Lady is an entire musical about diction.

Diction may not play a critical part in your story, but it will help you craft unique, memorable characters. Character is defined by action, but choosing to speak is an action that cannot be undone. So when you give dialogue to your characters, pull out the old thesaurus and choose your words carefully… or wisely… or discreetly… or

eric idle

Whatever’s right for their own particular idiom.

P.S. In case you missed that last reference, here’s the whole clip from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It’s 6:20 in.

TAXES FOR FREELANCERS

Like all forms of employment, freelancing has perks and shortcomings. But without a doubt, filing your taxes as a freelancer is one of the most obnoxious and time consuming ordeals you’ll have to deal with. I hate filing taxes so much, I made a video about them last year. (President Obama did write me back, but he never paid the invoice…) The point is, never have I ever—not even in TVF 361: Working in Film as a Freelancer—received any education about filing taxes as a freelancer. So if you do plan on going down this dark and terrifying path, I’d like to give you some pointers.

DISCLAIMER: I am not a tax expert. Anything you learn from this article is for informational purposes only. Do your own research and consult with a tax professional for your own specific tax situation.

OVERVIEW

If you earn money, you pay taxes. You generally owe taxes to 3 governmental agencies: the federal government (IRS), the state government (in my case the Pennsylvania Department of Revenue), and your local city, town, borough, hovel, whatever. Usually, your employer takes these taxes out of every paycheck. That’s why when you received your first job in high school, you were shocked to find out how little money you actually took home.

SMALL PAYCHECK

However, even if your employer doesn’t take this money out, you still owe taxes! At some point, someone’s going to come looking for that money. It’s up to you to make sure you’re paying the right amount of money on time. Keeping detailed records is the name of the game.

As a freelancer, you’ll have 2 basic kinds of employers: W-2 and 1099. Both are named after the tax forms you receive at the end of the year.

W-2

When it comes to taxes, W-2 jobs are a little bit easier. These are the jobs where the taxes are taken out for you. In the biz, they are also called timecard or payroll jobs. These are the kinds of employers that most of your relatives and friends with “real” jobs have. For us, things are a little confusing.

The thing is, most production companies don’t want to pay for accountants. They use payroll companies to take care of their paperwork. CAPS, Entertainment Partners, and Cast and Crew are three of the big ones. So even though you work for Mom & Pop Productions, The Josés Film Co., and Hollywood South, LLC, you might get W-2s from CAPS, Entertainment Partners, and Cast and Crew. To make it even more confusing, Mom & Pop and The Josés may use the same payroll company. Then every job you did for both of those companies will appear on the same W-2. (Last year, which was a slow year for me, I worked for 17 different companies and received 6 different W-2s.)

1099

If your employer just hands you cash or a check, this is called 1099 or invoice work. Generally, you’ll have to send the company an invoice, and then they’ll send you a check. This check will be for the full amount of the job. (If you invoiced them for $250, you’ll receive a check for $250.) Even though your employer didn’t take taxes out of your paycheck, you still owe taxes!

QUARTERLY PAYMENTS

You may think tax season is early April, but for freelancers, it’s always tax season. The thing is, you owe taxes as you earn money, not at the end of the year. For W-2 work, those taxes are taken out every paycheck, and you’re golden. But for the 1099 work, you need to estimate how much money you’ll make and send out those estimated payments quarterly. (Remember, you owe federal, state, and local taxes.)

The four payment dates this year are April 18^th, June 15^th, September 15^th, and January 15^th. The perplexing thing is that quarter two is 3 months long while quarter four is 5 months long. Clearly no one at the IRS had my mother for math, since “quarter” implies four equal parts, but I digress.

unequal quarters

Your estimated payments aren’t what you will actually owe because your tax rate is based on what you earn, and on April 18^th, no freelancer I know has any idea how much money they’ll earn in the next eight months. There’s a lengthy form to help you estimate your quarterly payments (which I have found utterly useless) called the 1040-ES. I’ve included a link to it below.

FILING YOUR TAXES

If you haven’t had enough fun yet, there’s tax day! When you “file” your taxes, you’re squaring away all of those uncertainties you’d had from the previous year. You find out what you actually earned, deduct what you can, and end up with your Adjusted Gross Income (AGI). Some people use accountants or tax professionals. Most tax professionals charge more as things get more complex. Since I didn’t make much money when I started in this business, I began filing my own taxes with the help of TurboTax. So far, so good.

For the most part, you just enter all of the data from your W-2s and 1099s. Remember to report income even if you didn’t receive a 1099. (Keep in mind, Al Capone was ultimately arrested for tax evasion, not murder.) And remember to report those quarterly payments you made. The software will do the rest.

DEDUCTIONS

Everybody is allowed to take a variety of personal deductions. Charitable donations, student loans, and mortgage interest come to mind. Many people will take the standard deduction because it’s easier and often bigger than an itemized deduction. But as a freelancer, you also have unreimbursed business expenses. Even if you take the standard personal deduction, you have plenty of additional business deductions.

These deductions may include, clothing, food, work tools, mileage, and even your house. There are rules and regulations for each thing, but a general rule of thumb is, if you use it exclusively for work, it’s deductible. I’m writing this from my home office, where I do all of my paperwork. I could potentially deduct the utilities for this room, but I use it for a guest room as well. Sadly, no deduction for this one. But that rain gear I bought exclusively for set? Deducted. Flashlight, surveillance headset, and Leatherman? Deducted. That Box of Joe I bought for the locations department to ensure I had good parking on the last shoot? Deducted. Make sure you save those receipts!

Mileage can also be deducted, whether that’s driving to another state for a job or running out to pick up lunch for the crew. As with all of these things, however, you need to keep detailed records.

And of course, if your employer reimburses you for any of these expenses, you cannot deduct them.

STATE AND LOCAL

Generally speaking, state and local taxes operate similarly to federal taxes. There are slightly different rules for each, so you’ll have to do your own research on that one. But here’s one small positive; programs like TurboTax have software for states, and most of the information transfers seamlessly from federal to state forms. One caveat, if you work outside the state where you live, you may need to file taxes in both states.

Local taxes are generally the easiest. You’ll simply need to transfer numbers from your federal or state tax form onto your local tax form. Unfortunately, W-2 employers will deduct local taxes from where you work, not where you live. It may take a bit of arithmetic to figure out what, if anything, you owe your local government. (For example, my borough has a 1% tax rate, but if I work in Philadelphia, Philadelphia takes 3.5% of my paycheck. I’m never going to see that 2.5% again. However, I can use it to offset the taxes I owe to my home borough from my 1099 work.)

DEATH AND TAXES

Taxes suck no matter who you are. But if you plan to make this filmmaking thing work, they’re one more unforeseen hurdle you have to jump over. The most important thing is to keep detailed records and save paperwork. And speaking of paperwork… below are links to some of the forms you’ll encounter in your illustrious career. Check them out so you know what you’re looking at.

Finally, I’d like to reiterate that I am not a tax professional. If anyone who reads this post has other thoughts and comments, feel free to reach out or respond.

PAPERWORK

W-4

When doing W-2 work, the W-4 tells your employer what to withhold in taxes. You’ll receive this on set either when you’re hired or when you fill out your timecard. There’s an obnoxious worksheet to calculate how many allowances to claim (probably 1 or 0). If you claim 0, your employer will withhold more taxes, which means you’ll likely get a refund at the end of the year, but see less money in your paychecks.

I-9

When doing W-2 work, the I-9 verifies that you are allowed to work in the U.S. Most people only fill out a handful of these in their lives. You, however, have to fill one out every year for every employer. That is why I have my driver’s license number memorized. However, if you work for a new company, you’ll want to be sure to bring your 2 forms of I.D. (Click on the second link on the USCIS website to view the form.)

Timecard

Here is a blank, sample timecard from CAPS. Generally, you’ll only fill out your personal information and the hours you worked. Your production manager will help you with any questions.

W-2

You’ll receive this in January or February. It shows how much money you earned, what you paid in taxes, what you paid for Social Security, Medicare, state, and local taxes, etc. from the previous year. It’s very easy to transfer this information into a program like TurboTax. (This W2 is blank. Yours should come with numbers on it!)

W-9

This is identity verification for a 1099 job. (I-9 is to W-2 as W-9 is to 1099… where’s 3 through 8 in all of this?) Generally, you’ll need to send production one of these when you send them your invoice. Unless you are incorporated as a business, check the box that says “individual/sole proprietor” and fill in your social security number.

1099

This is what you get at the end of the year for your 1099 jobs. As with the W-2, it’s very easy to enter the information from this into a program like TurboTax. (And again, yours should come with numbers on it!)

Invoice

I’d say this is where you can flex your creativity because you get to make your own invoice, but that would probably just annoy your production manager. Generally, you just need your contact info, the company’s contact info, the job name and number, and days and hours worked. This is what I use. It’s not pretty, but I always get paid (except for the one I sent to Obama…).

1040-ES

This is the monstrosity that “helps” you estimate your quarterly taxes. In the least it shows you what is legally required and gives you a place to write down when you sent the money in.

Dressing for Success on Set

A coworker of mine was going camping once and (since I’m an Eagle Scout) he asked me what he should wear. “Well,” I told him, “just pretend you’re going to work.” When you show up to set, you need to be ready for everything, and nothing will get you through a sixteen hour day better than your own comfort. So working from ground up, here’s my fashion advice. (Even if you’re supposed to stay in the office, you’ll be surprised at the number of times you end up in a muddy field to deliver paperwork.)

SHOES

Wear comfortable, closed toe shoes. You’ll be on your feet most of the time, and you don’t want your little piggies run over by a dolly. Steel toes aren’t really necessary unless you’re building or striking something (Art Department, Grip). You’ll also want a good pair of waterproof hiking boots in your wardrobe for the non-metaphorical quagmire you’ll end up in someday. I’d also recommend a pair of NEOS. This is a shoe that goes over your shoe for filming in a torrential downpour/snow bank, etc.

PRO TIP: A boom operator I work with always brings a second pair of shoes and socks to set. He changes them at lunch. You’d be amazed at the difference this makes in the afternoon.

PANTS

This one’s pretty simple. Wear sturdy, weather appropriate pants that facilitate a belt. No skirts or dresses (or kilts, Sean!). I know cargo pants/shorts aren’t high fashion, but if you’re behind the camera, no one cares. When you’ve got batteries, a water bottle, pens, markers, cell phone, phone charger, call sheets, schedules, your wallet, three sets of keys, sunglasses, a walkie talkie, work gloves, a Leatherman, and a flashlight on you, the extra pockets come in handy.

BELT

Wear a belt. With all of the stuff in your pockets, your pants will fall down. Some people with even more stuff (crescent wrench, screwdriver, tape measure, volt meter, range finder, etc.) go so far as to wear two belts or a pouch. Hopefully, you won’t need that on your first day, and you’ll have some time to shop around before you do.

SHIRT

A little personality in your wardrobe is fine, but try not to offend anyone. Remember this shirt from How to Lose Friends and Alienate People?

how-to-lose-friends

T-shirts are the norm. Button down shirts are fine. Ties (or dangling jewelry) are a no. (They’re actually a safety hazard.) Generally, you’ll want to avoid bright colors and large logos. You never know if you’ll be hiding in the background of a shot, and you don’t want to stand out. (On the other hand, I hate being on camera and may have occasionally worn bright colors to set specifically to avoid pulling background duty. I don’t know that this endeared me to anyone, however.) People who are required to be on set (camera operators, assistant cameramen, boom operators) often have a completely black wardrobe on standby to avoid being seen in reflections of cars, windows, pictures frames, etc. If they don’t, the grips will make them a robe of duvetyne, which is always good for a laugh.

GLOVES

Depending on the size of the shoot, you may be asked to pick up cable, lay down floor protection, or move set pieces. A cheap pair of leather work gloves (usually around $10) goes a long way. You may see grips wearing fancy, form fitting work gloves, but I’m not a fan. For one thing, they take too long to put on and take off. But they’re also expensive. On that special day when you gloves get completely covered in fish guts, dog shit, or motor oil, you don’t feel so bad chucking $10 gloves. (And yes… all of that has happened to me.)

HEADGEAR

Not a requirement, but if you’re filming outside all day, sunglasses and hat will make you much, much happier. Don’t be afraid to pull out a crazy straw hat or cowboy hat when you’re filming in the middle of an open field. Yes, it may look silly, but people will recognize that you’re someone who thinks ahead and comes prepared.

RAIN GEAR

Buy a waterproof coat and pants. Nicer gear can be a little expensive, but it is tax deductible. ALWAYS BRING YOUR RAIN GEAR TO SET!!! Even if there’s a zero percent chance of it raining, you may end up blocking off a street corner while the art department wets down the street. You’ll be a lot happier throwing on your NEOS and rain pants than walking around in wet socks all day.

And speaking of that…

EXTRA CLOTHES

It’s not a bad idea to have a change of clothes in your car. You may fall into a creek (happened to me), have coffee spilled on you (happens to me regularly), fall down a muddy hill (heard about it), set your jacket on fire (seen it happen surprisingly often), or just perspire a lot. A friend of mine actually texted me this hilarious mishap from a commercial set earlier today.

art-pants

In any event, it’s a lot easier to change your clothes and get on with your day than be miserable for the next ten hours. I’d also point out that anything you wear to set has a high probability of getting ruined. It will definitely get dirty.

LAYERING

If you follow me on twitter (@PremiseAmiss) you’ll know I was recently rigging a car in twenty-five degree weather. Everyone tolerates the cold differently, (Two of my coworkers wear shorts in well below freezing temperatures.) but layers are the easiest way to deal with it. A long sleeve T-shirt, vest, and fleece will treat you a lot better than a halter top and ski jacket. Part of it is thermodynamics. But it also just gives you more options.

Going to spend two hours outside? Put all the layers on. Babysitting holding? Take all the layers off. Running in and out? Keep the vest on, but lose the fleece. Sweatshirts with a full zipper (as compared to pullovers) will also make your life easier.

Don’t forget to layer your legs! Long johns make a world of difference. For those really frigid days, go wool. Wool socks retain heat even when they’re wet. Or if you’re working in the 30-40 degree range, try some knee high socks. They’re a little easier to take off than long johns if it starts to warm up.

BUT I’M GOING TO LOOK LIKE SURVIVORMAN!

Yes. Yes, you will. In fact, you’ll probably want to shove a bunch of this stuff in a back pack and bring that to set, too. It may seem excessive, but you’ll be prepared and comfortable for whatever comes up. As an added bonus, you’ll look like everyone else, and you might just fool them into thinking you’ve done this before. After all, isn’t that what dressing for success is all about?

The Pope in the Pool

I just watched The Big Short last night. It’s a good film with some incredible acting and editing. It’s unique in how it blends drama and documentary—a feat that required breaking many of “the rules.” Despite that, it had a consistent style, which made it work.

But let’s be honest, a film about credit default swaps has a lot of explaining to do. For that they used Blake Snyder’s trick—mentioned in my last post—called the Pope in the Pool.

If you haven’t read it yet, I’m going to recommend again that you read Save the Cat. But to briefly sum up, when a script has to cover exposition (those boring plot points that you need to explain to the audience even though the characters already know what’s going on) you can distract your audience with something visually interesting.

In Snyder’s case, the Pope is swimming in his pool while receiving a security briefing. You’re so mesmerized seeing the Pope in a bathing suit swimming in the Vatican pool, you barely even notice the bone dry dialogue. (Hence, Pope in the Pool.)

The Big Short has three clear—dare I say gratuitous—examples. The first is the scene with Margot Robbie (a nice nod to The Wolf of Wall Street), then there’s Anthony Bourdain, and finally Selena Gomez with Dr. Richard Thaler.

The latter two examples work very well. Anthony Bourdain making soup out of his unsold fish was a visual example of how banks were repackaging securities to make CDOs. The line of betting at the blackjack table with Selena Gomez created a visual example of how investors would bet on CDOs to create synthetic CDOs.

Margot Robbie’s scene doesn’t work quite as well because there’s no visual correlation between what she’s doing (drinking champagne in a tub) and what she’s explaining (sub-prime loans). Had she been paying for the champagne, it may have worked better.

In many ways, the whole movie is an example of “Pope in the Pool.” It was dramatizing some dull, heady banking practices. It’s a shame this movie couldn’t have existed before the financial crash because people may have better understood the crisis they were creating. (This is one of the reasons people love science fiction. It prophesies what could happen if we don’t change our ways.) In any event, it’s a great example of how something boring and difficult to understand can connect to audiences in a meaningful way through effective filmmaking and visual storytelling.