Rewriting - sequence and act bridges

by Alexandra Sokoloff 

I don’t know what it is, but my family’s Christmas gatherings always seem to  involve aliens in some way. Possibly stems from all those years we spent road-tripping on (the former) Route 66. 

This year it was watching CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND (again).

I haven’t seen the film in a while and it turns out to be a great example of a concept I’m always trying to get across to this college film class I’m teaching: act and sequence transitions. To get across the idea of the Three-Act, Eight Sequence structure, I show them films to illustrate that accomplished filmmakers often use a recurring image or device to indicate the end of one sequence and the beginning of another (not always for every sequence, but VERY frequently for the transitions between the four acts). 

Since my New Year is all about rewriting, two different projects, I wanted to talk about some examples today and hopefully get some from you all.

Some are very obvious, like:

- The still shots of wedding invitations that set up each act of FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL

 - The six stages of a con that set up the sequences of THE STING: The Set-Up, The Hook, The Take, The Wire, The Shut-Out and The Sting ... and which are delineated by still paintings on title cards.  (Yes, that’s just six – the first sequence is the incident that compels Hooker to want to do the long con to begin with, and the eighth is the wrap-up.)

- The old newsreel-style shots of the map of the globe with the superimposed plane flying and the red line marking the journey and the sequence transitions in RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK.

Others are more subtle but easy to spot if you train yourself to look, like:

- The long overhead shots of Jamie Foxx’s cab cruising through the streets of L.A. between each sequence of COLLATERAL. (There are similar long shots of the spaceship Nostromo gliding silently through the vast emptiness of space that mark the sequence breaks in the first ALIEN)

- The shots of seasons (fall, winter, spring) and specific holiday decorations in the Great Hall that delineate the sequences and acts in HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER’S STONE.

- Another film I just love, THE PRINCESS BRIDE, cuts away from the main story of Westley and Buttercup to the framing story of the grandfather reading the book to his grandson at each sequence and act break - slyly demonstrating the power of cliffhangers.

- And in CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, after the climax of each sequence, there is a cut to a short scene of the team of scientists, led by a mouth-watering François Truffaut (just saying) racing to yet another spot on the globe to investigate another UFO sighting.  These scenes appear every fifteen minutes like clockwork – not as blatant as still shots and title cards, but equally effective as the demarcation between sequences and acts.

Personally, I just love how these bridges, or markers, or transitions, or whatever you feel like calling them, create a symmetry and forward momentum to a story. It signals an audience that the story is moving into a different phase, and gives the audience a chance to take a breath and mentally prepare, even for a second, for the next stage of the journey.

I think it’s really useful to train yourself to look for how your favorite storytellers might be using these transitions, on screen and on the page. It will get you thinking about how you might use some kind of bridge scene yourself. It’s not that you HAVE to do it, not at all!  But maybe there’s a hint of some perfect recurring transition scene already in your first draft that you can build on to create a whole series of transitions that will give your story that perfect symmetry and momentum.  Something to think about!

In novels, one of the most obvious act bridges is dividing your book into Part I, Part II, and Part III.   Sounds simplistic but it really works to give the reader a breath and a moment to reflect before starting a new action. Another common bridge is to write sequences from different characters' points of view (my favorite example being Barbara Kingsolver's POISONWOOD BIBLE.

So do you have any examples for me?

And Happy New Year to everyone!  May all your writing dreams come true this year.

- Alex

NOTHING TO SEE HERE, MOVE ALONG...

 

by Stephen Jay Schwartz

My Wild Card Tuesday interview with film director Kevin Lewis this week emphasized the fact that a screenwriter more often than not has to rewrite his work based on elements completely out of his control. Like new story comments provided by the myriad of producers involved in a project, or the actors, or the director, or financiers. A character becomes young or old and changes race or sex depending on what actor receives the submission, and that often depends on the relationships the producers have with the kind of talent that can green-light a film.

A screenwriter has to be prepared to work in a new idea at a moment's notice, and that means tossing out previous story points that don't gel organically with the new material. Often, to make a new idea work, old ideas must be excised. Completely. A favorite scene or piece of dialogue suddenly doesn't belong, and it's not going to belong, no matter how you try to justify it. When you leave these bits of tissue on the bone you create a Frankenstein from the cannibalized parts of incompatible monsters.

But this isn't restricted to screenwriting alone. We go through the same process with our novels. Sometimes we get into the last third of our book and realize that a major plot point doesn't work. We have to establish something new and rework it, thread-by-thread, from the very beginning. And we know what needs to be done. We might not want to toss the good stuff, but the fact is, it's no longer relevant. Sometimes, as they say, we have "to kill our babies."

Sure, we can fool ourselves for a while. As long as the manuscript stays in our hands, we can assume it's perfect. That's why we need trusted readers to tell us the truth. People who aren't tied to previous incarnations of the story. People who can say, "Why did your character do or say THAT?" If our answer is something like, "Well, you see, in an earlier draft I had this hot air balloon fall on his house, and I liked the way he always looked for things to fall from the sky after that, and..." then you know you're holding onto something that has no place in the new story you've chosen to tell.

Of course, if you really love something and can find a way to work it in organically, go for it. But, more often than not, it's a brush-stroke meant for a painting that doesn't exist.

I'm thinking about these things because I'm doing another pass on GRINDER, probably the final pass before the script goes back to actors. This draft addresses feedback we've received about elements that make the story confusing to the reader. And there is one fundamental story point that I've always loved, but it has managed to polarize the people who champion the project. There's a change I've wanted to avoid making, but now that the success of the project hangs in the balance, I've had to find a way to make the change in a way that benefits the story. And what I've discovered in the process is that the new change strengthens the story's themes and helps create a stronger resolution.

Once the decision was made, it became necessary for me to put the old subplot out of my head. Eliminate it from my thoughts. The director--Kevin--and I both loved the old subplot, but we also see the need to sacrifice it for the greater good of the story. The only thing left for us to do was to accept our loss and MOVE ON. Because what's ahead is actually better, as long as we don't try to force old story elements into the new idea. I've done that before with GRINDER, incorporating scenes from previous drafts, scenes that everyone liked and wanted to see realized, and it didn't work. Each major rewrite required that I reinvent the story, and, in doing so, old scenes had to be tossed. And only then did the script begin to take shape.

What's great is that the story is strong enough to adjust to the changes. The new ideas don't deter from the story's themes, but strengthen them. Stripping out the previous subplot helped identify a larger problem, and the new ideas helped solve it.

It's amazing how things really aren't done until they're done. It's true, I jump through fewer hoops when I'm writing novels. But that's not necessarily a good thing. GRINDER has benefited from the many eyes that have scanned its pages. But my willingness to listen, borne from years of receiving project notes on dozens of writing projects, combined with my experience on the other side, as a development executive, is the key element that keeps me attached to the project on the one hand, and helps me to improve it, on the other.

In the end, the reader/viewer won't miss the missing scenes. They don't know what existed before. What they'll see is a finished product, and it will either work or it won't.

So, there's really nothing to see here. Best just to move along...

Rewriting v. Editing

by Alafair Burke

I just finished a book.

I've been in a position to use that glorious sentence eight times.  The first seven times, I spoke the sentence immediately after typing the final period on the final page.  I even typed THE END to mark the moment. 

Did that mean I was completely done with my work on the book?  Of course not.  My agent and editor needed to read it.  I would listen to their good feedback.  I would make changes, some of them big.  The book would be better for it.  And then we'd do another pass.  And then copyediting.  But that's all editing.  The book was "finished," as I use that word. 

Book eight?  I typed an ending a month ago, but, for the first time, I didn't type THE END.  I didn't say, "I just finished a book." Instead, I paused a moment to celebrate having a beginning, middle, and an end.  I may even have had a drink or two.

One of each, please!

Then I opened a new, blank document on my computer and started again from the beginning. 

Yep, I rewrote my book. 

Now, a month later, I'm willing to say I finished.  I even typed THE END.  The celebratory drinks made those first ones look like amateur hour.

Having to reach an ending twice before typing THE END got me to thinking about what made this time different. 

1.  Why wasn't the first ending the finish line? 

At a spotlight interview during last year's Bouchercon, Gregg Hurwitz asked Michael Connelly if he had any publishing regrets.  After initially saying no, Michael backed up and said he wished he had submitted his first novel earlier.  It was done, but he kept tinkering and refining on his own for nearly three years.

Little did he know as an unpublished writer that the book would get even better with an editor.  By Michael's calculation, if he'd sent the book out earlier, he would have benefitted from an editor's feedback sooner, and he could have started his second book instead of working on his own for all that time.  The world might have an additional Connelly novel or two as a result.

His observation made me think about my own process.  I don't generally tinker and refine on my own.  I type THE END and send it away.  But I've been able to do that because I force myself to get it right -- or at least my own best version of right -- the very first time.  I nitpick at myself constantly during the first (and only) draft.

For this book, I decided to let all that go.  I made myself write, even when I knew a certain scene or a certain plot twist wasn't exactly right.  It's not a process I would have been comfortable with seven books ago, but I've learned by now that that finishing sooner is better than finishing later.  I've seen for myself -- seven previous times -- how much better a book can be once you finish that first pass of editing.  Plus I heard Michael Connelly say it, so it must be true!

But changing my objective from finishing my very best draft to simply finishing a draft necessarily changed how I felt about "finishing."  All I could say was that I had a beginning, middle, and an end.  I couldn't really say I had finished the book.  I couldn't type THE END. 

2.  Why I Called it a Re-Write

In my previous seven edits, I made some pretty big changes.  But I made those changes directly to the document.  I cut and pasted if I switched the order of two scenes.  I added chapters.  I deleted entire pages. Overall, however, the narrative arc of the plot and characters remained intact.

This time, I decided that an "edit" -- even a big edit -- would not suffice.  I wanted to start with a blank document.  I wanted to revisit every decision I had made the first time around.  I would reimagine the book with more information than I had all those months ago.  I'd pull over scenes, character, words, sentences, paragraphs, and entire chapters only as helpful.  I'd skip the rest.  I'd write new scenes and characters as I went.

Two characters completely left the page.  One arrived a hundred and fifty pages earlier.  An affair that happened suddenly didn't.

When I reached the ending of this new book, I knew it was better.  I knew I was proud of it.  And I knew I was actually done.  

I'm not certain I'd recommend this process to anyone else.  The messiness of it has me wishing once again that I could outline a book chapter by chapter, scene for scene, prior to writing.  But at least I'm able to say that I have finished my eighth book and am very happy with it.  

THE END

To my fellow writers: Do you rewrite or merely edit?  To the readers: Do you enjoy hearing how the sausage is made, or should writers make it look easier than it sometimes is?

Top Ten Things I Know About Rewriting

by Alexandra Sokoloff

I am in teaching mode (I know, always, right?) because I am teaching this weekend, at the Black Diamond Romance Writers Retreat in gorgeous Sonoma, California. 

I think the best thing anyone can tell a new writer is that old saying, "Writing is rewriting."

Before I started writing novels, I worked as a theater director, a Hollywood story analyst, and a screenwriter. All of those jobs have given me some pretty useful perspectives on rewriting and editing. So I’ve put the best things I know into one of those ever-popular Top Ten lists:

1. Cut, cut, cut.

When you first start writing, you are reluctant to cut anything. Believe me, I remember. But the truth is, beginning writers very, very, VERY often duplicate scenes, and characters, too. And dialogue, oh man, do inexperienced writers duplicate dialogue! The same things happen over and over again, are said over and over again. It will be less painful for you to cut if you learn to look for and start to recognize when you’re duplicating scenes, actions, characters and dialogue. Those are the obvious places to cut and combine.

Some very wise writer (unfortunately I have no idea who) said, “If it occurs to you to cut, do so.” This seems harsh and scary, I know. Often I’ll flag something in a manuscript as “Could cut”, and leave it in my draft for several passes until I finally bite the bullet and get rid of it. So, you know, that’s fine. Allow yourself to CONSIDER cutting something, first. No commitment! Then if you do, fine. But once you’ve considered cutting, you almost always will.

2. Read your book aloud. All of it. Cover to cover.

The best thing I know to do to edit a book — or script — is read it aloud. The whole thing. I know, this takes several days, and you will lose your voice. Get some good cough drops. But there is no better way to find errors — spelling, grammar, continuity, and rhythmic errors. Try it, you’ll be amazed.

3. Find a great critique group.

This is easier said than done, but you NEED a group, or a series of readers, who will commit themselves to making your work the best it can be, just as you commit the same to their work. Editors don’t edit the way they used to and publishing houses expect their authors to find friends to do that kind of intensive editing. Really.

4. Do several passes.

Finish your first draft, no matter how rough it is. Then give yourself a break — a week is good, two weeks is better, three weeks is better than that — as time permits. Then read, cut, polish, put in notes. Repeat. And repeat again. Always give yourself time off between reads if you can. The closer your book is to done, the more uncomfortable the unwieldy sections will seem to you, and you will be more and more okay with getting rid of them. Read on for the specific kinds of passes I recommend doing.

5. Whatever your genre is, do a dedicated pass focusing on that crucial genre element.

For a thriller: thrills and suspense. For a mystery: clues and misdirection and suspense. For a comedy: a comedic pass. For a romance: a sex pass. Or “emotional” pass, if you must call it that. For horror… well, you get it.

I write suspense. So after I’ve written that first agonizing bash-through draft of a book or script, and probably a second or third draft just to make it readable, I will at some point do a dedicated pass just to amp up the suspense, and I highly recommend trying it, because it’s amazing how many great ideas you will come up with for suspense scenes (or comic scenes, or romantic scenes) if you are going through your story JUST focused on how to inject and layer in suspense, or horror, or comedy, or romance. It’s your JOB to deliver the genre you’re writing in. It’s worth a dedicated pass to make sure you’re giving your readers what they’re buying the book for.

6. Know your Three Act Structure.

If something in your story is sagging, it is amazing how quickly you can pull your narrative into line by looking at the scene or sequence you have around page 100 (or whatever page is ¼ way through the book), page 200, (or whatever page is ½ way through the book), page 300 (or whatever page is ¾ through the book) and your climax. Each of those scenes should be huge, pivotal, devastating, game-changing scenes or sequences (even if it’s just emotional devastation). Those four points are the tentpoles of your story.

7. Do a dedicated DESIRE LINE pass in which you ask yourself for every scene: “What does this character WANT? Who is opposing her/him in this scene? Who WINS in the scene? What will they do now?”

8. Do a dedicated EMOTIONAL pass, in which you ask yourself in every chapter, every scene, what do I want my readers to FEEL in this moment?

9. Do a dedicated SENSORY pass, in which you make sure you’re covering what you want the reader to see, hear, feel, taste, smell, and sense.

10. Finally, and this is a big one: steal from film structure to pull your story into dramatic line.

Some of you are already well aware that I’ve compiled a checklist of story elements that I use both when I’m brainstorming a story on index cards, and again when I’m starting to revise. I find it invaluable to go through my first draft and make sure I’m hitting all of these points, so here it is again.



STORY ELEMENTS CHECKLIST

ACT ONE


* Opening image
* Meet the hero or heroine
* Hero/ine’s inner and outer desire.
* Hero/ine’s arc
* Hero/ine's ghost or wound
* Inciting Incident/Call to Adventure
* Meet the antagonist (and/or introduce a mystery, which is what you do when you’re going to keep your antagonist hidden to reveal at the end)
* State the theme/what’s the story about?
* Allies
* Mentor (possibly. May not have one or may be revealed later in the story).
* Love interest
* Plant/Reveal (or: Setups and Payoffs)
* Hope/Fear (and Stakes)
* Time Clock (possibly. May not have one or may be revealed later in the story)
* Sequence One climax
* Central Question
* Act One climax

___________________________

ACT TWO


* Crossing the Threshold/ Into the Special World (may occur in Act One)
* Threshold Guardian (maybe)
* Hero/ine’s Plan
* Antagonist’s Plan
* Training Sequence
* Series of Tests
* Picking up new Allies
* Assembling the Team
* Attacks by the Antagonist (whether or not the Hero/ine recognizes these as being from the antagonist)
* In a detective story, questioning witnesses, lining up and eliminating suspects, following clues.


THE MIDPOINT


* Completely changes the game
* Locks the hero/ine into a situation or action
* Can be a huge revelation
* Can be a huge defeat
* Can be a “now it’s personal” loss
* Can be sex at 60 — the lovers finally get together, only to open up a whole new world of problems


______________________________
ACT TWO, PART TWO


* Recalibrating — after the shock or defeat of the game-changer in the Midpoint, the hero/ine must Revamp The Plan and try a New Mode of Attack.
* Escalating Actions/ Obsessive Drive
* Hard Choices and Crossing The Line (immoral actions by the main character to get what s/he wants)
* Loss of Key Allies (possibly because of the hero/ine’s obsessive actions, possibly through death or injury by the antagonist).
* A Ticking Clock (can happen anywhere in the story)
* Reversals and Revelations/Twists. (Hmm, that clearly should have its own post, now, shouldn't it?)
* The Long Dark Night of the Soul and/or Visit to Death (aka All Is Lost)

THE SECOND ACT CLIMAX


* Often can be a final revelation before the end game: the knowledge of who the opponent really is
* Answers the Central Question


_______________________________

ACT THREE

The third act is basically the Final Battle and Resolution. It can often be one continuous sequence — the chase and confrontation, or confrontation and chase. There may be a final preparation for battle, or it might be done on the fly. Either here or in the last part of the second act the hero will make a new, FINAL PLAN, based on the new information and revelations of the second act.

The essence of a third act is the final showdown between protagonist and antagonist. It is often divided into two sequences:


1. Getting there (storming the castle)
2. The final battle itself

* Thematic Location — often a visual and literal representation of the Hero/ine’s Greatest Nightmare
* The protagonist’s character change
* The antagonist’s character change (if any)
* Possibly allies’ character changes and/or gaining of desire
* Could be one last huge reveal or twist, or series of reveals and twists, or series of final payoffs you've been saving (as in BACK TO THE FUTURE and IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE).

* RESOLUTION: A glimpse into the New Way of Life that the hero/ine will be living after this whole ordeal and all s/he’s learned from it.

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So, anyone have a top few rewriting tricks for me (and my class?)  I’m always looking!

- Alex

Screenwriting Tricks for Authors