
Unlike novels, a script has implications far beyond the imagination of the reader. It is the document blue-print for an ultimately collaborative endeavor. In order to be an effective screenwriter, you need to be hyper aware of the production process and post-production process. I say aware, since you don’t have to do those tasks, you just need to know what is required of someone who does.
A couple of months ago at Screenwriter Karaoke, I was chatting with a writer about script dialogue. He was insistent that “real authentic dialogue is exactly like conversation.” I responded that dialogue wasn’t actual conversation, but only gave the impression of conversation for the the sake of story. It is condensed and streamlined. After all, not everything we say in real life is interesting or even poignant. As we shared the exchange about a what dialogue needed to be, he pulled the “well where did you learn how to write?” line. He’d gone to USC, was extolling the virtues of McKee or someone. I simply said: “post-production.”
Pull the needle from the record! What, does the (mostly) solitary act of writing have to do with, say, cutting together a film? Quite a bit actually. Time and time again, I read scripts by writers who are woefully unaware that production and post process even takes place. For example: I often see scenes begin awkwardly with somebody walking into the room, simply to begin small talk, when the meat of the scene is a 30 second dialogue exchange on the couch later, where Jimmy tells Jane he’s joined a Poison cover band to avenge the death of his gerbil “Mikey.”
In a quest to mimic actual conversation, writers actually create the kind of stilted and obvious dialogue that makes most people groan. Film editing taught me to get in late and get out quick. Through my work, I’d spent so much time editing other people’s (bad!) dialogue, I began to gain a sense of what “good” dialogue sounded like to me. Part of a film editor’s job is to further finesse the dialogue, cut it so it sounds and feels natural, while maintaining the essence of the scene. In many ways, the last cut of a film is the final draft of the script, or as Oscar nominated Director/Actor Peter Riegert said last year at the Southampton Screenwriting Conference: “Your script isn’t finished until opening night.”
As an editor, I was reverse engineering how to write a good scene. I am able to recognize good dialogue when I read it in a script because I can see the semblance and pacing of “real” conversation, without all the boring parts. I am able to write good funny visual jokes that pop at the right moment, because I have an idea of when to get in and get out.
I put a call out to several writing and screenwriting communities for some comments on how their editing backgrounds have impacted their ability to write:
… I think it’s all part of what makes my film sense together, so it might have subconsciously influenced my writing.
Merrill Barr (Another Merrel?!)
You learn the idea of pacing early… when you bring that knowledge to writing, you end up pacing it the way you would edit something… It’s also helped the way I write movie/tv reviews. Reviews are written like a trailer almost. Short(ish), sweet, and to the point. I hate reviews that spend 4 paragraphs on nothing important. Most of my reviews never pass 700 words. You really shouldn’t need more than that.
I’ve spent a lot of time watching editors cut my extraneous dialogue (and sometimes entire scenes). So, I’m always thinking about the editor as I write. Is he just going to cut this bit anyway? Why do I think it’s so important, anyway?
So, the next time you write excruciatingly slow small talk, or have characters inexplicably enter the room at the beginning of the scene, think about how that scene will play visually, and how there would be no way in hell, it would ever make it out of the editing room.
I encourage every writer to learn how to cut. I learned to cut on an AVID, and in recent years have moved to Final Cut Pro. There are many options out there. But, once you get a sense of how to assemble a scene visually, you’ll notice your writing will become more succinct. And even if you never work professionally as an editor, it is a skill and knowledge set which in no way can do harm to your ability to tell a story effectively. Get out there and be aware. Your story will be thankful for it.
One Comment
I worked in TV and film production before I started writing. I agree with many of the points made. Knowing the film process will help a writer, but first the writer has to get the story on the page.
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