Back in 2009, Screenwriter Xandy Sussan and I did a head to head break down of the of the film Shaun of The Dead. In honor of Halloween, let’s take a look at the blast from the past, and how story structure, style, and character elevates a film like Shaun of the Dead.

Shaun of the Dead: How do you Pegg it, when you Wright?

The zombie movie is as pervasive in our cinematic culture as popcorn at the concession stand, but what Shaun of the Dead brings us is a new take on a staid and challenging genre by seamlessly incorporating fresh comedic and romantic details into the traditional George A. Romero style zombie film. Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg figured out how to take a genre and twist it around, all the while, never sacrificing the key elements that make it what it is: a true zombie flick.

How do you tell a standard story in a way that is so fresh, so new, that while the pacing and character arcs are familiar, the offering is unique and special? How do you avoid being cliché, when there are only so many stories to tell and so many ways in which to tell them? The answer: Change the details. Could it really be that simple? Indeed, the Devil is in the details and the details are what makes a standard, typical, pat plot, fresh and inventive. That is exactly what Wright and Pegg did with Shaun of the Dead.

Shaun of the Dead changed the details in several key ways. In most zombie films, we open with a mysterious outbreak of a virus or some government experiment gone awry. The citizens get infected and then finally, a reluctant hero emerges, with a sawed-off shot gun to save the day… of the dead. But he winds up tragically only saving himself. Wright and Pegg take those elements and redefined them when they created Shaun.

CHARACTER

Xandy Sussan: Shaun, as a character, is archetypal, relatable, and understandable. He has a girlfriend he loves but he can’t get his act together. He works a dead end job, because he can’t get his act together. He has a Hamlet-esque relationship with his sainted mother, and childishly hates his step-father, because he can’t get his act together. Shaun is your basic everyman. The twist? Shaun is, while healthy, a zombie merely plodding through his own life. It takes the confrontation with the real zombies to knock him out of his stupor , to seize life, and to regain his love.

Both as a character and a visual metaphor, Shaun is what makes this movie such a gem and it is the literalness of the metaphor that makes it so clever. While the concept of the man sleep-walking through life is a well established premise, showing a man literally walking through life like a zombie, until such time as he has to fight actual zombies is a fresh and inventive take on that basic idea. The script wove pedestrian character dilemmas in to the fabric of the story so seamlessly. It used action counterpoint so masterfully, to articulate the problems that it felt there were two films (a romantic comedy and a zombie flick) running side by side, in harmonious, parallel perfection.

Merrel Davis: It is Shaun’s day-to-day minutiae, which establishes his character as someone we know, but that is only half of the character equation. Every Lone Ranger needs his Tonto, and for Shaun, it is the daft and selfish, best friend Ed. Ed appears only as comic relief in the first act, a bumbling fool who is so self-involved that while everyone is running from zombies, it is he who pauses for a silly photo-op or takes a call from a mate looking to score some weed. Others, including Shaun, feel that it is exactly this behavior that is holding Shaun back. Ed’s actions, serve to highlight the duality of Shaun: the man-child and the emerging hero. It is these two discordant characteristics, which illuminate Shaun’s inability to marry his old life with his new.

When Shaun finally decides that he must grow up, that he must be responsible for more than just himself, it is Ed’s ridiculous and selfish behavior that forces Shaun into a moment of clarity and responsibility. At the height of being surrounded by hundreds of zombies in front of the locked pub, “The Winchester,” Shaun can no longer ignore what he hates about his friend, what he hates about himself.

Like a good “Tonto” always did, when backed in a corner, Ed displays a triumphant act of heroism and sacrifice. When the zombies are closing in on the cellar and it seems as though all is lost, Ed redeems himself and shows Shaun that while you can still be a child at heart, you can also be a man.

Visual Style

Turning an eye to the visual look of Shaun of the Dead, we discover frenetic and fast paced cuts ala Requiem for a Dream for the most mundane of tasks such as brushing teeth. It is this visual reinvention of pedestrian activities which creates a feverish yet controlled environment that enhances the pacing of the plot. It is this filmmaking style, married with intuitive use of tracking shots and visual call backs that makes this movie.

MD: The first scene is a brilliant piece of filmmaking and editing that immediately pulls the audience in, while exposing several layers of backstory through a series of cut-aways and reveals. The scene begins tight on Shaun. It appears as if he is alone at the bar. Then, as we pull back, Liz is revealed. It now seems as though they are alone having a relationship chat. But then, we go wide again to reveal Ed, as he plays a fruit machine, mere steps away from the quarreling lovers. Then we ratchet back in tight to Shaun and Liz, until the line “It’s not like I don’t like David and Di” where we reveal yet again, there are more players in the room. We cut to a medium wide of David and Dianne as they sit right next to Liz; a hilarious reveal.

This style of editing and shot construction opens up the scene to five players, in a clever way that later echoes the interpersonal relationships and struggles the characters must confront. It also allows for us to go back in tight between two characters and then go wide again, without feeling too jostled.

XS: I love the entire “You’ve got red on you” sequence and multiple call backs. From the moment it begins, we find a foreboding, yet hilarious rake joke foreshadowing what’s to come. A simple pen stain on a white shirt really means so much more. It establishes character: a schnook of a man whose pen breaks open, ruining his work shirt. We suddenly know all we need to about that guy, and it’s all conveyed through one tiny detail: a small red stain on a white work shirt.

The red ink establishing the bloodshed to come is both a simple and elegant. It is a perfect visual clue to let us know what is just around the corner. When both Ed and Shaun’s Mother subsequently deliver the line “You’ve got red on you,” the meaning and intention is overtly clear. It is a quite clever touch, really.

STORY

The story is as basic as they come. Boy gets girl, boy looses girl, boy gets girl back by slaying zombies. What Wright and Pegg did was take a standard by-the-numbers plot and make it dazzling, simply by adjusting the details and changing up the visual way in which they were presented. They did so without sacrificing originality and staying true to their genre.

XS: The story, on the whole, is satisfying on a number of levels. There’s the romance between Shaun and Liz: their easily relatable problems, their commonplace if not charming arguments, their friends who can’t help but interfere with their own agendas. It’s your standard three act romantic comedy but it delivers with clever, fresh dialogue and a breezy pace.

MD: Then there is the zombie element, the action, and the adventure. All of which takes us down a path of thrilling edge-of-your-seat entertainment.

As the zombies spill to the streets there are moments that evoke Resident Evil 2, a survival horror video game. These are moments of intense desperation and fear, not only just of the known (zombies) but the overarching fear of the unknown (government conspiracy?)

Shaun embarks on a treasure hunt of sorts, he must go from location to location, saving person by person, until he leads them to relative safety. And, as though the filmmakers knew the audience was getting a little antsy for some gunplay, they deliver in the form of a pump-action shot gun!

XS: And of course there is the comedy to give us a much needed respite from all of the harrowing gore. There’s always room for a joke and Wright and Penn know the proper moment to deliver one, especially in the most dire of circumstances. Whether is be an off-color fart joke (“Shaun, I’m sorry. No, I’m really sorry”) or the more subtle joke (“No, what does ‘exacerbate’ mean?”) there is always an instance, which enhances the story or gives us a momentary break from the non-stop action.

MD: I especially liked the choreographed attack of the elderly zombie backed by the soundtrack of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now. It was new, different and gave the audience a catchy tune to bounce around to, while violence was erupting all around us.

A zombie flick is several things: it is a visual story, it is an emotional, and oft times painful journey, it is a bloody catharsis, which by the end, leads us to be reborn, satisfied movie goers. Shaun of the Dead is a perfect example of a film whose details made all the difference between lazing down the path of least resistance and charging down the avenue of newly conceived, exciting peril.

It is with Shaun of the Dead that we rediscover our love of romance, adventure and are thrilled by an equal amount of gory, yet hilarious, zombie slaying. The audience leaves with two lessons: Pay attention to your life, because it’s over before you know it. And that any story is new again when you simply change the details. The details are what will make your script and subsequent film stand out from the lackluster trite projects that consistently glut the marketplace. Shaun of the Dead should inspire you, as it did us, to employ standard structure and stay true to our chosen genre, but be intrepid when crafting original and creative, stand-out details.

Over at Regrifters.com, I have a new article up, The Thrifter Who Played God. Where I take the reader on a CSI journey to uncover just what kind of script I found at a yard sale in Los Angeles. Turns out, I found a winner!

Regrifters isn’t an entertainment magazine, but rather a lifestyle mag. Their about page says it all

A REGRIFTER (noun): someone who can spot a treasure in the trash, see its potential, get it for a song, spruce it up with a little bit of flair, and send it back out into the world, upcycled and ready for a new life. Your magnificent new gift will be filled with charm, whimsy, and be the perfect conversation piece that looks like it cost bread, son.

Read the whole article after the jump!

The Thrifter Who Played God
By: Merrel Davis

I’m never one to pass up a yard sale or a “junk-in-a-box-on-a-curb” opportunity. Hunting for really cool items, which resonate with me on a personal level, is rewarding and something I’ve done since I was a child. By the second grade, I was secretly amassing collections of culture – it started innocuously with coins and post-cards, then spiraled into obscure advertisements and periodicals. I had German copies of Spider-man, a Japanese translation of the King James Bible, an Italian children’s book in Braille. Yeah, I like weird shit.

Exactly what constitutes Hollywood memorabilia is really in the eye of the beholder and depends on what someone is willing to pay for an item. Film is such a personal thing and movies touch us all differently, on many emotional levels. Growing up worshiping at the alter of cinema, honestly, most of the “traditional” memorabilia (collectible photos, autographs, props) I find to be such a pedestrian bore. I work in production, so that stuff doesn’t excite me. But what I do love, is how L.A. offers you a unique opportunity to thrift and find treasures from Hollywood nights past, like you can in no other city.

There is a tangibility to an old bound script that you just can’t get with a sleek 120-page PDF. I read a lot of scripts. There’s a comforting feeling that accompanies a type-written script, even if it’s not a good one. That’s at least partly why I am enamored by “The Man Who Played God,” a 1974 script starring Martin Sheen and produced by the Emmy-winning company Bob Banner and Associates. They are best known for producing the Carol Burnett Show.

How did I end up with a vintage copy of this random script? I was walking on a Sunday afternoon around my neighborhood, when I passed by a man named Jim, who was loading up his van. I spied a Paramount call sheet from Monday December 9, 1974, stuffed in between a stack of bound scripts and I had to investigate.

After a little bit of chit-chat, Jim gave me free reign to rummage, and rummage I did! I found several scripts but most alluring to me was the call sheet that had a familiar name on it. “Martin Sheen. Part of: Holmes.” Okay, so with a Paramount call sheet, name producers and talent, what else could possibly add to the legitimacy of this super-cool find?

I opened the spine of the script and from the center fell a staff and crew list from the production. Full with title, name, address and phone number of everyone involved in the production from the director all the way to kraft services. Note: Most of these numbers are disconnected. To date, it’s been 36-years since this script was made. Jim wanted them gone, so I greedily grabbed the whole box of scripts and skipped home like Charlie with his golden ticket, theme song and all.

When I got home, I wasn’t able to find anything about this film on the IMDB. All I had to go on was the Paramount production number and the title page which stated “Based on: The United States vs. Holmes #15382.” A short legal lesson later, I made my way to the origin of the story, the sinking of the American Ship the William Brown in 1841.

Wikipedia sums it up nicely: The William Brown was an American ship that sank in 1841, taking with her 31 passengers. A further 16 passengers were forced out of an overloaded lifeboat before the survivors were rescued. In the case of United States v. Holmes, crewman Alexander Holmes was charged with murder and convicted of manslaughter for his actions.

But still no “The Man Who Played God” anywhere to be found! Was this a theatrical release? Was it only released overseas? Never released at all? Back to the IMDB-mobile!

Then, I checked out “The Man Who Played God,”written by Douglas Day Stewart; did you know he wrote “The Boy in a the Plastic Bubble” and “An Officer and a Gentleman,” along with a slew of other memorable scripts? I know, me neither! But one title stood out, I must have glossed over it since I didn’t know the context of the story of the William Brown, but now it all made sense. “The Man Who Played God” was in fact entitled The Last Survivors

Booya! This film does exist, it was a made-for-TV movie and aired on March 4th 1975; a quick 4-months after the call-sheet date. Armed with all this info, I went back to the box of scripts, to see if I could find anything else. What I found was a real treat, or should I say treatment. “Abandon Ship” is the treatment for “The Man Who Played God.” It’s not uncommon for scripts to have working titles, especially in the outline or treatment phase. But I’d be hard pressed to tell you I’ve ever been given a window made for TV movie starring Martin Sheen from the treatment phase all the way to broadcast. As some dude who opened up a storage locker once said: “This is the ‘wow’ factor.”

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:

Xiaoniu (via reddit)

… 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.

Millstone99 (via Reddit)

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.

This weekend I was glad to be a part of the ongoing and ever-growing Script Chat as a guest for their professional reader panel. In the past year, I’ve watched this small twitter chat go from real life colleagues and friends, and then sky rocket into six degrees of Twitter.

Twitter chats aren’t new, just take a look at the long list of Twitter chats about writing compiled by @inkyelbows and you’ll see what I mean. I entered the Twitter chat pool as a participant of #WriteChat but found the discourse was specific to fiction novel writing. I even lazily maintain my own chat #ScreenwritingSaturday. It’s an informal hash tag for causal weekend discussion. (Stop by!)

I have many peers that scoff at the idea of using Twitter. They complain they don’t care what I eat for breakfast.  But to be clear, I’ve staffed projects, met people, and received work through the magic of Twitter. I just smile when someone is excessively pessimistic about such things.

Community is important. I started Screenwriter Karaoke for this very reason. We, collectively, as a new era of filmmakers are carving out the attitudes and business models of tomorrow. It starts in the ground floor of dedicated professionals who are striving to make their work shine. It starts in communities like Script Chat.

My appearance as a panelist on Script Chat culminated with a special announcement — Double Feature: a new joint venture with CoverMyScript.com owner Xandy Sussan. We have harnessed our years of experience to provide simultaneous coverage and development services at a value to our clients. It is only with the support community can we try such enterprising things. So, thanks!

Back in 2002 I was studying to be an audio engineer at The Sheffield Institute for the Recording Arts. I reasoned that since I fancied myself a musician, it was an important step to learn how to produce my own music.

I further studied and later re-directed my focus on production and post-production for film. It was an excellent choice which gave me an important educational foundation to move onto and pursue rewarding work.

So, it is very exciting to share that nearly eight years after I graduated from Sheffield that I’ve been featured in their Alumni online magazine. Check it out!

I’ve been asked a many of times through email about what exactly I do as a script reader, and what the rewards for doing such work are. I’ve formulated my emails into a more comprehensive post for your reading enjoyment.

Why do I read scripts?

Script reading is great as a vehicle to help cultivate your own craft. It’s a crash course in what to do and more importantly what NOT to do in your own scripts. It also allows me to connect with other writers and help them with their work.

I got my whistle wet with some one-off gigs, and started writing coverage just for experience. After a while, I answered an ad for a reader at a management company. Now I freelance as a reader as well.

In reading the work of others, it has made me aware of the landscape of scripts in the spec market. In many cases these are my peers and counterparts, so it is a good education. For example: in the past year I’ve observed some prevailing themes, and “go to” stories are that have popped up again and again. One reoccurring dramatic device seems to be setting a story either right before/during/after 9/11 – often to the detriment of the story.

How do I evaluate scripts?

Honesty is key – I evaluate a script in the same manner that I would expect somebody to analyze my work. Which means a forthright and constructive analysis. When I evaluate for a company, my notes come with a recommendation on whether to consider or pass. In many cases, I am the first line of defense between your script and ‘people that matter’ reading your script.

My goal is not to artificially elevate the script or the writer. I evaluate scripts based on what is actually on the page. That is to say, I grade based on the reality of their work, not their perceived intention.

Some excerpts of from general notes I’ve provided.

On a time travel romantic comedy:

“A brisk, funny script with a clearly delineated premise of love and time travel. An effective subplot about gender roles and marriage complements the main story. Though elements of the script are derivative, such as ‘the time traveler forced to make a decision about love’ or ‘the academic forced to see the role of women through his own eyes’, these elements come together well.

The plot of the script is ultimately predictable, but reaches the climax in an enjoyable fashion. Main characters are strong, whereas some secondary characters need development. The dialogue is contemporary despite being a time-piece and scientific dialogue can be overly technical without visual aide. Consider: the sum of its part make for a campy, funny albeit expected screenplay.”

On a gritty NYC crime drama:

“…The set-up begins strong. There is a solid first act, in which the perceived protagonist goes missing. Quickly though, the script loses direction, as the character introduced in the act one is never referred to or seen again.

The script has many formatting, structure and pacing problems that affect the readability and intended meaning of some scenes. A large amount of the action text is novelized, features overly wordy terms, lengthy internal dialogue, and omniscient declarations of character’s feelings.

While the concept of a missing person, a love triangle, and drug deals gone bad are compelling, the script lacks a cohesive execution to bring all these strands together.”

What do I look for when reading a script?

I can usually tell within the first couple of pages what type of script it’s going to be. Good scripts, for me, are almost always immediately engaging. These are a just a small number of the things that I’ll make note of while reading your script.

• Readability is key. Since your script is not the only one I’m reading, things like concise scene headings and clear action text allow for a brisk read. I shouldn’t have to double-back and re-read something because it is unclear. I can usually read a good script 2-3 hours, where as bad scripts actually take longer.
• Sharp involving dialogue. Easier said than done, but, believable dialogue is so important to suspension of disbelief. Poor or even innocuous dialogue can reduce dramatic impact on a scene or even the whole script.
• A new perspective or idea. As an example, we’ve seen countless zombie movies from the point of view of the sole surviving humans fending off the undead. The recently Cannes screened Colin takes that perspective and flips it, following from the point of view of a zombie. It is a new approach that still utilizes the established convention of the zombie genre.
• Not just a clever premise, but a clever execution. A script must stand on more than its log-line. If your script is AMERICAN PSYCHO meets IRON CHEF – that idea must be sold solidly throughout. The script cannot rely on good intention alone.
• Concise yet illustrative action text that puts me in a location quickly and clearly. This allows me to get to the meat (usually dialogue) easily.

What are the No-No’s?

These things will cause me to bemoan and curse you. Don’t do them.

• If you haven’t taken the time to proof read, edit, and correct your script why should I care about your work? It’s clear you don’t. The same goes for formatting. If you don’t even attempt to format a script, you don’t want it as much as you say you do.
• Excessive exposition in dialogue and action text. Sometimes exposition may be a necessary device (depending on the type of script) but most of the time exposition by design belabors and sometimes insults. Be creative and visual if you need to convey back story. Overt declarations in dialogue are unnatural and belabor what could have been a much more subtle point.
• Novelization of action text. A script is not a novel. Do not spend 4 paragraphs verbosely describing: “Jim slowly stepped into the room, things appear untouched, he thought ‘this seems familiar’ as particles of dust catch the autumn sun, revealing the aged and worn wooden floor built in 1952, but later stained with blood in the 1974 murder.” Be concise!
• Excessive back story. Be discerning when disclosing back story. Is it truly important to the audience? If so does it need to be disclosed a the top of the script? Jim may have been an excellent baseball player in the third grade, but unless he has to slide into home to save his life, it just is not important to the story.
• Don’t put a fake production company on your cover page. Realistically, if you had your own production company, you wouldn’t really be trying to get someone else to produce your own work would you?
• Giant watermarks on every page. It’s one thing when you share the script with your friends, but as the FAQ for the Nicholl Fellowship says: “Do not print your pages with admonitions against copying your script. Good scripts need to be copied. Bad ones do not.”

Will you evaluate my script?

Yes, of course. Please email me at ScriptReading @ MerrelDavis.com for rates.

Apologies for the lack of updates the past two weeks. Things have been busy, but I finally broke free.

So! What’s going on?

Script Writing

I recently finished a four month intensive screenplay workshop at the New York Film Academy. The endeavor proved fruitful. In February, I finished my the first draft of my still unnamed feature script. In March, I worked on the first revision, and in the beginning of April I finished my second revision. The script is currently making rounds with some of my peers and mentors. I feel I need to work on some of my B stories and development of some secondary characters.

Overall the feedback on my feature script has been very promising. After another draft, I’ll explore entering it into a lab and possibly begin sending it out to production companies.

I’m in the preliminary writing stages of a trans-gendered romantic comedy. I’ve solicited the help of a writing partner who writes very “punchy” dialogue, which I like. I need to meet with him next week to push the project back in order.

I’ve also put down the foundation for a 1 hour drama TV spec with two other writing partners. It’s slow going as each of them are drafting up their own feature scripts currently.

On the short film front, I’ve written a 10 minute short called I Can’t Wake From Obsolete. It deals with concepts of planned obselescence taken to an extreme. My second revision and character backgrounds are in the hands of some producing students at NYFA. The short is the thesis for a directing student. I’m excited to see what he will do with it. The project is still currently in casting. More on this as it develops.

Other work:

I’ve been providing production assistance for Peabody and Emmy Award-winning documentary company. The past two months have been spent on a 2 hour project for National Geographic. The work is great, the people are great, the environment is electric. The program is set to air sometime in late June 2009. I’ll update when the official name and air-date are publically available.

I’m still working as a script reader for a managment company.  I’m reading lots of very bad scripts. And let me tell you, nothing is a better crash course in what not to do in screenwriting than reading some bad ones. Every once in a while I am treated to a good script, which makes it worthwhile as well.

Keeping in line with the aesthetic of my site, I made up some business cards. Like my splash page, I conjured up my graphic design prowess and hand drew the design.

Purdy, eh? I tested the waters with them over at the IFP Script to Screen conference last week. They were a hit.

So, what’s going on in Merrel-land? Quite a bit actually.

I sent my first draft and revisions of my screenplay to a select few close friends and mentors. The screenplay is still untitled, I’ve jokingly tossed the title Anybody Besides Merrel? But it seems too playful given the darker subject matter. Anyway, the first round of feedback seems to be that Act II isn’t strong. So, I’ll revisit that. I’m waiting for some more feedback before I take it out of the drawer.

My production internship at the documentary company has been great. The people are smart, driven and know how to tell a story. It’s a great environment. I had a reprieve this week as the core crew was overseas for six days shooting re-enactments for an upcoming National Geographic documentary.  They are back this week, so I anticipate to have some super crazy days later in the week. They’ll be transcribing and encoding around 50 DVCPRO tapes of footage.

Work as a script reader has proved fruitful as well.  I read and write coverage for about two to three scripts a week. I’m learning how to critically deconstruct a screenplay. It is interesting to view things from this side of screenwriting. I’m just packing away a wealth of knowledge. I’ll probably touch in greater detail in a separate post about the role of a script reader and its benefits.

I have three “floating” writing projects. One is a romantic comedy which I’m working with a classmate from the NYFA screenwriting workshop. The writing partner has a very specific dialogue driven spark. Which adds a great element to the writing.  I’m also working with a NYFA filmmaking student to re-work his thesis short script. Lastly a couple of other friends from the film academy have gotten together and we are working on a dialogue-heavy yet surreal table scene (ala Reservoir Dogs “Do you tip?”)At this rate there isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not reading or writing a script.