The Things You Learn When You Network

I rather impulsively decided to attend a film networking night yesterday. It proved to be very instructive. These are just a few of the things I discovered:

People who aren’t writers are fascinated by Writer’s Block.

When the first question someone asks on introducing yourself as a screenwriter is, “how do you deal with writer’s block?” and when this happens on more than one occasion, your normal state of writer paranoia takes hold. Do I have something tattooed on my forehead? Can you tell I wrote 5 pages of absolute dreck before coming here? Did I leave my talent at the registration desk? Curiously, no one believed me when I said that writer’s block is simply code for being lazy. In most cases it really, really is... honest!

Actors must have their picture on their business card.

It was explained to me that this is because they are selling themselves as a product. [Insert straight face]. Whereas, you know, writers only have words and stuff. I’m pretty sure there’s a Writers’ Guild bylaw that prohibits writers using their photo, police sketch, stylised drawing or any other image, implicit or otherwise that could identify them. This is based on the premise that writers should not be seen, heard, or allowed in public places for more than an hour at a time (especially where sunshine is present). Actors one, writer nil.

When pitching your latest screenplay you’re actually inviting an actor to cast themselves.

Once we dispense with the writer’s block question next comes the inevitable, “what are you working on?” (presumably nothing due to that nasty block thing but let’s jump to the next scene shall we with a dubious transition). What a writer fails to realise is that when talking to an actor they are also using code. In this instance what they’re actually asking is, “is it within the realms of possibility you might have a good script with a role where surely I’m the only actress on the planet who could play it?” Writers are notoriously susceptible to such simple charms. (Yes, okay, it usually works much better when a vivacious actress is involved). Even when said actress bears no resemblance to the character as written. My Find and Replace gag worked a treat… before scurrying to the exit with fear in my heart. Actors two, writer nil.

Never, ever, under any circumstance leave your overpriced drink unattended.

Seriously, this is a biggie for a writer! Expensive, half empty stubby of cider left on a table behind you as you chat and sip from your ice-filled glass. Turn around for a refill – GONE! This is when you suffer TRUE writer’s block as your mind struggles to process the evident non-existence of your drink! Fracture in the space-time continuum? Wormhole? Time travel? Elaborate Ocean’s-style heist? Thankfully the ensuing negotiation did not require me to leap across the bar and demand justice as a full replacement was issued forthwith. The poor trainee wait-person, however, was jittery around me the rest of the night. Yes, a writer deprived of alcohol is a scary proposition.

Everybody in the local film industry is quote "lovely" close quote.

Even when they have the propensity to use the C word – as a noun, adjective, adverb, verb, punctuation mark, pet name. Everybody except for me apparently. However, I’m assured that with more appearances, etiquette lessons, and the purchase of a small puppy dog I could indeed be lovely as well. Actors three, writer nil.

Guardians for minors are only there to ensure their children make enough money from acting to buy them a palatial retirement home.

I was encouraged that anyone under the age of 18 was required to have a guardian with them on the night. This sounded eminently sensible - allowing minors unsupervised around screenwriters clearly could scar them for life. I learnt a new industry term – Mumager. I assumed this was a mother with only the best interests of their child’s career at heart. Little did I know it’s all a protection racket that would make various fictional criminal organisations blush! I was almost moved to hatch an escape plan Great Escape-style but I was too distracted by the missing cider, the writer’s block and various vivacious actresses to work out where to dig the tunnel. Actors three, writer one (by dint of an own goal).

Finally, I learnt that people actually read this blog.

People who I had never met before knew who I was because they read my humble misadventures. One person compared my posts to some of the finest writing they had read in recent memory… though that might have been me. Seriously though, I was quite heartened by this revelation with people saying they found the blog entertaining, funny and insightful. Entirely what it is designed to be as well as give you an idea of what sort of writer I am.

It is in that spirit that this post has been written (okay, well, except maybe for the insightful) with tongue firmly in cheek and certain events exaggerated for dramatic and satirical intent. Well, all of the events really.

I enjoyed the evening, made some new contacts, caught up with people who I have worked with before and talked projects, tall tales and something to do with Irish strippers that probably doesn’t bear repeating.

If you’re an aspiring filmmaker in Perth looking to make new contacts then check out the Perth Film Network website and facebook group.

Which came first – the script or the audition?

I had the opportunity to sit in on auditions yesterday for one of the short films I’ve written. I found it most instructive for several reasons.

Firstly, some background:

The script is based on improvisations. It is a nice little ghost story.

The auditions were only for members of the youth film school who conducted the improvisations. In other words, the actors were already familiar with the material.

Two directors had previously been attached – the first, along with his producing partner, withdrew when they remembered they had two funded shorts already in production; the second director ended up getting offers on another continent. Both sets of circumstances outside of my control.

The third (and final!) director – Paul Komadina - had recently approached me to write a short for him (which we will still do) and in those discussions this project came up. We have never worked together though we did go through an online Skype course with an American consultant last year after both being shortlisted for a screenwriting award. Yes, he also writes.

With a new director comes script changes. Also working out storytelling sensibilities and something I bang on about a fair bit, tone.

So we had discussed changes but for the purposes of the audition the two scenes chosen were left unchanged. Mainly because any alterations will be minor (they are the first two scenes of the film and it’s the ending Paul has a deliciously wicked plan for) and the timeframe for the actors to learn new pages would have been pretty tight.

I should also mention, as part of this process, the two male characters felt the writer’s malevolent backspace key and are no more (sorry guys, I was under instructions!).

For the audition Paul asked the actors to learn all four roles. They were auditioned in pairs running the actual scenes then swapping, taking a minute or so to “reset” and come back in. This was done for three pairings.

In effect, for me, it was a mini-workshop knowing that script changes needed to be made. I could see the characters and scenes come to life with differing interpretations from the actors – what worked, what may need to be rethought in the writing, new ways to play those two scenes and what that may mean for subsequent scenes.

Paul’s re-directs were interesting as well, opening up possibilities but also getting an insight into what he’s thinking as we start the process of working out the writer-director relationship. Things like asking an actor to play a scene a certain way that deliberately contradicted what the text suggested was fascinating to observe. Again, especially for tone.

Everything was filmed and it was all very relaxed as the actors were encouraged to try different things and, in many ways, play with the material. I had obviously worked with them before during the improvisation and workshopping phase but they were seeing Paul for the first time. The feedback was that they were impressed, particularly with the clarity of the re-directs.

I have now finished the next draft moving towards Paul’s ideas for the story. That still requires work but it was great to be able to witness the auditions and use them as a jumping off point for the changes required.

It also means things are getting closer to production which is exciting!

Writer as acting coach

I had an interesting catch up with an actor friend today. Said actor sprung a 3 page scene from an original play (oddly it was in script not play format) for an audition she has later in the week. I didn't think it was particularly well written and I couldn't get a sense of tone - the dialogue was arch and melodramatic so I thought maybe it was meant to be satirical. But I was assured it was a drama and the page count was in the 50s ... so well into the story.

My friend then asked me how I thought she might play the scene. There was no clear action change for her character and the obvious choice was to veer towards melodrama. But that seemed easy and kind of boring. So we went through and manufactured where an action change might be, how lines might be delivered and where the balance of power shifts in the scene.

I think in terms of screen not stage so my choices were based more on a visual sense but we muddled through a passable take on the scene with strong choices that would hopefully differentiate my friend in the casting process. Funnily enough, I'd never really been asked to do that before for something I hadn't written. It was enjoyable but now I fear my advice may hinder not enhance my friend's prospects!

I do admire actors though - to have to make the most of a scene out of context with no real idea of tone especially in a piece that isn't well written must be so nerve wracking. Nearly as nerve wracking as a writer being asked advice on acting!