TOP TENSCREENPLAY REWRITE TIPS

By

Jim Kalergis

COPYRIGHT - 2012 by James Kalergis

* * *

License Notes: This free ebook may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.

* * *

Author contact information.Email: screenplayrewrite@earthlink.net

Website: screenplayrewrite.com

* * *

CONTENTS

Introduction

Tip # 1 - Kill your darlings!

Tip #2 - Get spaced out!

Tip #3 - Ask Mom!

Tip #4 - Condense the soup!

Tip #5 – Figure out what your story is really about!

Tip #6 - Scout out new locations!

Tip #7 - Bribe family and friends with pizza and beer!

Tip #8 - Play tag!

Tip #9 - Turn up the heat!

Tip #10 - Make it personal!

A Note From the Author

* * *

INTRODUCTION

There’s an old saying in the screenwriting trade:

“Write from the gut and rewrite from the head.”

And most of us do. For that reason our first screenplay drafts tend to be anything but true “first” drafts. Chances are, by the time we’re done writing “from the gut” and ready to call that first draft a done deal, we’ve poured over it, page-by-page, a dozen times or more.

Next comes the challenge of rewriting “from the head” in the hope of realizing every last bit of the potential inherent in our original screen story vision. But there’s a problem. After all those passes, our first draft is already perfect... at least to us. After all, why would we have written it any other way?

Ernest Hemmingway’s famous last words on the subject echo through our minds:

“The first draft of anything is shit.”Ernie H.

The “top ten” screenplay rewrite tips contained herein are a set of analytical tools intended to assist writers in making the transition from first draft write-from-the-gut mode to second draft write-from-the-head mode.

* * *

Tip # 1 - Kill your darlings!

I recall the words of a famous sculptor who when asked how he managed to make his horse statues so life-like, responded:

“I chip away everything that doesn’t look like a horse.”

The phrase “Kill your darlings” is sage rewrite advice from author, William Faulkner. It means that as writers we’re obliged to chip away everything from our screen story that’s not the “horse.” That may include entire scenes or even sequences that we love dearly and sweated blood over.

But what is the “horse” of our screen story? If we can’t identify it how do we decide what stays and what goes? The trick is to identify and clarify your through-lines. Through-lines are the “horse” of a screen story.

Through-lines are best expressed as questions. They are, in fact, the dramatic questions that are set up, posed, exploited, and answered over the course of your screen story.

The major through-line is a screen story’s start-to-finish question, which we’ll call the central dramatic question. (Think “plot.”)

Minor through-lines pose lesser dramatic questions. (Think “subplots.”)

Examples of major through-lines expressed as central dramatic questions:

Will Dorothy find her way safely back to Kansas, or will she fall victim to the wicked witch? (THE WIZARD OF OZ)

Will Jason Bourne solve the mystery surrounding his identity, or will he die trying?(THE BOURNE IDENTITY)

Will Harold and Kumar make it to the White Castle, or will they prove to be losers, through and through? (HAROLD & KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE)

The central dramatic question posed by the major through-line is what the story is mostly about. Act 1 sets up and poses the central dramatic question. Act 2 exploits the central dramatic question, keeping the audience guessing how it will ultimately be answered. Act 3 answers the central dramatic question, hopefully in a way that satisfies genre expectations and sends a happy audience on their way.

Minor through-lines pose lesser dramatic questions.

Examples of minor through-lines from THE WIZARD OF OZ:

Will the Scarecrow get a brain?Will the Tin Man get a heart?Will the Cowardly Lion find his courage?

It is the audience’s desire to know how your central dramatic question will eventually be answered that keeps them tuned in and interested for two hours or more. (And hopefully keeps your reader out of skim mode for a hundred or so pages.)

Once you’ve identified your story’s through-lines and the dramatic questions they pose, you’ve found your “horse.” If a scene, or any part of a scene, doesn’t set up a through-line or move the story forward along a through-line, it doesn’t belong. To continue the analogy, it doesn’t “look like a horse” so lose it.

The exception to this rule is those rare but necessary scenes intended to provide needed comic relief or a short break from rising dramatic tension.

There are many other tools in a professional story analyst’s toolbox, but understanding how to identify and clarify your through-lines is the only one you need when it comes time to find and “kill your darlings.”

* * *

Tip #2 - Get spaced out!

Here’s a simple trick that can make a big difference in how well your screenplay reads.

We all want our movie to play in a reader’s theater of mind, but we don’t want to distract them by calling shots. One technique for furthering this goal is “shot spacing.” As part of the rewrite process, while watching your movie play out in your own theater of mind, simply hit the enter key every time the shot you see in your mind’s eye changes. That’s all there is to it.

A scene before shot spacing.

INT. AFTERLAND – FORT NOWHERE – DAY

With its Old West motif, the room could have been lifted directly from the "Bonanza" set. Young Billy is tied securely to a heavy wooden chair. PJ STRANGER, middle-aged, three-day whiskers, and looking a bit like Doc Holiday stands watch over the boy. Suddenly, Billy's eyes open wide and the form of his body begins to pulsate, going alternately more and then less solid. PJ calls out across the room to ROWENA.

PJ STRANGERRowena! Come quickly. We're aboutto loose him!

Rowena, jet black hair, eyes every bit as black as her hair, forty-something, is still a knockout, with just a hint of the dominatrix thing going on. She goes to Billy and waves her hand rhythmically in front of his face.

ROWENA(Casting a spell)Morte etay stableezio, melino!

PJ STRANGERIt's not working!

Rowena touches the boy's forehead with the tip of her index finger. A whisk of smoke arises from the spot, and the pulsations stop. Billy's eyes close, and his body regains its solidity.

###

The same scene after shot spacing.

INT. AFTERLAND – FORT NOWHERE – DAY

With its Old West motif, the room could have been lifted directly from the "Bonanza" set.

Billy is tied securely to a heavy wooden chair.

PJ STRANGER, middle-aged, three-day whiskers and looking a bit like Doc Holiday, stands watch over the boy.

Suddenly, Billy's eyes open wide and the form of his body begins to pulsate, going alternately more and then less solid.

PJ calls out across the room to ROWENA.

PJ STRANGERRowena! Come quickly! We're about to loose him!

Rowena, jet black hair, eyes every bit as black as her hair, forty-something, is still a knockout, with just a hint of the dominatrix thing going on.

She goes to Billy and waves her hand rhythmically in front of his face.

ROWENA(Casting a spell)Morte etay stableezio, melino!

PJ STRANGERIt's not working!

Rowena touches the boy's forehead with the tip of her index finger.

A whisk of smoke arises from the spot, and the pulsations stop.

Billy's eyes close, and his body regains its solidity

###

See the difference?

Many writers embrace the arbitrary idea of limiting action blocks to four lines or four sentences. That approach does leave white space on the page, making for an easier read, but it’s nowhere near as effective as “shot spacing.”

One would think that shot spacing might add too many pages to a script, but in practice it rarely adds more than a page or two.

Rewriting using shot spacing is easy as pie, and it will help readers “see” your movie.

* * *

Tip #3 - Ask Mom!

After all that time spent writing, most of us can’t wait to have somebody read our work, even if it’s only a first draft. We crave feedback… any feedback. To that end we often times make non-writer friends and family members our first victims… make that “readers.”

The biggest mistake we can make is to automatically take seriously and implement every suggestion received. Every now and again a non-writer might give us a “but-of-course” moment, but truth be told, most of their suggestions if implemented would harm the read more than help it. Nonetheless, there is value in listening closely to what friends and family have to say about your work.

Firstly, friends and family are almost always right when it comes to identifying where there’s a problem in your screenplay. Something knocked them out of the story and it’s up to you to find out what that something was and fix it. This is particularly true when several readers find problems, albeit different problems, in the same section of your screen story.

Secondly, feedback on the emotional reactions your readers experienced in response to your screen story can help you judge how well you’re meeting genre expectations… smiles and laughter if it’s a comedy… going to sleep with the lights on and a baseball bat under the bed if it’s a horror story. It’s difficult to get strong emotional reactions from words on paper alone, but readers do react to a well-told story. How they react and what stands out for them in memory can provide insights into what in your script needs work, and what should be left as is.

* * *

Tip #4 - Condense the soup!

Ever made chicken soup? The process begins with a chicken, a few spices, and lots and lots of water. As you boil off the water, condensing the soup, the broth becomes ever more tasty. In like fashion, concentrating the action elements of your screenplay can make the read “ever more tasty” because excess verbiage dilutes the power of your story.

Here’s a rule of thumb that will help you “condense the soup.”

Get into every scene as late as possible and then get out as early as practical.

A scene before trimming.

INT. MARY'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY Mary sits on the sofa reading a romance novel.

As she pauses her reading to take a sip of tea, there’s a KNOCK on the door.

Mary gets to her feet and goes to answer the door.

ENTRANCE WAY

Anxious KNOCKING on the door.

MARYHold your horses, already!

Mary opens the door and finds Joan standing on her front porch, looking rather angry.

MARY Joan! What a pleasant surprise!

JOAN As pleasant as the time you had with my husband last night?

MARY I... I...

BAM! Joan punches Mary in the nose, knocking her to the ground.

JOAN Next time maybe you’ll think twicebefore messing with another woman’sman!

Joan turns on her heel and stomps away.

Mary gets to her feet, closes the door, and heads for the bathroom to tend to her nose.

###

The same scene after trimming.

INT. MARY'S HOUSE – ENTRANCE WAY - DAY

Anxious KNOCKING on the door.

MARYHold your horses, I’m coming!

Mary opens the door and finds Joan standing on her front porch, looking rather angry.

MARY Joan! What a pleasant surprise!

JOAN As pleasant as the time you had

with my husband last night?

MARY I... I...

BAM! Joan punches Mary in the nose, knocking her to the ground.

JOAN Next time maybe you’ll think twicebefore messing with another woman’s man!

Joan turns on her heel and stomps away.

###

The same principle can be applied to sequences or even to your entire story. If you can trim a bit of back-story or part of an extended sequence without harming the read, you should do so.

Keep in mind that all such rules of thumb are not cast in stone. Rules are intended to serve your story, not the other way around. Should you come across what at first glance appears to be excess verbiage, but upon closer examination can be seen to serve a dramatic purpose such as adjusting the pace of your story or momentarily releasing dramatic tension, of course you should leave it as written.

The cumulative effect of such minor subtle changes can make a major difference in how well your work is received.

* * *

Tip #5 – Figure out what your story is really about!

By that I mean, identify and clarify your theme. Your theme is more broadly what your story is about.

As a newcomer to screenwriting, I had a rough time coming to grips with the concept of "theme." The blurbs on the subject in the guru books and on the Internet blogs are packed with convoluted, confusing, and at times conflicting information.

To some, theme is nothing more than the general subject matter of a story.

“Violence.” “True Love.” “Avocados.”

To others, theme is the life lesson embedded in your story.

“What comes around goes around,” “It’s better to give than receive.” “Don’t eat the yellow snow.”

Neither of the above approaches to theme is of much value to you or me as writers. What can we do with them other than have a scholarly discussion? Not much. Here’s a practical definition of “theme” specifically intended for screenwriters:

Theme is an opinion about the subject matter of your screenplay, which the protagonist “proves” over the course of the story.

For example, the subject could be "violence" and the theme might be…

"Violence begets violence, and if you live a violent life, you’ll die a violent death.” (SCARFACE)

But a screenplay with the same subject matter “violence” could have a very different theme. For example…

"There are times when violence is best met with violence.” (DEATH WISH)

Tony Montana dies, proving the theme of SCARFACE.

Paul Kersey triumphs, proving the theme of DEATH WISH.

Identify your theme by asking yourself this question:

What did my protagonist learn or prove as a result of living the story?

The answer to that question is your theme.

As you rewrite with this understanding of theme in mind, you may spontaneously come up with ways to add depth to your characters and emotional impact to your ending. You might decide to have a character who’s attempting to prove the opposite of your theme… a counter-theme, as it were. Perhaps you’ll see your characters in a new light, some through their actions asserting your theme and others denying it.

Using this approach to theme is guaranteed to give you a new perspective on your work. It may even make you aware, perhaps for the first time, that you’ve been writing to a theme all along.

* * *

Tip #6 - Scout out new locations!

Location scouting is an important part in the pre-production phase of filmmaking. Virtual location scouting can be equally important in the rewrite phase of the screenwriting process.

Enough with scenes in bars, in restaurants, at the dining room table or in the office, already! Scout out new sparkling and scintillating locations for your screen story... settings that add value to the read.

Starting with page one, scene one, ask yourself the following questions:

“Is this the best setting for this scene, or is it same-old, same-old, boring?”

“Is there another setting, which might make the scene funnier, scarier, or is in some way otherwise more genre-appropriate?”

“Is there something I can add to this setting that will kick the scene up a notch or two?”

“Is there another location that could add stress or dramatic tension to the scene?

You probably recall the “you had me at hello” scene in the film, JERRY MAGUIRE. It’s memorable largely because of what was added to the setting. Rather than walking into an empty living room to reconcile with his wife,

Jerry walks in on a support group meeting for divorced woman. They tearfully look on as the couple kiss and make up. Brilliant!

Another approach to virtual location scouting is the “What if?” game.

What if they were in an elevator stuck between floors?

What if they’re at the zoo with their kids, and there are monkeys giving them strange looks?

What if grandma, who’s usually a bit out of it, is sitting across the room totally misunderstanding the conversation, who at the end of the scene has a funny, non sequitur line or two?

Have fun virtual location scouting, but don’t get caught at the game! If you change too many scenes to outlandish locations simply for effect, your readers may become aware of “the man behind the curtain”, fall out of the story, and then call you bad names!

* * *

Tip #7 - Bribe family and friends with pizza and beer!

It’s next to impossible to optimize your dialog without hearing it spoken aloud. Speaking your dialog aloud to yourself can help, but it’s not enough. I strongly recommend that you invite a few family members and friends to a table read party. Pizza is a must, and letting it be known that adult beverages will also be on hand has been known to boost positive RSVPs remarkably.

In preparation for the event, print hard copies of your screenplay, one for every two attendees, and one for yourself. (Each script will be shared by two participants.) In each of your actors’ scripts, highlight in a different color the dialog of the character(s) they’ll be playing. You may want to assign all the very minor roles to one person, and highlight accordingly. You’ll also need somebody to play the narrator. They’ll read your sluglines and action blocks.

As you hear your dialog acted out and spoken aloud, even by amateurs, you’ll notice all sorts of things you missed previously... awkward phrasing, stilted sentence structure, unnatural sounding sentences, and so forth. Take notes! If you hit a dialog road block, where a line of dialog just isn’t working, you might want to ask the performer, “How would you say it?”

It may become obvious to you that portions of your dialog, which looked right on the page, are in fact entirely unnecessary and should be deleted. This is because we, as writers, sometimes fail to take into account how much information is communicated visually and therefore need not be communicated at all via dialog.

Table read parties are a great tool for polishing dialog, and who knows… yours may well turn out to be the social event of the season!

* * *

Tip #8 - Play tag!

This one’s almost too easy. Do it right, and you’ll add subtle undertones to your characters without even breaking a sweat.

Tags are physical mannerisms or dialog quirks that are unique to a particular character. You may already have tags for your major players, but even minor characters can benefit from a tag. Tags help bring characters to life on the page and on the screen.

First make a list of all your characters’ names. Next go through the list assigning each character a physical habit or mannerism that fits their persona.

Examples of mannerisms:

Scratches chin.Blinks rapidly.Coughs nervously. Plays with wedding ring.Paces the floor.Rubs forehead.

Next assign each character a dialog quirk. Again, be sure it can be made to appear organic, stemming from the personality of the player. Then add dialog quirks to the list.

Examples of dialog quirks:

Ends sentence with “eh?” or “yeah?”Stops mid-sentence… and then continues.A slight stutter when nervous.Has “valley girl” tendencies. “You know what I mean?”Has a favorite cliché.

Now go through your screenplay and VERY SPARINGLY add the tags you’ve chosen to the appropriate dialog and action blocks. Don’t expect to use your entire list of mannerisms and quirks. If you sprinkle so many tags on your work that a reader might notice the gimmick, that’s too much. You’re goal is to create a very subtle, seasoning effect with this technique. Keep a low profile and don’t get caught at it. Some folks may tell you that this technique is verboten because it violates the “don’t direct on the page” rule. Should that happen to you, explain your studied position on the subject thusly:

“Rules? Rules? I don’t need no stinkin’ rules!”

Then shake your head in disgust, turn, and walk away without another word. (That’s one of my “tags.” The corny use of well known but misquoted movie lines.)

* * *

Tip #9 - Turn up the heat!

Another old saying from the screenwriting trade:

“Conflict plays!”

And truer words were never spoken!

With that in mind, “turn up the heat”, by maximizing the conflict in each and every scene. Even before the conflict between protagonist and antagonist begins, writing characters at cross purposes can add dramatic tension to a scene.

For example, suppose there’s a scene in the early pages of your screenplay wherein the protagonist, a cop, is questioning a shopkeeper he believes was a witness to a violent crime.

A scene before conflict tweaking.

INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT

Kevin questions the CLERK, an attractive woman in her mid-twenties.

KEVINYou saw the incident from start tofinish?

CLERKI only caught the end of it. Iheard the shouting, but by the timeI got to the window and lookedoutside, the boy with thedreadlocks was already down onthe ground.

KEVINThat’s when you called nine-one-one?

CLERKYes, sir.

KEVINDid you get a good look at the boy’s assailant?

CLERKI did. He was a white boy. Maybeseventeen of eighteen... blondhair... probably bleached.

###

The same scene after conflict tweaking.

INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT

Kevin questions the CLERK, a tough looking young man with a teardrop tattoo under his left eye.

The clerk’s attention is divided between Kevin and the baseball game playing on the little TV set up on a shelf behind the counter.

KEVINI assume you witnessed the incident.

CLERKYou assume wrong.

KEVINYou saw nothing?

CLERKLike I told the cop last night, Ididn’t see shit.

KEVINThere’s a fight outside your front door, and you weren’t even curious?

The baseball game heats up and gets even more of the clerk’s attention.

KEVINI’m talking to you!

CLERKI mind my own business.

With a swipe of his arm, Kevin knocks a display of miniatures from the counter to the floor.

CLERKHey, man!

Kevin finally has the clerk’s undivided attention.

KEVINThe kid was D.O.A. at the hospital.And I know damn well you know more than you’re saying.

Kevin raises his arm as if to wreack more havoc on the counter displays.

CLERKAlright! I went to the window when IHeard the shouting.

KEVINAnd...

CLERKThe punk with the baseball bat who beat that kid… he was white... blond hair... maybe eighteen or nineteen. Surfer type.

###

In the first example, the clerk is entirely on the cop’s side. They have the same agenda… to catch the bad guy. There’s no conflict and no dramatic tension. In the rewrite, we turned the heat up by putting the two characters at cross-purposes. Kevin wants to get information that will help him solve the case. The shopkeeper has no love for cops and wants to stonewall. By giving Kevin and the shopkeeper crossed purposes, we added conflict and dramatic tension to the scene.

In every scene of your screenplay each of the players has their own agenda. Writing characters so their agendas oppose each other is an effective way to add conflict and dramatic tension to what might otherwise be a bland scene.

* * *

Tip #10 - Make it personal!

This last tip is something of a well kept secret. Very little has been written about the subject, even though a good understanding of this rather simple principle is essential to making a screen story work. And by “work”, I mean able to suck the reader into the story, and later as a film, suck the audience in.

This one’s all about audience and protagonist bonding. I call it “the connection factor.”

Here’s a football analogy, which I believe clearly demonstrates the importance of the connection factor.

PRO FOOTBALL GAME NUMBER ONE

Scenario:You have no connection to either team or their respective quarterbacks.

Outcome:No connection = No interest = Not sucked in.Worry-over-the-outcome factor? You’re not engaged at all, a “1” on a scale of 1 to 10.Post-game emotional reaction, regardless of which team wins = a big yawn.

PRO FOOTBALL GAME NUMBER TWO

Scenario:You've followed this quarterback over the years. He’s a noble soul, and a good man. His father died last week. There was some question as to whether or not he would be a starter, but in the end he decided to play, because his dad would have wanted it that way. He’s dedicating the game to his dad.

Outcome:Good connection = Good interest = Somewhat sucked in. Worry-over-the-outcome factor? You’re well-engaged, a “5” on a scale of 1 to 10. Post game emotional reaction after the narrow win = a little adrenalin, and a fist pump.

PRO FOOTBALL GAME NUMBER THREE

Scenario:The quarterback is your son. The regular quarterback and his backup are both out with injuries. This is your boy's first start as a pro in a regular season game. The press is all over him. His team is a twenty-one point underdog against last year’s Super Bowl winners. Yikes!

Outcome:Super-strong connection = Super-strong interest = Entirely, edge-of-your-seat, sucked in!Worry-over-the-outcome factor? You’re fully engaged, a “10” on a scale of 1 to 10. Post game emotional reaction after the narrow win or even a good effort = a major adrenalin rush and perhaps a spontaneous little dance!

Obviously, the greater the connection factor, the greater the emotional response.

If you take a look back over your movie-going history, you’ll no doubt be able to recall a few films in which this connection factor was particularly high… ROCKY, for instance. Recalling films with very low connection factors is far more difficult for the obvious reason.

In tip number one of this E-book we examined the idea of a through-line expressed as a central dramatic question and observed that it’s largely the audience’s desire to know how the central dramatic question will eventually be answered that keeps them interested. But what if the audience to protagonist connection factor is so low that they don’t care what happens to the protagonist, whether he lives or dies, wins or loses? They won’t care how, or even if the central dramatic question is answered. A weak connection factor can leave a story dead in the water.

How can we cause the reader/audience to bond with the protagonist and make them care? How do we create a strong connection factor? The first task in the process is getting the audience to accept the protagonist as a living, breathing human being… just like them. The techniques for accomplishing this task are simple enough:

Technique #1 - Have your protagonist experience emotional reactions and physical sensations that the audience has experienced and therefore can relate to.

The ability to experience or feel things on a physical and emotional level is what separates the animate (life) from the inanimate. (everything else) Thus, if within the context of our setup, we have our protagonist experience and feel things that we’ve all experienced and felt, he or she comes alive in the eyes of our reader/audience. Unpleasant experiences and reactions work best as they also engender sympathy, which promotes audience bonding in a different way.

Examples of physical things we’ve all experienced as human beings:

PAIN – A paper cut, a toothache, a blow, a fall, sunburn, any physical injury no matter how small.

DISCOMFORT – Caught in the rain with no coat, new shoes that don’t fit, a rash, too hot or cold.

Examples of emotional reactions that everyone has experienced at one time or another:

FEAR – By reason of an imminent danger.

LOSS – Of anything from car keys, to a pet, to a loved one.

ANXIETY OR NERVOUSNESS – In reaction to a perceived threat to their status quo or self-image.

SELF-DOUBT OR SHYNESS – When challenged by events to grow in some way.

HATES/DISLIKES – The protagonist hates Brussels sprouts and dislikes his brother-in-law.

Technique #2 - Endow your protagonist with character traits that exemplify what it means to be an honorable human being or a “real man.” (Or woman.)

Examples:

SELF-SACRIFICE – Puts own interests on the line for the good of another or others. Anything from diving on a grenade to offering one’s coat to a stranger.

PERSONAL INTEGRITY – Stands up for self and own beliefs, and doesn’t cave in when a compromise with their moral or ethical principles would be an easy way out.

PERSISTANCE – Doesn’t give up no matter what!

Once the audience/reader accepts your protagonist as human, the next task is getting the reader/audience to bond with them.

First the theory behind the approach:

Sadly we don’t live in a fair world, and we never will. Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to bad people. Random, weird, and even insane things happen for no discernable reason. Audiences and readers, try as they might, cannot deny that the above is observably true in real life. But real life is not what folks pay their ten bucks to see on the silver screen.

Audiences and readers generally insist upon fairness in the world of a screen story. Good things must come to good people. Hard work must have a pay-off. Persistence must be rewarded.

Audiences want the world of the story to be one in which logic rules, and all affects have understandable causes. They fully expect that in the end the protagonist and the antagonist will get what’s coming to them, good, bad, or indifferent. If we don’t give them what they want in this regard, they may become righteously angry with us... not with our characters… with us! I still haven’t forgiven Aron Sorkin for killing off Miss Landingham in the West Wing series!

Let’s call this idea “karma balance.”

Now consider these two very different story setups.

SCENARIO #1 Johnny is a rich kid. He’s led a pampered life. He works hard, gets good grades, goes to an Ivy League school, overcomes lots of obstacles and is destined to someday become a highly paid exec in his father’s company.

SCENARIO #2 Young Johnny lost his loving dad at a very young age, and got in his place, a drunken stepfather who routinely beats him for no good reason. When he protests the stepdad kicking his dog, Johnny is beaten and thrown out on the street. He and his little dog are now on their own. Johnny’s a really good kid, and he wants to somehow fend for himself and not become part of the foster care system.

In which of these two stories would you be more likely to connect with and root for the protagonist? No contest, right? The key is that in the second scenario, we threw Johnny’s “karma balance” way out of whack by loading the poor kid up with undeserved misfortune.

Undeserved misfortune is the entirety of this technique!

Consider all the unearned hardship we subjected our protagonist to in the second scenario.

Johnny lost his dad as a boy. We gave him an evil stepfather. We made him suffer physical and emotional abuse.He’s kicked out of the house, unloved and homeless while still a teen.

Sheesh! Is this kid’s karma out of balance, or what? And won’t we all be delighted at the end of act 3 when Johnny wins big and the stepfather gets run over by a truck!

The protagonist may also build “karma credit” during act 2, as in pursuit of his goal, he continually gets pushed two steps back for every step forward… another form of undeserved misfortune.

Yes, there have been successful films that turn the karma balance thing upside down with a dark ending, but they are few and far between.

It takes some skill to integrate these techniques seamlessly into a story, but when done well, the audience can’t help themselves. They will bond with the protagonist even if the protagonist isn’t that loveable a person. Their natural human need/desire for karma balance compels them. Remember the film, AS GOOD AS IT GETS?

# # #

A Note From the Author

Interested in my rewrite services? Send me your screenplay. If I think I can kick it up a notch or two for you, I’ll rewrite a few sample pages at no charge and quote you a price for a full edit/polish or rewrite. My email is: screenplayrewrite@earthlink.netOr visit my website: screenplayrewrite.com .

My only business is helping others realize the full potential inherent in their original screen story vision.

Jim Kalergis June 10, 2012