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Advanced Track: Rewrite by Paul Chitlik (July 2008)
Professional screenwriters know that the rewriting process is what separates the money-makers from the neophytes. If you're writing a spec, you don't want to show it to anyone until it's in the best condition it could possibly be. You want to put everything you know into it. You want it to be the best example of your skill as a writer, and you want it to have the most impact it can have. This illustrated, step-by-step guide shows the process of re-writing and why it is so essential.
About Paul Chitlik:
Screenwriter/producer/director Paul Chitlik has written for all the major networks and studios. He was story editor for The New Twilight Zone, and staff writer for Showtime's Brothers. He has written features for Rysher Entertainment, NuImage, Promark, and others. He received a WGA award nomination for his work on The Twilight Zone, a GLAAD Media Award nomination, and won a Genesis Award for a Showtime movie. He has taught screenwriting at UCLA, Loyola Marymount University, and ESCAC, the film school of the University of Barcelona.
Reel Book Club members save 20% on Rewrite when purchased from The Writers Store.
Read by date: July 31st, 2008
Author participation date: August 5th, 2008
Hello Fellow Readers,
I had to fight my fellow writers at Writers Store for this moderating job because we are all such fans of the book. This is the Save the Cat of rewriting books. It's easy to understand and light on the paper, which is always good when you have scripts to read and write.
My favorite sections cover the following topics: clarifying the various layers of structure, rewriting for theme, and cutting the fat from description ten percent at a time.
Does anyone have questions or comments about Rewrite at this point?
Paul will be joining us on August 5th to answer questions and, possibly, share something useful that didn't make the book's final draft.
In the meantime, I'll do my best to answer any and all questions about this new and empowering title.
Let the discussion begin!
Had a little trouble figuring out how to sign in - apparently you can't do it from Firefox - but I'm here now and ready for questions. Let me know if you've found anything in the book that's unclear or confusing. Let me know if you've encountered a problem I didn't discuss.
PC
Some of my students this summer are having a lot of trouble and may be suffering from the Imposter Syndrome, or IS. Yes, we get to that point in the film where we suddenly lose faith in the characters, the story, in our own abilities to write. Normal. For all writers, professionals and otherwise. We just don't know if it's good anymore, if the idea ever was good, or if we have any clue at all about how to write it.
Welcome to the club.
And what made us think we could ever be writers, anyway?
Let me tell you, there are plenty of executives who will browbeat you on this one, too. One told me and my writing partner at the time that the freelance episode we had done for his syndicated comedy was the best script he'd ever seen for the show. In front of his staff! He gave us another assignment. When we got notes, it started out like this: "Guys, guys, guys. What made you think you were professional writers?" Later, the staff told us it was his mind game. (BTW, he gave us a contract for three more episodes after that! Unheard of.)
So don't play the mind game on yourselves. Yes, you may be in a hole, but you'll get out of there. It may take a little while, but writing doesn't pay by the hour (even when it pays). If you've lost your way, go back to the character study, go to the flaw, go to the premise, go to the 7 points and refresh your memory. What's making me write this? What do I want to say? How is the protagonist going to get herself out of this fix?
And ask me questions until you get the answer (I'll probably turn around and ask you questions).
You'll get there, believe me.
PC
Hi Paul,
Some professionals are saying I should re-write my first first to third page.
I tried re-writing it, but found it frustrating and difficult.
What should I do?
The script is called "Dance Desire Violence".
Here is page 1-3. Looking forward to your comment.
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.
.
.
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Early morning. Fog. The Brooklyn Bridge is barely visible.
No one in sight along the riverbank.
Forgotten bench. Telephone booth.
A woman, motionless, in silhouette, now sitting on that bench, overlooking the bridge.
MICHAEL
(v.o.)
She wanted a baby. I was waiting, not for a baby. But for my dance studio, to own it, my own space. I wasn't lost, that's not my style, I don't get lost. We were lost together. She was more important than my father. She was our teacher. An angel. A beautiful dancer. She would of been a great mother. Her name was Serena Bianchi...
The fog moves away revealing the towering Brooklyn Bridge. It starts to rain heavily. Lightning. The lady gets up, standing in the rain, staring out into the lake.
MICHAEL
(v.o.)
And that summer, we all had -- dance, desire, violence.
Suddenly, it stops raining. Deafening silence. The lady walks away.
Faint dance music in the background.
SUPER -- New York, 1977
INT. DANCE STUDIO - NIGHT
Glimmering purse on top of a metal chair. Next to the purse, an opened transparent pill bottle, half full.
At the back, dance steps on an overworked wooden dance floor. Her shoes -- overused but strong. His shoes -- expensive, spotless.
He dances away from her. A professional dancer type - 40s, Latino, fit, greasy hair. With the eyes and smile of a hard-core pervert.
He returns and slides into her, grabs her by the hip, looks into her eyes -- SERENA BIANCHI -- 30, sexy, gentle, chic summer fashion. She's not going to get the crown for Miss World for her irresistible package, but runner up for sure.
They dance, nice and easy, nothing fancy.
EXT. DOWNTOWN - NEW YORK - NIGHT
Bright lights, big city. Hot summer night.
EXT./INT. HELICOPTER - MOVING - NIGHT
Pilot, looking over downtown.
At the back -- TONI -- early 30s, black suit, unshaven, scruffy hair, unkempt fashion, massaging his fingers. VINCENT -- late 30s, black suit, jelled hair, good looking and neat to a terrifying perfection. Next to Toni's feet is black gym bag. In it, a sledge-hammer and a power saw.
Vincent takes out a high-priced camera and zooms in on one the windows of a building -- CLICK, CLICK -- Serena and the Latino Guy, dancing, intimate.
The helicopter circles and then ascends.
PILOT
(looking down at the rooftop)
Are you sure you wanna land? I don't think this roof is designed for this.
VINCENT
Land it!
PILOT
I can't do this, I need to get clearance.
TONI
Land it or else I'm gonna land your
fuckin' head on that roof.
PILOT
I seen it happen before, it could cave.
TONI
LAND THE FUCKIN' HELICOPTER.
Pilot hurries.
EXT. TOP OF BUILDING - NIGHT
Helicopter lands. Vincent and Toni exit.
INT. DANCE STUDIO - 30TH FLOOR - NIGHT
Serena and the Latino, deep into a steamy/dirty dance. He hugs her from the back and gently grinds into her and smells her neck,hair. She starts to moan. In control, he feels and squeezes her breast, ass, hip.
Suddenly, the front door is kicked open.
They stop dancing.
Toni enters, carrying the black gym bag. Followed by Vincent holding a gun with an attached silencer.
The Latino dancer slowly moves away from Serena as if he knows he's not suppose to be this intimate.
Toni shoots the cassette player -- smoke, spark. He then shoots the Latino dancer in the chest, dropping him.
Serena, closes her eyes, seconds from crying. Toni walks over and shoots the almost dead body a few more times in the chest -- blood-splattering-sculpturing mess.
As she opens her eyes, she sees Vincent putting his gun away and Toni staring at her coldly.
She moves to the metal chair, grabs the pill container, puts the lid on and throws it into her purse. She digs around, finds a cigarette pack. Hand trembling, she lights up, avoiding eye contact with them.
SERENA
Why did you kill him, you
could of asked him to leave.
TONI
Just take your shit and get
the fuck out of here, it's not your fuckin' business how we run our business.
VINCENT
Toni, careful how you talk to her.
Vincent walks over to Serena.
VINCENT
Mrs. Bianchi, you know Sydney doesn't like this thing you're doing. You're his wife. He has plans for you. For all of us. He doesn't need a whore as a wife. How many times has he told you, get a new hobby. Rent a musical, it's safer.
SERENA
We were only dancing.
VINCENT
Serena, just go home.
Before leaving, she glances at the dead body resting on a pool of blood.
VINCENT
And be careful driving home, there's some rumor going around that New York has a serial killer. I would drive you home Mrs. Bianchi,but we got things to do, you know.
She looks out the window into the parking lot, fearful. Sound of distant sirens.
Quickly, she turns, eyes straining, looks around the studio, as if she hears something.
FRENCH VOICE
(ghostly, v.o.)
Americans. You pigs.
Another voice echoes...
WISEGUYS VOICE
(raspy, v.o.)
Keep it stupid dummies. You guys don't know how to kill.
She looks up, does not know where the voices are coming from. She touches her sweaty forehead, headache.
VINCENT
Mrs. Bianchi, are you allright.
SERENA
I'm fine.
FRENCH VOICE
(v.o.)
City of pigs.
WISEGUY VOICE
(v.o.)
Places to hide, no one will find me.
TONI
She'll be fine, just tell her to lock the doors and don't stop for anyone.
EXT. SAME BUILDING - ELEVATOR LOBBY - NIGHT
Serena, hand crossed waiting, spaced out.
BACK TO STUDIO
Toni takes out a pair of latex glove from the black gym bag.
Vincent pulls down the blinds.
EXT. ELEVATOR AREA - SAME BUILDING - NIGHT
Serena, in the corner, terrified, she slides down, crying. Intense brooding/breathing as if there is an imaginary monster teasing her. The elevator opens. She gets up and runs in.
INT. ELEVATOR - MOVING - NIGHT
Her arms crossed, quivering. Face, crowded with more sweat. Hand shaking, she looks at her watch -- 11:00 PM.
INT. SERENA'S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT
Downtown New York. Neon spectacular. Busy.
Spaced out, she turns on the radio. Dance music comes on. As the dance music ends...
RADIO HOST
I hope this track lifted your mood folks. One blow after another, it keeps coming, but we are unbreakable, right New Yorkers. First, the worst BLACK-OUT in our history and now we're all afraid to leave our home at night. Our Chief of Police has scheduled a news conference tomorrow morning to confirm that we have a serial killer on our hand.
Serena turns off the radio. She pushes a cassette in -- catchy disco music comes on. More relaxed, swaying to the beat. She reaches a red light, looks at her watch again.
All of a sudden, all the street lights and building lights go off.
SERENA
My God.
She stares out into the night, frozen.
Drawn-out honking, swearing from frustrated drivers, tire screeching and auto collision resonates into the night.
Then all lights come on.