MAKING A SCREENPLAY

Since I was able to easily visualize the characters—all based on real people I’d known—their descriptions and dialogue all flowed perfectly easily. I’d written most of the good stuff while sitting in the auditorium at Hunter College where I used the room full of screenwriting energy to speed me along.

What I did was to copy down what I remembered about what happened. There were a lot of things, of course, that didn’t translate from reality into the form of a screenplay. Because the people were so completely real to me, I felt I had to be true to their stories as real people. Because of this, I found that I had written separate stories for some of the characters, which didn’t lend themselves to the production of any sort of traditional movie.

What I had was a story line between the main characters that didn’t include many of the other exciting elements I’d experienced during my time spent in the war in Vietnam. I became stuck. I had all these wonderful sub plots which, in reality, didn’t fit together.

So I talked to Phil Meyer. Phil, who lived across the street from my mother, was the only person I knew at the time who had actually written a screenplay. (Since then, I’ve met at least a dozen or more!)

Phil invited me over to his house to talk. He talked me through his own optioned but not-yet-produced screenplay (something I vaguely remember was about hamburgers). He may not have been a terrific screenwriter but his advice was what saved me: "You don’t have to tell the truth," he told me. "You’re writing fiction!" This, believe it or not, was something I’d never even considered.

Phil’s advice saved me: I realized I could make stuff up!

Combining this radical idea with McKee’s teaching of making the story a "universal truth" set me back on the path and allowed me to finish my screenplay. I was happier, as they say, than a pig in shit. So, once again, I was on entrance ramp at least, to the highway to Hollywood.

I’d left the Bob McKee course with a copy of "Casablanca" in hand, which taught me the "form," more or less. But even after I’d finished typing it, it still seemed sloppy. It didn’t look like Cassablanca.

But, even after that, I don’t remember how long it took— I’d guess at least a year or more— before I got my story to look the way a finished screenplay should look. It wasn’t until I had the very professional Randi Ross, put it in proper form with character, dialogue, screen description, etc. where they should be, that I felt confident enough to send it out. But finally, there was the finished product: three hole punched, within cardboard covers, and registered with the Writers Guild. Suddenly I really felt I was truly cruising on the road—now, the freeway—to Hollywood.

(to be continued)