Archive for the 'Script Coverage' Category

#8) To make sure your script is readable

Many screenwriters write in a vacuum.  They have nobody giving them feedback or insight on their scripts, ever.  Or, they solicit what feedback they can from friends and family, who may know little about the mechanics and art of screenwriting.  You may think you’re the greatest screenwriter in the world, (and you very well may be!) but remember – You’re not writing your script so that you can take it into a dark room, lock it away from the rest of the world, and read it to yourself for the rest of your life.  You’re writing your screenplay with the hopes that it will eventually be made into a film, so that the entire world can see it.  Your job as a screenwriter is to COMMUNICATE TO AN AUDIENCE, not to keep your script a secret while you pat yourself on the back and tell yourself how talented you are.  So get it out there in front of people and see if your script is readable.  A qualified script reader reads many scripts per week, and has a vast expertise in what separates a readable script from an unreadable script.

#7) To catch any glaring formatting errors, spelling errors, punctuation, etc.

This alone is worth the price of a script coverage.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sent out scripts that are missing an entire paragaph, or have “their” and “there” mixed up in one sentence because I didn’t play close attention to the spellcheck.  Many veteran screenwriters still send out scripts that have glaring punctuation, grammar, and spelling errors, and it’s not helping their script any.  Not to mention, it’s unacceptable and completely unprofessional to send out a script which isn’t formatted in the proper film industry screenplay format.  If you’re a first time screenwriter, getting script coverage can be a much-needed cold splash of water in the face to make sure you’re making your script look as professional and as error-free as possible.

#6) To give you insight on how an anonymous script reader would react to your script

So you’re finally ready to send out your gross-out comedy script to agencies and producers.  Awesome!  Let’s say you’ve sent out 20 of them to various places across Hollywood.  Now let’s say only ONE of your scripts gets opened and placed on some assistant’s desk.  (And 1 out of 20 ain’t a bad success rate!)   But uh-oh, the assistant whose desk your script landed on isn’t into gross-out comedies.

But as a screenwriter, submitting out to agencies and producers, you have no idea who’s throwing your script away and who’s reading it, let alone what kind of scripts your reader prefers!  But let’s say you DID know that your gross-out comedy was sent to 20 agencies, and knew that of those 20, 19 of them were thrown in the trash, and then also knew that ONE of those agencies actually opened it.  Now imagine you  have a choice:  (A) Tell them “Don’t read it!”  Because the script reader doesn’t like gross-out comedies, or (B) Have the script reader who doesn’t like gross-out comedies read it anyway.  Of COURSE you’d choose B.  ANY CHANCE of having your script get read and liked is better than NO CHANCE AT ALL.

So that means your script has to be ready for anything, including the reader who may not have a predilection for your script’s genre.  When you get your script covered before you send it out, you see how an anonymous reader would react to your script.  Maybe they like your genre, maybe they don’t.  The true value in the script coverage is the insight you get from having your script get covered in as close-to-real-world circumstances as possible, which includes not necessarily being paired up with a reader who is predisposed to your particular writing style, or your particular script’s genre.

#5)  To read your script’s synopsis, as written by a total stranger

As I mentioned earlier, a typical script coverage will include a synopsis.  This is a brief summary of your script, from page 1 to THE END.  As a screenwriter, I find it massively helpful to read the synopses of my scripts, as written from total strangers.  I discover that entire story beats can be completely missed, entire sections of the script don’t make sense to the reader because they missed a certain part, or glossed over it too fast.  I use these opportunities to go back and double- and triple-ensure that the next draft of the script is SUPER CLEAR on these specific weak spots.  It’s not the reader’s job to make the script make sense.  It’s the screenwriter’s.  And if you can use their synopsis of your script as a way to strengthen your script, you’ve already gotten your money’s worth from your script coverage.

#4) To make sure your characters are likeable

You might spend a few months writing your script, or a few years, and fall completely in love with all the characters in it.  Or maybe you just fall in love with your lead.  Either way, a script reader isn’t going to spend a year with these characters, watching them get molded and sculpted into what they are.  She’s only going to read them as you have them NOW, on the page.  So whereas you might like your characters, or even love them, a script reader doing script coverage on your screenplay might not feel the same way.  Your job is to get those characters to be likeable to the totally fresh, totally new-to-your-script screenplay reader.

#3) Make sure your dialogue reads true.

One thing all script readers pick up on is the quality of your script’s dialogue.  You could have the greatest, most original story in the world, but if your dialogue lags, that’s the first thing a script reader will point out in your coverage.  Some script readers are more specific, including the page and sentence where your dialogue falls flat; others are more vague.  But if your dialogue doesn’t POP for a script reader, you know it’s not going to POP for an agent or producer.  Use their critique of your dialogue to spruce up your dialogue and make it sizzle.  Shorten it, tighten it, tweak it, slap it around.  Having a script reader nail you on dialogue in your script coverage should be looked at as an awesome opportunity to improve your screenplay.

#2) To make sure your screenplay has enough conflict

Conflict is the lifeblood of any good movie script.  And script readers know it.  Getting script coverage from a professional script reader is a great way to make sure that your script’s stakes are high enough.  Is your hero more powerful than your villain?  Then there’s no conflict!  A good script reader will include in his coverage that your conflict could use some beefing up.  Without conflict, there is no tension.  Where there is no tension, there is no interest from the audience.

#1) To see where an anonymous script reader thinks your script ranks, relative to similar scripts or films

Script readers who do script coverage on a regular basis read tons of scripts.  TONS.  And they see tons of movies.  They generally have a vast background in all things cinema, and share a massive passion for the movies.  So they can tell you where your film falls, relative to other films who may be similar.  And that can be a valuable tool to make sure that your script isn’t unwittingly copying or lifting another film’s story, characters, or elements.  Script coverage catches unoriginality before you get egg on your face by sending it to an agent.  A good screenwriter would love to have the ability to make a tweak or two to her script if she found out she’d unwittingly written a story beat that apparently plagiarized another film.  We’re all human and this is bound to happen, but by getting your script covered before you send it out, you stand a chance of catching these unintentional gaffes.

There you have it.  The top 8 reasons why all screenwriters should get their script covered before sending it out to agents and producers.  Think of script coverage as a way to quickly get a “read” on your script to make sure you’re not making any glaring goofs, OR you can think of it as just one of many steps on the road to making your script the tightest, most awesome script it’s destined to be.

What the heck is script coverage?  Script coverage is basically a brief memo, written by a studio, agency, or production company which acts as a sort of “book report” for your script.  Script readers who are low on the totem pole usually read your script, then write a 2-3 page “script coverage” and then pass that script coverage up to their boss.  Many studio executives, agents, and producers don’t have time to read the entire stack of scripts they’ve got piling up, so they only read the coverages, which saves them time.  Then, based on how well your script does in the script coverage, the executive would then read your script.

A script coverage usually consists of three sections (A) A section listing the information about the screenplay, such as author name, page count, genre, title of the script, etc., (B) A synopsis section, where the script reader writes a brief 1-2 page synopsis of your script, and (C) A comments section, where the script readers writes her thoughts on where the screenplay goes right, and where it needs work, with regards to character, dialogue, format, plot, pacing, originality, budget, setting, you name it.  And then finally, there’s three general ratings a script reader gives a script when she covers it:  RECOMMEND (the highest rating, meaning that the script reader recommends this script to be read by her boss), CONSIDER (the middle rating, meaning that the script reader feels there are some good elements in the script, or that the script could use some improvement), and PASS (the lowest rating, meaning that the script reader feels that the script needs a lot of work in its current draft).

And usually, you never know that your script got read, let alone covered.  And almost NEVER will you be allowed to see the coverage that some agent’s assistant or associate producer wrote about your script.

But now you can get your own script coverage BEFORE you send your script out to an agent or producer.

A script coverage from a company like my company Screenplay Readers, can be a hugely valuable “sneak preview” into the world of potential readers, agents, and producers that awaits your script.

http://screenplayreaders.com

Other places that do script coverage:

http://www.scriptswami.com/

http://www.scriptshark.com/script-coverage.html

http://www.jamiesteinscripts.com/services.html

We read a lot of scripts over at Screenplay Readers, but we’re supposed to.  It’s our job.  Consider this humorous take on reading your friends’ scripts by A History of Violence screenwriter Josh Olson, reposted from the Village Voice.  Note:  Josh Olson is in no way associated with Screenplay Readers.

I will not read your fucking script.

That’s simple enough, isn’t it? “I will not read your fucking script.” What’s not clear about that? There’s nothing personal about it, nothing loaded, nothing complicated. I simply have no interest in reading your fucking screenplay. None whatsoever.

If that seems unfair, I’ll make you a deal. In return for you not asking me to read your fucking script, I will not ask you to wash my fucking car, or take my fucking picture, or represent me in fucking court, or take out my fucking gall bladder, or whatever the fuck it is that you do for a living.

You’re a lovely person. Whatever time we’ve spent together has, I’m sure, been pleasurable for both of us. I quite enjoyed that conversation we once had about structure and theme, and why Sergio Leone is the greatest director who ever lived. Yes, we bonded, and yes, I wish you luck in all your endeavors, and it would thrill me no end to hear that you had sold your screenplay, and that it had been made into the best movie since Godfather Part II.

But I will not read your fucking script.

At this point, you should walk away, firm in your conviction that I’m a dick. But if you’re interested in growing as a human being and recognizing that it is, in fact, you who are the dick in this situation, please read on.

Yes. That’s right. I called you a dick. Because you created this situation. You put me in this spot where my only option is to acquiesce to your demands or be the bad guy. That, my friend, is the very definition of a dick move.

I was recently cornered by a young man of my barest acquaintance.

I doubt we’ve exchanged a hundred words. But he’s dating someone I know, and he cornered me in the right place at the right time, and asked me to read a two-page synopsis for a script he’d been working on for the last year. He was submitting the synopsis to some contest or program, and wanted to get a professional opinion.

Now, I normally have a standard response to people who ask me to read their scripts, and it’s the simple truth: I have two piles next to my bed. One is scripts from good friends, and the other is manuscripts and books and scripts my agents have sent to me that I have to read for work. Every time I pick up a friend’s script, I feel guilty that I’m ignoring work. Every time I pick something up from the other pile, I feel guilty that I’m ignoring my friends. If I read yours before any of that, I’d be an awful person.

Most people get that. But sometimes you find yourself in a situation where the guilt factor is really high, or someone plays on a relationship or a perceived obligation, and it’s hard to escape without seeming rude. Then, I tell them I’ll read it, but if I can put it down after ten pages, I will. They always go for that, because nobody ever believes you can put their script down once you start.

But hell, this was a two page synopsis, and there was no time to go into either song or dance, and it was just easier to take it. How long can two pages take?

Weeks, is the answer.

And this is why I will not read your fucking script.

It rarely takes more than a page to recognize that you’re in the presence of someone who can write, but it only takes a sentence to know you’re dealing with someone who can’t.

(By the way, here’s a simple way to find out if you’re a writer. If you disagree with that statement, you’re not a writer. Because, you see, writers are also readers.)

You may want to allow for the fact that this fellow had never written a synopsis before, but that doesn’t excuse the inability to form a decent sentence, or an utter lack of facility with language and structure. The story described was clearly of great importance to him, but he had done nothing to convey its specifics to an impartial reader. What I was handed was, essentially, a barely coherent list of events, some connected, some not so much. Characters wander around aimlessly, do things for no reason, vanish, reappear, get arrested for unnamed crimes, and make wild, life-altering decisions for no reason. Half a paragraph is devoted to describing the smell and texture of a piece of food, but the climactic central event of the film is glossed over in a sentence. The death of the hero is not even mentioned. One sentence describes a scene he’s in, the next describes people showing up at his funeral. I could go on, but I won’t. This is the sort of thing that would earn you a D minus in any Freshman Comp class.

Which brings us to an ugly truth about many aspiring screenwriters: They think that screenwriting doesn’t actually require the ability to write, just the ability to come up with a cool story that would make a cool movie. Screenwriting is widely regarded as the easiest way to break into the movie business, because it doesn’t require any kind of training, skill or equipment. Everybody can write, right? And because they believe that, they don’t regard working screenwriters with any kind of real respect. They will hand you a piece of inept writing without a second thought, because you do not have to be a writer to be a screenwriter.

So. I read the thing. And it hurt, man. It really hurt. I was dying to find something positive to say, and there was nothing. And the truth is, saying something positive about this thing would be the nastiest, meanest and most dishonest thing I could do. Because here’s the thing: not only is it cruel to encourage the hopeless, but you cannot discourage a writer. If someone can talk you out of being a writer, you’re not a writer. If I can talk you out of being a writer, I’ve done you a favor, because now you’ll be free to pursue your real talent, whatever that may be. And, for the record, everybody has one. The lucky ones figure out what that is. The unlucky ones keep on writing shitty screenplays and asking me to read them.

To make matters worse, this guy (and his girlfriend) had begged me to be honest with him. He was frustrated by the responses he’d gotten from friends, because he felt they were going easy on him, and he wanted real criticism. They never do, of course. What they want is a few tough notes to give the illusion of honesty, and then some pats on the head. What they want–always–is encouragement, even when they shouldn’t get any.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to tell someone that they’ve spent a year wasting their time? Do you know how much blood and sweat goes into that criticism? Because you want to tell the truth, but you want to make absolutely certain that it comes across honestly and without cruelty. I did more rewrites on that fucking e-mail than I did on my last three studio projects.

My first draft was ridiculous. I started with specific notes, and after a while, found I’d written three pages on the first two paragraphs. That wasn’t the right approach. So I tossed it, and by the time I was done, I’d come up with something that was relatively brief, to the point, and considerate as hell. The main point I made was that he’d fallen prey to a fallacy that nails a lot of first timers. He was way more interested in telling his one story than in being a writer. It was like buying all the parts to a car and starting to build it before learning the basics of auto mechanics. You’ll learn a lot along the way, I said, but you’ll never have a car that runs.

(I should mention that while I was composing my response, he pulled the ultimate amateur move, and sent me an e-mail saying, “If you haven’t read it yet, don’t! I have a new draft. Read this!” In other words, “The draft I told you was ready for professional input, wasn’t actually.”)

I advised him that if all he was interested in was this story, he should find a writer and work with him; or, if he really wanted to be a writer, start at the beginning and take some classes, and start studying seriously.

And you know what? I shouldn’t have bothered. Because for all the hair I pulled out, for all the weight and seriousness I gave his request for a real, professional critique, his response was a terse “Thanks for your opinion.” And, the inevitable fallout–a week later a mutual friend asked me, “What’s this dick move I hear you pulled on Whatsisname?”
So now this guy and his girlfriend think I’m an asshole, and the truth of the matter is, the story really ended the moment he handed me the goddamn synopsis. Because if I’d just said “No” then and there, they’d still think I’m an asshole. Only difference is, I wouldn’t have had to spend all that time trying to communicate thoughtfully and honestly with someone who just wanted a pat on the head, and, more importantly, I wouldn’t have had to read that godawful piece of shit.

You are not owed a read from a professional, even if you think you have an in, and even if you think it’s not a huge imposition. It’s not your choice to make. This needs to be clear–when you ask a professional for their take on your material, you’re not just asking them to take an hour or two out of their life, you’re asking them to give you–gratis–the acquired knowledge, insight, and skill of years of work. It is no different than asking your friend the house painter to paint your living room during his off hours.

There’s a great story about Pablo Picasso. Some guy told Picasso he’d pay him to draw a picture on a napkin. Picasso whipped out a pen and banged out a sketch, handed it to the guy, and said, “One million dollars, please.”

“A million dollars?” the guy exclaimed. “That only took you thirty seconds!”

“Yes,” said Picasso. “But it took me fifty years to learn how to draw that in thirty seconds.”

Like the cad who asks the professional for a free read, the guy simply didn’t have enough respect for the artist to think about what he was asking for. If you think it’s only about the time, then ask one of your non-writer friends to read it. Hell, they might even enjoy your script. They might look upon you with a newfound respect. It could even come to pass that they call up a friend in the movie business and help you sell it, and soon, all your dreams will come true. But me?

I will not read your fucking script.

Josh Olson’s screenplay for the film A History of Violence was nominated for the Academy Award, the BAFTA, the WGA award and the Edgar. He is also the writer and director of the horror/comedy cult movie Infested, which Empire Magazine named one of the 20 Best Straight to Video Movies ever made. Recently, he has written with the legendary Harlan Ellison, and worked on Halo with Peter Jackson and Neill Blomkamp. He adapted Dennis Lehane’s story “Until Gwen,” which he will also be directing. He is currently adapting One Shot, one of the best-selling Jack Reacher books for Paramount.

© 2009 Josh Olson. All rights reserved.

If you’re a screenwriter, you already know the deck is stacked against you.  But my point is this:  I don’t think most writers understand how massively and profoundly stacked it really is.

Let’s imagine you’re lucky enough to get your script, somehow, onto the desk of the intern who’s job it is to open mail and sort it into piles.  And let’s imagine for one moment that we live in a world where interns or secretaries at agencies aren’t instructed to hurl into the recyling bin any unsolicited scripts that arrive via the mail, or which are dropped off in person.

Even I’m having difficulty picturing that kind of world, and I’m the one writing this.

But let’s just say your script arrives safely, doesn’t get thrown away, doesn’t get recycled, and actually makes it onto the desk of the intern or the agent’s secretary.

We’ll call this person, the intern or secretary, The Lackey. He’s the lowest on the totem pole.  He just started, either as a receptionist or an intern or a secretary.  He may even be called an assistant, but isn’t really.  He makes copies, answers the phone, opens the mail, and gets coffee.  At an agency, The Lackey’s job is to filter out calls that don’t need to get through to the Assistant.  At a production company, his job might include picking up The Boss’ dry cleaning, taking computers in for repair, buying office supplies, etc.  .  And if the term “Lackey” sounds derogatory, it’s meant to.  Everybody who’s ever worked as a Lackey knows exactly what I mean.  It’s not fun, it’s not glorious, and you are indeed someone’s Lackey.

Above him, is The Assistant. This is the person who’s the last filter before The Boss.  She’s worked as a Lackey, but has tolerated the bullshit long enough to earn the trust of The Boss.  The Assistant at an agency talks to, and pacifies, all of the clients whom the Agent (Boss) doesn’t have time for at that particular moment because The Boss is on the phone with 8 people trying to close a deal for one of and bring in money to keep the Agency or the production company profitable.

The Assistant shadows The Boss, fills in the gaps when The Lackey fails (and he fails a lot), and generally keeps the day-to-day, real-world operations running smoothly at an agency, production company, or studio.

And finally, above The Assistant,  is The Boss. The Boss is the prime mover and motivator.  She’s closing the deals, keeping her eyes on the prize, scouting or packaging talent, putting together deals, going to meetings, and bringing in the work and the paychecks for the company.  They’ve got a much more massive workload than any of us who aren’t Bosses can possibly comprehend.  In the film industry, these Bosses are the real players.  They’re the ones who make movies happen, if they’ve got a competent team of Assistants and Lackeys below them.

Now it’s got to get from that Lackey all the way across the room to The Assistant’s desk.  The assistant’s desk may be on another floor OR it may be 3 feet away.   Either way, The Lackey isn’t going to piss off The Assistant by slapping another script onto The Assistant’s desk.  The Assistant already has a pile of work to do.  She’s returning phone calls for the agent, accepting phone calls for the agent, talking to a client while the agent’s on the line with someone more important, scanning the morning breakdowns for roles they can submit their talent to, or shows or pilots to submit their writers to.

That Lackey figured out how to operate the phones two weeks ago.  (Because nobody with a modicum of intellect and ambition stays a Lackey for long.  And if they do, their job responsibilites end up looking more like those of Assistants anyhow.)

That Lackey, well he’s  been asking stupid question after stupid question of the Assistant ever since he was hired 3 weeks ago.

Questions like:  “Where are the bathrooms?”  “What time can I go to lunch?”  “Which folder do I put shared files in?”  “What’s the password to the server?”  “How come this copier won’t copy on both sides?”  “Why are you guys still using Filemaker Pro?” et cetera.

So here’s the Lackey’s mindset:  His main priority is to shed the “newbie” persona prove to people in that office that they’ve got what it takes. That means they’re going to bug the Assistant as infrequently as possible.  And that means they’re not going bug her just to put an unsolicited, unread, potentially terrible script on her desk.

But, for your sake, aspiring screenwriter of note, let’s imagine for a moment that that Lackey who’s received the script somehow, actually has a mandate to read what he or she likes.  They’ve been given the “authority” by the Boss or the Assistant to read whatever script they like, and to let the Boss or the Assistant know if they find anything great.

This is actually what a lot of savvy Bosses and Assistants do.  They don’t want to miss out on some miraculous new script that would be perfect for their company, or for one of their top actors or directors, so as a matter of policy, they encourage the Lackies to read whatever they like and let someone know if they find anything good.

There’s a slew of self-appointed script “gurus” out there that you’ve never heard of. For $175-$1200 and on up, they’ll provide a screenwriter with their notes, consultations, phone interviews, and whatever else.

On their websites, they pose with their cameras, or in their director chairs, looking quite official and important.

But the truth is, I don’t know any screenwriters out there that can afford to spend $100 on a script coverage, let alone $1200, on anything.

A lot of these script gurus will offer you their advice and council, at a premium rate that no struggling screenwriter can afford.

The bottom line is that if you’re sending a spec script in to any production house, studio, agency, name actor, or producer, 99 times out of 100, the script will be read by an underpaid, underappreciated college intern, receptionist, or junior assistant.

These assistants – generally called script readers – are the gatekeepers to the agents, the producers, the managers, the studios.

They read the script and provide a “script coverage.” A script coverage is basically what amounts to a “book report” of your script: a basic synopsis of the story and a quick review of what they thought of the plot, characters, action, budget level, and more. It’s basically a short, concise set of script feedback, or script notes.

Then in turn, that script coverage gets read by the agent, producer, actor, or manager. Because a script coverage is a lot less to read than a whole script, and these folks have very little free time, or are already reading scripts sent to them with financing, actors, or other talent attached that makes them a priority over your script.

Put simply: If your script doesn’t make it past this one underpaid, underappreciated script reader, and given decent script coverage, it won’t get to the agent or producer.

What we do at Screenplay Readers is provide as close to that real-world reader script coverage experience as possible. Our readers aren’t overpriced, overinflated script gurus. They’re not full-time frustrated screenwriters. They’re not self-help charlatans. They’re real life, regular human beings. Just like you. And just like the real-world script readers at agencies.

So when your script comes in, our readers read and write a script coverage report for it and then we send that script coverage to YOU. So you can see what we think a real-life situation would be like, say, if you submitted it to a producer or an agent.

We provide you that first “litmus test” of your script and tell you, in the short but detailed format of script coverage, where your script goes right and where it could use some attention.

The onus is then on YOU to either utilize our advice in the script feedback we give you in our coverage and make fixes before you submit to an agent, or not.

Most scripts that come in need a LOT of work. But most writers don’t need to spend $1200 to have someone tell them that. Our $59 coverage gives screenwriters more than enough of what they need to know to start to get their scripts in the right direction.

Sure, expensive script notes are more detailed and more specific than script coverages, but what writers can afford them? We offer them as one of our script services, but at a much, much lower rate than anywhere we’ve found.

Don’t let the script consultants and their bloated egos tell you that screenplay coverage doesn’t help.

Sure, coverage reports are different from agency to agency, from production company to production company, as each place may have a different set of coverage standards, or a different way of providing script feedback, or may be looking for a certain type/genre of project at a certain time, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get your script covered.

Put simply, receiving script coverage from Screenplay Readers or any other reputable coverage company is the fastest, most reasonable and affordable way for most screenwriters to get quick script feedback on what’s working and what’s not in their screenplay.

And if you can afford the script gurus, more power to you! Go for it! But I don’t know many screenwriters who can afford rent or their groceries, let alone a $1200 3-hour phone consultation with some no-name, self-appointed script expert, who, if they were such experts, wouldn’t be peddling their expertise online. Have you ever seen an A-list, working screenwriter selling consultation minutes online? We haven’t.

My advice is to look up any of these gurus on http://imdb.com before you spend one dime with an online “script consultant.” Find out what other films have they written or consulted on.

You won’t find Screenplay Readers on the IMDB, but we’re not claiming to be gurus. We’re still in the trenches.

Screenplay Readers is a company of real script readers. Doing real script coverage.

Get your script in the trenches as soon as possible and see if our script feedback helps make it a stronger, more sellable script. Our script coverage service is the first step. And one that won’t break the bank.

Brian
Screenplay Readers