Descripción Flashcards
Vertical writing - leading the eye on the page
Prose writers tend to write horizontally from left to right. Screenwriters write
vertically down the page, which creates a dynamic pace that speeds up the reading. The reason it does is that our eyes are trained to jump to the left side of the
page, for the start of a new sentence, which means new information. To take
advantage of this, screenwriters begin a new sentence in a new line for every new
shot. Every time you imagine a new camera angle with new visuals, you start a
new line of action, no matter how long each line may be. The following example
is a page from the Walter Hill and David Giler draft of Alien, which is a perfect
illustration of vertical writing1
:
LAMBERT
What’s the matter?
KANE
I don’t know… I’m getting cramps.
The others stare at him in alarm.
Suddenly he makes a loud groaning noise.
Clutches the edge of the table with his hands.
Knuckles whitening.
ASH
Breathe deeply.
Kane screams.
KANE
Oh God, it hurts so bad. It hurts. It hurts.
(stands up)
Ooooooh.
BRETT
What is it? What hurts?
Kane’s face screws into a mask of agony.
He falls back into his chair.
KANE
Ohmygooaaaahh.
A red stain.
Then a smear of blood blossoms on his chest.
The fabric of his shirt is ripped apart.
A small head the size of a man’s fist pushes out.
The crew shouts in panic.
Leaps back from the table.
The cat spits, bolts away.
The tiny head lunges forward.
Comes spurting out of Kane’s chest trailing a thick body.
Splatters fluids and blood in its wake.
Lands in the middle of the dishes and food.
Wriggles away while the crew scatters.
Then the alien being disappears from sight.
Kane lies slumped in his chair.
Very dead.
A huge hole in his chest.
Note how each line is a new visual or shot in the reader’s mind. With vertical writing, you never need to write a camera angle, such as INSERT, CLOSE
UP, or ANGLE ON. You’re actually directing the scene by the way you place
your sentences, and controlling the pace by their length. Long sentences feel
like lengthy shots; short sentences, even one word sentences, feel like quick
cuts
Isolate words for virtual close-ups
Isolating a word so it stands out on its own in a line creates an automatic closeup in the reader’s mind and visual impact. In professional scripts, you see many pages like the following, written by Tom Mercer, the 1998 winner of the Screenwriting Group’s Page One Contest. For your benefit, I’ve bolded the close ups:
EXT. AN OLD OIL DERRICK, SOUTH TEXAS - DAY
A barren eyesore. Not a drop of crude pumped since the 80’s. A brisk wind whistles
through the holes of a surrounding chain link fence, as
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
on a hundred dollar bill hits the fence with a wet slap. It is soon joined by others. A few
at a time, then several.
Dead presidents on currency, striking the fence like locusts.
A HANDWRITTEN SIGN - NO TRESPASSING
It violently rocks in the wind, so much it falls off the fence striking the ground.
Where it joins a blood-soaked body.
BENJAMIN CASTILLO
AKA Baby B, the baby-faced LT. CASTILLO of the Laredo Police Dept. Right now, he is
doing a great imitation of a dead guy staring fish-eyed in the blistering midday sun.
The wind licks his body. His tattered jacket bellows in the wind, releasing a chain of
blood soaked money in the air.
An errant bill is lifted in the desert breeze. A fiver. Lincoln looking his usual grim between two crimson drops of blood.
A HAND, well-manicured and feminine, picks it up, and lifts it to a very pretty face of a
WOMAN. She takes in the scent of blood and currency.
WOMAN
I do love the smell of Texas blood money.
Castillo is in no position to argue.
This technique is especially common in action scripts to make action sequences
easier to read, visualize, and understand.
Intra-scene location headings
Making your pages easy to read is a key factor in the overall reader satisfaction. You already know you should avoid camera and other technical directions. There is, however, one technical element you can’t avoid—the slug line, or location heading, such as “INT. RESTAURANT – NIGHT,” which establishes location and time. The problem with slug lines is that too many of them can get in the way of the flow of a scene and can take the reader out of the fictive spell. This is especially a problem if a character moves through a series of locations in a short period, like in a house, moving through several rooms. The amateur writer would write, “INT. MIKE’S HOUSE – BEDROOM – NIGHT,” then as the character moves to another room, “INT. MIKE’S HOUSE –BATHROOM– NIGHT,” and then, “INT. MIKE’S HOUSE –KITCHEN– NIGHT.” The pro would establish Mike’s house with one slug line, then simply keep the other rooms to one word, thus making the reading experience smoother, like in the following example, from 48 Hrs. (Roger Spottiswoode, Walter Hill, Larry Gross, Steven E. DeSouza):
DOORWAY
The portal slams open revealing a man holding a huge pistol, JACK CATES, S.F.P.D., a
large and powerful man… He stealthily moves up a stairwell.
CORRIDOR
He stops at the top of the stairs… Listens, gun still ready. A continuous sound of running
water… Cates moves toward the bathroom. Rips the door open.
BATHROOM
The shape behind the shower curtain freezes. Cates, gun held level, moves forward…
Rips the shower curtain open. Revealing a young and very beautiful woman, ELAINE
MARSHALL.
CATES
Inspector Jack Cates, S.F.P.D. And you’re
wanted.
[scene continues]
BEDROOM
Cates in bed with Elaine. She wears his shirt.
Get specific
More often than not, choosing a concrete detail over a generalization adds impact
to your writing. For instance, if I read in a newspaper that a dog attacked a girl, it’s
not as compelling as a Doberman Pincher that attacked a girl. Which do you see
better? The dog or the Doberman Pincher? A car or a red 2005 Corvette? A gun
or a Smith & Wesson .38? Look at your writing and see where you can be more
specific. The trick is to name things that target any of our five senses. Instead of
“eating ice cream,” you’re now enjoying a “double-fudge Rocky Road with a cherry
on the top.” Look at the following example from The Shawshank Redemption (Frank
Darabont), details in bold:
He opens the glove compartment, pulls out an object wrapped in a rag. He lays it in his
lap and unwraps it carefully –
– revealing a .38 revolver. Oily, black, evil.
EXT. PLYMOUTH - NIGHT (1946)
His wingtip shoes crunch on gravel. Loose bullets scatter to the ground. The bourbon
bottle drops and shatters.
Replace weak words
Remember your basics, how you should avoid verb modifiers and choose
active, dynamic, high-energy verbs that pop off the page? The same goes for
weak, sluggish words that don’t add impact to your narrative. Whenever possible,
replace these flat words with more vivid ones. For example, rather than say, “She
is a mean woman,” write, “She’s a shrew.” Instead of, “He’s a generous and thoughtful man,” try “He’s a saint.” Again, think visual poetry—saying the most
in a vivid way with the least amount of well-chosen words.
Less is more
Most seasoned readers can tell by the end of page one whether a writer is a pro
or an amateur, especially through the writer’s narrative abilities—how competent
he is in evoking vivid images through a limited amount of words. As you saw
earlier, most amateur scripts tend to be overwritten because the writers think
of them the way they think of novels, and thus write highly detailed prose. The
result is a blur of black lines on the page, when “white space” is the ideal (more
on this soon). This is a turnoff for the overworked reader who reads scripts fulltime. Sure, it’s great for novels, but unacceptable for scripts. The bottom line is
that writing a script is more like writing poetry—vivid simplicity, brief and clear.
Every word counts. The less amount of words you use to contain a thought or an
image, the more impact that thought or image will have. This advice is especially
effective when it comes to describing characters and locations, as you’ll see later
in this chapter.
Trim the fat of redundancy
Pablo Picasso once said, “Art is the elimination of the unnecessary.” One way to command attention and convey as much information as possible in as little words as possible is to eliminate unnecessary words and clauses, especially when they’re redundant. For instance, instead of following the maxim “Show, don’t tell,” novice writers often do both—they show and they tell. They tell the reader how the character feels, and then show us the behavior that actually indicates the feeling, like in the following: “Sally is happy. She smiles.” In this case, always choose the behavior over the feeling. Show us; don’t tell us. Every line should contribute to character and plot advancement. If it doesn’t, consider cutting it.
Weave information into the actions and reactions of a
character
Getting information across in a subtle way is another challenge for writers—how
much is enough, when to tell it, and more important, how not to bore the reader
with it. It’s difficult to involve the reader with static description. First, you should
decide whether the information you’re about to describe is essential to the story
or the character. Usually, physical details other than a character’s age are irrelevant to the story, unless they contribute to that character’s unique essence. This
means, we don’t need to know a character’s hairstyle and color, what type of eyes
he has, how tall he is, or what he’s wearing. Next, if a detail is essential to the plot
or the character’s attitude and personality, such as a deformity or the fact that
he’s wearing thick glasses, the solution is to have the character interact with that detail. For example, rather than say, “The apartment is filthy—empty beer cans
everywhere, fast food wrappers, a total mess,” write, “Mike looks for a place to sit,
wipes off empty beer cans and fast food wrappers off the sofa.” The details of the
apartment’s filthiness are embedded in Mike’s actions. This works better because
the reader is focusing on Mike, so the description registers in a more subtle way.
Whenever possible, don’t simply describe things; show a character interacting
with or reacting to them.
White space
If you execute most of the above techniques on the page, it should have what most
readers call “white space,” which is an overall look caused by short paragraphs,
short sentences, virtual close-ups, and no camera directions, as opposed to dense
blocks of black text, which are hard to read. Many readers have told me that before
reading a script, they flip through it to see how much text is on the page. White
space gives them confidence that the read will be fast and easy. Large blocks of
description do not, causing them to choose another script in the pile.
When possible, break your description paragraphs into blocks of one to four
lines maximum to achieve that lean and clean look. And don’t forget to apply any
of the techniques above to command attention on the page.
Always choose active instead of static
The most given piece of advice for beginners is “Show, don’t tell.” Showing is
active; telling is static and flat. Most writers, however, don’t know how to do this
on the page. So here’s the trick, which is worth more than price of this entire
book, in my humble opinion. I say this because when I finally learned this technique, it drastically improved my writing. So here it is:
Always describe something through its actions, rather than tell the
reader about it through adjectives and adverbs. For example, rather than say,
“Sally is happy,” you write, “Sally smiles.” Instead of, “John is nervous,” try, “John
paces back and forth.” Go through your manuscript, and for every adjective you
find, see if you can replace it with an active verb. For everything that is, ask yourself what it does. Use actions that imply the adjectives. Look at your adjectives
that tell and turn them into verbs that show. Instead of “Her eyes are bright,” try, “Her eyes sparkled.” “A loud man” becomes “The man roars.” And “a happy dog”
turns into “The dog wags its tail.”
Look again at the Page One winning page on page 155, and note how the
writer could have easily said, “It’s windy.” But look at what he wrote instead,
which made the description palpable: A brisk wind whistles, a hundred dollar bill hits
the fence with a wet slap, striking the fence like locusts, violently rocks in the wind, the wind
licks his body, jacket bellows in the wind, and errant bill is lifted in the desert breeze. Note
the active verbs instead of adjectives. Always think movement. Don’t describe
things; describe things that do something. It doesn’t mean a thing has to move
from point A to point B. Just that things are doing something instead of being
something.
Set the right pace
Pace, which is the rhythm and speed of your scenes, can also be a factor in creating
motion. A scene’s pace can be slow or fast, pastoral or chaotic, leisurely or rushed.
Setting the right pace depends on your script’s genre and story. In general, an
action thriller will move faster than a period drama. Look at the following two
examples, and see how their pace differs from each other using words, length of
sentences, and the characters’ actions and speech:
THE GODFATHER (FRANCIS FORD COPPOLA, MARIO PUZO)
By now, THE VIEW is full, and we see Don Corleone’s office in his home. The blinds
are closed, and so the room is dark, and with patterned shadows. We are watching
BONASERA over the shoulder of DON CORLEONE. TOM HAGEN sits near a small
table, examining some paperwork, and SONNY CORLEONE stands impatiently by the
window nearest his father, sipping from a glass of wine. We can HEAR music, and the
laughter and voices of many people outside.
DON CORLEONE
Bonasera, we know each other for years, but this
is the first time you come to me for help. I don’t
remember the last time you invited me to your
house for coffee…even though our wives are
friends.
BONASERA
What do you want of me? I’ll give you anything
you want, but do what I ask!
ALIEN
RIPLEY
Wait.
They stop quickly, almost stumbling.
RIPLEY
It’s within five meters.
Parker and Brett heft the net.
Ripley has the prod in one hand, tracker in the other.
Moves with great care.
Almost in a half-crouch, ready to leap back.
Prod extended, Ripley constantly glances at her tracker.
The device leads her up to a small hatch in the bulkhead.
Perspiration rivers down her face.
She sets aside the tracker.
Raises the prod, grasps the hatch handle.
Yanks it open.
Jams the electric prod inside.
A nerve-shattering squall.
Then a small creature comes flying out of the locker.
Eyes glaring, claws flashing.
Instinctively, they throw the net over it.
Very annoyed.
They open the net and release the captive.
Which happens to be the cat.
Hissing and spitting…it scampers away.
Use dynamic high-energy verbs
Now that you know you should replace adjectives with active verbs whenever
possible, you should also pay attention to the kinds of verbs you choose. To create
motion, spend some time selecting the perfect verb for each sentence—verbs
that move, dynamic verbs that have high-energy and are more potent than regular
active verbs. For example, the bell clangs instead of rings; sludge oozes instead of
drips; the parasol sways instead of moves; the woman sobs instead of cries; the man
sprints instead of runs. Here’s a professional example from the master of dynamic
verbs, Shane Black:
LETHAL WEAPON
Lloyd blinks. Swallows. Another moment. Finally—
He lowers the gun. Sighs.
LLOYD
…What do you want to know…?
Murtaugh relaxes visibly. And that’s when two things happen. The picture WINDOW
GLASS suddenly COLLAPSES. Falls TINKLING into a million shards.
And the carton of milk in Lloyd’s hand pops, spurting milk all over the front of his black
suit.
He frowns. Stares at the dribbling milk. Blinks. And his eyes snap open wide, as blood
seeps out of his shirt, spattering the floor.
LLOYD
Roger – !
With his dying breath, he leaps in front of Murtaugh. Takes the SECOND BULLET.
The one meant for Murtaugh. It blows him into Roger, takes them both to the floor in a
breath-crushing impact.
More BULLETS CHOP the kitchen. China PLATES BURST into a glassy spray. Food
spatters and gushes, staining the walls.
Sensory words
You know that great description is carefully worded. It is also sensory. Professional
writers who care about how their words affect the reader emotionally pick simple
but interesting words, words that glow, pulse, bleed, and kick, specifically words
that appeal to our five senses—sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. When it
comes to description, the thesaurus is your most valuable tool. After writing your
first draft without worrying about word choices, replace your static words with
sensory words, such as peer, snoop, bark, snap, fragrant, musky, bitter, juicy, caress or kiss.
Look again at the Page One winner (p. 155), and note how many sensory words
are evident: barren eyesore… brisk wind whistles… hits the fence with a wet slap… like
locusts… violently rocks in the wind… blood-soaked body… staring fish-eyed in the blistering
midday sun… wind licks his body… tattered jacket bellows in the wind… blood-soaked
money… breeze… crimson drops of blood. The more sensory words on the page, the
more palpable and vivid the reading experience.
Sound bursts
Sound bursts, also known as onomatopoeia, are words that mimic natural sounds,
such as whomp, whap, clang, screech, specifically sensory words that appeal to our
hearing. Often, these sounds become verbs because their sound reflects their
meaning. For example, it is recommended to match certain nouns with their corresponding onomatopoeic verb—bells clang, birds chirp, wolves howl, winds whistle.
Here are a couple of professional examples:
BLADE RUNNER (HAMPTON FANCHER, DAVID PEOPLES)
BATTY
My eyes… I guess you designed them, eh?
CHEW
You Nexus? I design Nexus eyes.
SMASH! Leon, infuriated by the unblinking eyes, smashes the tank and the insolent
eyes pour out onto the floor. Batty smiles and points to his own eyes.
BATTY
Ah, Chew…
(squish, squish)
If only you could see the things I have seen with
your eyes.
Squish! Squish! The squishes are Batty’s feet stepping in eyeballs as he paces in front
of Chew.
SE7EN (ANDREW KEVIN WALKER)
He reaches to the nightstand, to a wooden, pyramidical metronome. He frees the
metronome’s weighted swing arm so it moves back and forth. Swings to the left – TICK,
swings to the right – TICK.
Tick… tick… tick… measured and steady.
Emotional cues revisited
As you saw in Chapter 8, emotional cues are the emotions a character feels in a
scene. Applying the “Show, don’t tell” maxim, you can show these emotions by
describing a character’s actions, which cue the reader to the character’s emotions
in a scene. They’re often more expressive than the actual telling of the emotion.
For instance, great writers show how a character is angry by writing specific
actions that suggest this emotion. They would never write, “She is angry.”
Instead, they would write, “She throws a pot through the window.” Be aware that
actions are always more truthful than what a character might say to describe an
emotion. In When Harry Met Sally, when Sally says to Harry, “I hate you,” then
kisses him, which is the truth? The line or the action? Right, the action. We are
what we do. Since dialogue should be subtextual, the truth of a scene is not in
the dialogue but in its emotional cues, which are visual. Look at the following
example from The Long Kiss Goodnight, and how Shane Black conveys the little
girl’s fears without ever mentioning it on the page:
INSIDE, a bed, dappled with moon shadow.
A LITTLE GIRL, fast asleep. The wind whistles and sighs outside. She DREAMS…
Eyelids closed, eyes roving beneath… then suddenly they SNAP open. A stifled cry.
She thrashes for her STUFFED BEAR, as a soft voice says:
VOICE
Shhhhh.
And there’s MOM, kneeling beside her. Vague shape in the dimness. The full moon
throws light across one sparkling eye.
LITTLE GIRL
Mommy, the men on the mountain…
MOM
Shhhh. Gone, all gone now.
(strokes her hair)
I’m here. Mommy’s always here and no one can
ever hurt you. Safe now… safe and warm… snug
as a bug in a rug.
(beat)
I’ll sit with you, think you can sleep?
LITTLE GIRL
Turn on the nightlight.
