SCREENWRITING: You don’t really want me to read your script

We need to talk.

Serious talk.

This might sting a bit.

You know how you keep sliding into my DMs and telling me about that kickass script you just wrote or shooting me an email about your latest gamechanging pilot.

That one you want me to take a look at. That one you’ve been working on for months.

Yeah, that one.

“Be brutally honest,” you tell me. “Anything you have I want to hear it.”

Yeaaaaah.

You don’t want to hear my feedback.

You really really don’t.

I promise you.

I’ve been at this for awhile. Too long. Given tons of notes. Honest reactions. It’s the rare person that pays any attention. Maybe it’s that my notes suck. Maybe it’s that I am not ‘getting’ your masterpiece. Maybe I’m just jealous.

But I have a sneaky suspicion…that you don’t really want notes.

Sometimes you even tell me that… You tell me — “this is the final draft…so we’re not looking at big changes.”

Look, I’m the last person you should send something to for proof reading. I can barely spell Grammerly. Look at this blog! It’s full of spelling and grammar mistakes. I need you for that.

So what do you really want?

I think I know.

You want me to say it’s GREAT! You want me to call you on the phone to tell you THIS IS THE ONE! The game changer! The story I’ll call my friends about it. It’s ready to ship. Go to market. Inspire bidding wars! All hail the next — William Goldman or Diablo Cody or the guy who wrote Sharknado.

Yeaaaaah. That’s not going to happen. I’m not going to say that. I never say that. I’m a jerk.

Instead, I’m going to nicely (i’m not 100% jerk) point out issues, sticking points, plot holes, character blahs, craft-ey things, maybe a marketing concern or two. I’m going to put serious thought (and way too much time) into it. I’m going to respond and you’re going to —

Hate me.

You’re gonna hate my guts.

And look, I get it, I do…our writer egos are fragile. We need to guard them. We need to keep them in shape because keeping the inspiration is more important than some notes. We need to keep moving forward. We can’t spend time changing our scripts from Apples to Oranges. Maybe we only like Apples. Or maybe we’re not ready to really crack this script.

Maybe skip the notes? Maybe start doing what’s harder — amping your own personal critic so you don’t need them any more. You think Stevie King sends out his latest Dark Tower yarn to his buds for a round of notes? You think Billy Shakespeare hit up his local writer’s group for quick impressions on King Lear?

Ultimately, as a screenwriter, you’re selling your expertise, your tastes, your talent — developing that is key. You’re the one people should turn to, to show the way. Develop that.

I find notes valuable. I ask friends for reads. Specific friends.

And I hate getting their feedback. It sucks royally.

But I’ve learned how to take the blow and learn from the pain.

The key is in the ‘why’. As you’re recoiling from the pain and your defenses are up — you need to stop and use your empath parts to get in the mind of the reader and say why are they giving this note. This is the path to improving your script. This is the value of notes.

More often than not I find many notes are issues of clarity. People aren’t groking what I’m putting down. My sales pitch isn’t clear enough. Maybe I need to be a little more on the nose or add motivation/theme/etc to more scenes. Sometimes the note is asking me to put something in the script that’s already there — I can dismiss it or dive in to make sure the next reader doesn’t miss it.

But notes are hard. Always. Every time I get them I get a bit angry, dismissive, eye-rolley.

But here’s the secret — that’s what I want.

I want that spike of andrenaline. That burn of fury. That spark.

That’s kind of what I want. When I reach out for notes it’s at a point where I don’t feel I can continue — either from a sense of completeness or apathy.

9 times out of 10 notes shine a light on some truth I already know. Sometimes they’ll be things I’ve already reconciled with (my hero isn’t likeable and that’s what I like in this story!) …other times they’ll be things I have in denial (the rules of the magic are confusing!).

Okay…ultimately, you need to learn how to work with note-givers. My screenwriting life is mostly about responding to notes of some sort. I sell an original — I get hired to rewrite. I work with producers on pitches. I work on assignment doing rewrites or implementing a director’s vision of some adapted work. But in most of those cases, I’m paid for the pain!

If ya want notes, fine. But just ask yourself first, really really ask yourself…do you want notes or are you chasing praise and affirmation. If it’s praise and affirmation…skip the notes. Please skip the notes!

Reading scripts is a burden. It’s work. Hard work. Worse than work. I’d rather be reading the latest Gillian Flynn novel or surfing the internet or tweeting Dad Jokes. No one really wants to read your script (and if someone does it — just no they’re angels on earth for taking the time. Be respectful of that and know they deserve thanks and you should bake them cookies and stuff)

So only ask if you’re really going to use them constructively.

And if you’re not…just do what Billy Shakespheare does — skip ’em and keep writing. You’ll be getting them later when you sell something or go into production and stuff…you’ll hate them then too.