Like many, I’m reasonably new to screenwriting. I taught college courses in writing and Goth Lit for 15 years, and when I made the switch to screenwriting, I thought, “It’s writing. How hard could it be? Look at all the stuff that gets made.”

I embarked on a journey to learn all I could about writing scripts, something I’d dreamed of doing for nigh-on 30 years. I wrote a couple of sitcoms I thought were awesome and sent them to some managers who accepted unsolicited scripts.

I was turned down by all of them. I had no idea why. Generally, nobody tells you what you’re bad at for free.

Not knowing any better, I kept entering these scripts in contests and submitting for fellowships. I tanked every application. Yet, I still plugged away. I tried to learn more, to improve my skills without taking a single class on screenwriting.

When I saw an ad for the Writers Guild Foundation’s Veterans Writing Project (linked in my bio below!), I decided to apply, expecting the worst and hoping for the best. I was, thankfully, accepted. And about to get a wake-up call. I didn’t have great stuff. At all.

Over the course of the year long cohort, I learned that my original babies, to put it bluntly: SUCKED. And now I knew why.

That advice made the difference by elevating my work to the point that one major producer said my samples are “perfect staffing samples” and offered to put me in touch with a showrunner if their series is picked up for a new season.

WGA Veterans Writing Project, 2021 Group

#1 - Be a H.O.G.

One of the first lessons we learned in the program was H.O.G. This concept was drilled into us. It stands for “HERO. OBSTACLE. GOAL.” Every script has a hero. That hero has a goal and, but before reaching that goal, they have obstacles. It seems straight-forward, right? But this simple rule is often overlooked or forgotten about in many young scripts.

Your main character needs to be dynamic. Moving. Constantly moving. Even anti-Heroes like Archie Bunker had obstacles and goals: He’s always right. He has to try to convince “Meathead” that he’s wrong. Michael was his main obstacle, but Archie’s daughter and wife worked against him too.

The hero must have a “Why” for acting. If she’s dying, why? If they are trying to find something or someone, why? If he’s hiding from someone, why? If the family moves to a new state or city, why? Ozark and Schitt’s Creek do that last one exceptionally well.

The HERO must have OBSTACLES on their way to their GOAL. It’s that simple. And that hard.

#2 - The Cold Open is an Ad for Your Script

One of my mentors in the program dropped this knowledge bomb on our sitcom group. She’s a bigwig. You know her work. She was connected to The Big Bang Theory and currently works on Young Sheldon and United States of Al.

That cold open is where you hook your audience within the first couple of minutes. It’s the spot your audience learns a whole lot about your main characters. All of them should be introduced in the cold open. How you do that is up to you.

For me, I gravitate toward arguments or stressful situations. We can tell a lot about people when we hear and see them arguing or watch them in a stressful environment. Regardless, with very few exceptions, every main character should be in that opening.

For example, look at the Bob Hearts Abishola cold open: Bob is rolled in. He’s had a heart attack. His family comes with him. Abishola ends up being his nurse. He tries to make excuses. She doesn’t take any excuses. His mom says something. Abishola gives it back. Bob’s embarrassed by his family, including his brother and sister.

We learn all that in a matter of a couple of minutes. In those few minutes, we know everything we need to know about Bob, his family dynamics, and Abishola. One scene. In a hospital room. That’s all it takes to hook us into Bob and Abishola’s lives.

Oh, and the mentor added: “And your pilot is your ad for your series.”

#3 – Think Like a Producer

This advice from one of my mentors is meant to help you streamline the heck out of your work. When you write, think like a producer. Ask yourself these questions as you write and revise:

“When they read the script will they understand the setting?” and “Will they be able to save the production LOTS of money because I made sure every character has a purpose, that an extra’s words can’t be said by someone else?”

Producers are essentially the money people. They’re looking to have everything cost the production the bare minimum. The more they can cut and still keep the quality, the better. They want to control their cost-per-production hours and maximize their budgets

This industry works like any other business: It’s about cutting costs as much as possible while maintaining quality to maximize profit.

And since this is YOUR work and you want desperately to make a profit on your work, then help out your potential producer. Give them plenty to work with, don’t do their job for them, but keep it simple. They’ll do the rest.

The best way to help your producer do their job is to “Show. Don’t tell.”

Sure, a long monologue and on-the-nose dialog will save money, but it also slows down the show or feature. Get rid of the directors’ notes. Get rid of the asides. In fact, get rid of anything that’s not 100% necessary.

We aren’t writing plays. Plays are more expository than TV and film. They can’t use a tight camera shot to show a quivering lower lip to indicate the character is angry. They have to have asides, soliloquys, or outrageous hand and body motions to make sure everyone in the audience understands how they are feeling.

In our line of work, you let the actors act, the producers produce, and the directors direct. Your job is to give them the basic tools to make your vision become reality.

Nobody likes hearing a character ramble on and on when they’re watching a show or movie. There is an acceptable form of monologue. Look no further than Star Wars Episode V when Darth Vader tells Luke, “I am your father.” This roughly two-minute monologue is used well. It advances the story, and it explains a great deal about Luke’s past and future.

But this is a rarity. 99% of monologues fail. They get boring. They go on too long. They say things rather than showing them. There was no way to show what Vader was saying without doing an entirely new movie. That would have been a major task. It just wasn’t gonna happen.

Think of it in these terms: Do you like being told what to do? I’m guessing you don’t. So don’t tell your audience what to do. Show them. Immerse them in the genius that is your story.

Intertwined with “Show. Don’t Tell.” is the idea that everything must mean something. Showing entails making sure everything in the scene, everything in the script, has purpose. Perhaps you’ve heard of the term “Chekhov’s gun.” Anton Chekhov wrote this to a friend: “If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise, don't put it there.”

This goes for anything and everything in your story. Everything must be deliberate. In my early scripts, I wasn’t deliberate. I’d say there was a vanity in a corner, but then never do anything with it. This applies to introducing a character or having the character do something. You can’t have the hero take a taxi have something meaningful happen in it. They must take the taxi for a reason. Perhaps the driver turns out to be a long-lost buddy of hers.

Need help with cutting unneeded stuff? Do a table read. I created and directed the #WGFVets Table Read Series while a mentee in the program. It was eye-opening how many of us—myself included—had large sections that could be cut without hurting the story. It’s easier to HEAR your errors than read them.

WGA Veteran Retreat 2020

#4 - Writing is a Team Sport

I’ve written for as long as I can remember. I created stories and wrote them down in a journal. Mostly short stories. I always felt writing was personal, solitary. This idea was reenforced in my undergraduate and graduate classes. I’d gotten into the mindset that it was just me. Until I started the VWP.

Contrary to popular belief, writing is NOT a solo sport. Sure, we sit and write. We outline. We conceived of the idea, then characters, the original A-, B-, and C-stories, but ultimately, when we sell that script (especially if it’s for TV), it becomes a group effort, a team effort. It becomes a baseball team. Each person on that team is responsible for something. You’ll become the pitcher. If you’re lucky, you’ll be a player/manager, but don’t count on it. You’ll have a writing team. You’ll have producers, showrunners, directors, studio execs, and more. All of these folks will want something to change.

And you’ll need to be okay with the changes. Your baby isn’t going to look like your original conception. Check out the original Pose pilot script versus the pilot that aired. They’re vastly different. This is commonplace… because you have a team adding and subtracting pieces here and there to make it the best show or movie ever.

Ultimately, you’re all out to make money on your story and keep making money on it.

#5 - Be Nice!

Okay. This is a cheat. I already knew this, and while this should go without saying, but regrettably it bears reminding because there are a surprising number of total jerks in or trying to break into Hollywood, people with massive egos who haven’t produced a single thing and who refuse to take notes.

Nobody likes a jerk. There’s a difference between being a jerk and an actionable critique of a person’s pride and joy. You don’t say things like, “This script sucks.” And you sure as heck don’t need to be a jerk to executives, producers, directors, and assistants (they’re the gatekeepers. Be especially nice to them.). Just be nice. It’s not hard. Say things “Thank you for your time” and “I appreciate your thoughts.” You can curse them out behind their back. You never do it to their face. They’re the ones who are bringing you into the fold. Cliché time: You simply don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Not being nice will also get around town. Hollywood is a surprisingly small community. People either know each other or know someone who does. Word gets around about people. If you’re a racist, queerphobe, anti-Semite, or just an outright jerk, people WILL know, and there goes your chance of breaking in.

I could go on about the benefits of and what I learned. I didn’t have room for the importance of outlining in ad nauseum or the importance of networking or all the awesome people you meet (like one of the greatest writers/producers in Hollywood, the man who is the reason I wanted to tell my stories) or … the list does go on. Suffice to say: What you THINK you know about screenwriting is most certainly not as much as you think. Take the notes. Be a H.O.G., think like a producer, be nice and remember, as Red Green said, “I’m pulling for you. We’re all in this together… and keep your stick on the ice.”