Authoring & Playwriting

This is so insightful! Thank you!

Thank you for your comment! I'm glad this idea inspired you.

This "Civilization Entropy Log" series is actually a world-building concept derived from a novel I published on Wattpad. Now I'm trying to create a precise definition set of key terms on Substack, hoping to transform the vague consensus language into a structured tool with boundaries.

Nashawnda Brimmer This looks AWESOME! Congrats - I would love to learn about your journey to publication.

Well done! That's exciting!

That's very cool.

Wonderful, will have to check that out.

This looks interesting. Please keep me informed.

thanks everyone the book is now available on Barnes and noble

The only time I've ever attended a film festival was at the Austin Film Festival last year, and I attended the Stage 32 Meet and Greet. The reason I attended was that my screenplay was a Second-Rounder. I had no idea what to expect, and as far as networking, I'm sure there is a lot I got wrong. However, I did meet a few people, and have continued contact with a couple, but I don't know that the networking has amounted to much other than, a learning experience, and at this point (since I'm still a film industry novice) learning is very important. Speaking of which, I'm always open to more information. Frank Detrano, I'm still trying to figure out what an elevator pitch actually is. There's a lot I've looked up on line, but about all I know is, here I am, here's my story, I hope you like it. Blessings, everyone.

I relate to this a lot — especially the part where networking feels more like a learning experience than immediate results. I think that’s actually where the real value is at this stage.

About the elevator pitch — the way I’ve started looking at it is not as “selling a story,” but as sharing something intriguing in a very simple and clear way.

For example, instead of explaining everything, it’s more like:

“A man discovers that invisible forces are influencing human behavior — and the more he uncovers, the more he risks losing his own sanity.”

Just enough to spark curiosity, not to explain the whole story.

Still figuring it out myself, but that shift in perspective helped a lot.

And honestly, just showing up and talking to people like you did — that’s already a big step forward.

Hi Debbie,

Honestly, I think one of the biggest mindset shifts is realizing that most investors are not actually investing in a screenplay first — they’re investing in emotional confidence, clarity of vision, and the feeling that the creator understands people as much as story.

The strongest networking interactions I’ve seen usually don’t begin with “Please fund my film.” They begin with genuine curiosity, shared values, regional pride, or a meaningful human conversation. Especially for locally rooted projects, people often respond when they feel the film is emotionally connected to the identity of the community, not just using it as a backdrop.

Also, in a very short interaction, emotional memorability matters more than information overload. A clear emotional hook tends to travel farther than a detailed pitch deck.

And strangely enough, desperation often disappears the moment the creator starts speaking less like someone asking for money and more like someone inviting people into a meaningful experience, cultural moment, or lasting story.

Wishing you huge success with the ribbon cutting and the film. The fact that you care this much about approaching people authentically already puts you ahead of many creators.

Love this conversation! Something that I like to remind creatives is that we're all just people, so let's make conversation. A well-versed investor, producer, exec, etc. can smell a pitch a mile away. And typically, it's a major turn-off.

There's a strange notion that you need to close within the first conversation. These relationships take time to flourish and grow. Simply have a conversation with someone, prove to them you're someone worth their time, and build a connection that opens the door for investment or partnership opportunities down the road.

While some may view this as "the slow path", I view it as tactical. This is business that is built on the backs of relationships, so go make relationships. The rest will follow so long as you can remain cordial, professional, and have a strong business plan (but that's a whole separate thread haha)!

This is such a valuable perspective — especially the “two boxes” point.

I think a lot of writers (myself included early on) focus heavily on making the script compelling, but don’t always think about the practical pathway to production.

That second box — “how does this actually get made?” — really changes how you approach writing. Budget, location, market, all of it starts influencing the creative decisions in a much more grounded way.

It’s a great reminder that storytelling and feasibility have to work together, not separately.

Definitely an interesting article. Hard to imagine a world where we didn't have the wonderful stories--books and movies--that have become part of our culture.

Debra Holland indeed and I love the fact that he loved literature and it informed the stories he told. Which books have inspired you in your work?

Calming adrenaline, while feeling hope. Like looking at a sunny mountain after a jog.

Satisfied. I also enjoyed the readers interested questions, comments and opinions immensely.

As long as they don't punch me in the face, I'm good

Less alone for sure. I always say that if even one person feels a little less alone in the world because of my stories, everything I did will be worth it.

Hi Kat,

Honestly, I think the stories that stay with people the longest are often the ones that quietly reorganize something emotional inside them rather than simply entertain them for two hours.

For me, it’s less about wanting audiences to feel “happy” or “sad” and more about wanting them to feel emotionally recognized — as if some hidden part of their inner life was understood without being judged.

I’ve always been fascinated by how certain stories arrive at the exact psychological moment a person needs them. Almost like the narrative bypasses intellect and speaks directly to an emotional wound, fear, longing, or forgotten part of identity the audience couldn’t fully articulate on their own.

That’s why I think memorable storytelling is rarely just plot delivery. It’s emotional resonance architecture. The story becomes a temporary emotional mirror where people encounter themselves more honestly than they do in everyday life.

And strangely, I think audiences remember that feeling far longer than they remember specific scenes.

As many as it takes to make it excellent. It's not a matter of counting the edits. It's a matter of striving for the best book ever. One that blows the mind of whoever reads it...

It's largely publisher-dependent. Publishing tends to move at glacial speeds, so there's a good chance you'll have 12 months or more in which to make loads of changes, if you need to. My 2027 release will be almost 2 years from acquisition to publication. Also, make sure you know what you're signing up to in terms of sub-rights etc, as it's easy to get caught out. And (you know this but it bears repeating) don't part with any money!

For my children's books, I wasn't given a deadline for revisions, per se. But I was asked to make only a few mostly related to small plot matters (i.e.: How did the characters get from point A to point B in only a matter of hours?)

I've seen many authors make edits for 6 months ish after getting a deal but that doesn't stop the publisher for moving forward with the rest; they start working on the marketing right away.

I was editing for a couple of years because the first batch was a trilogy in a publishing queue.

Hey Ajayi, this is Sandra from the Stage 32 team. I just wanted to let you know I moved your post from Producing to Authoring & Playwriting, as it fits much better there. Let me know if you have any questions, and all the best to you!

Hi Ajayi,

I completely agree with this — and honestly, I think one of the biggest misconceptions about adaptation is that people assume a “successful book” automatically contains cinematic DNA.

Very often, it doesn’t.

Some novels are profoundly literary but dramatically internal. Their power exists inside language, introspection, narration, or philosophical texture in ways that don’t naturally translate visually.

While other stories almost seem to resist remaining on the page.

You can feel the camera hiding inside them.

As someone who spends a great deal of time in screenplay development and script doctoring, I’ve noticed that the strongest adaptations usually preserve emotional essence rather than literal structure.

That’s the real challenge.

Because adaptation is not transcription.

It’s transformation.

And sometimes the most faithful adaptation is actually the one willing to change the most structurally while protecting the emotional soul of the material.

I also think many writers underestimate how differently audiences process:

* novels,

* cinema,

* and television psychologically.

A novel allows intimacy through internal access.

Film creates intimacy through behavior, image, rhythm, silence, tension, and visual subtext.

Television often creates attachment through long-form emotional accumulation and evolving character psychology over time.

Those are completely different storytelling muscles.

Which is why adaptation decisions become so important:

* What must remain?

* What must evolve?

* What should become visual rather than verbal?

* What emotional experience is the audience meant to live through onscreen?

That last question matters enormously.

Because audiences rarely remember adaptations for “accuracy” alone.

They remember them because the emotional experience felt alive.

And honestly, I think the projects with the strongest cinematic potential are usually the ones built around:

* emotional contradiction,

* psychologically layered characters,

* escalating moral tension,

* strong visual identity,

* and themes that remain emotionally relevant even after the plot itself ends.

Those are the stories that survive transition between mediums.

Excellent post — and a fascinating area of development to explore right now, especially as audiences increasingly crave emotionally immersive storytelling again rather than purely algorithmic content.

Ajayi Song There’s something fascinating about adaptations because it’s not just about finding a “good book” it’s about finding material that transforms cinematically.

Some stories have atmosphere, emotional tension, visual imagery, or character dynamics that almost feel like they’re already asking to become film.

I also think audiences are increasingly drawn toward adaptations that feel emotionally grounded rather than purely franchise-driven. There are probably countless incredible stories sitting quietly on bookshelves right now, waiting for the right filmmaker to recognize their screen potential.

Would love to know when you’re looking at books, what’s usually the first thing that makes you feel this could work as a film?

Cinema is both littered with unimpressive adaptations whist at the same time spearheaded by many stunning and prize winning ones too. It is an area with quite phenomenal opportunity and adaptation is an art form in its own right.

Good and to the point advice!

I like to go on a long walk with my dog. It makes me think a little deeper on my story and it helps.

That actually makes a lot of sense, John. Sometimes stepping away from the screen helps the story breathe a little. Walking has a way of clearing mental noise, and ideas often connect more naturally when you’re not forcing them. Plus, dogs are probably better writing companions than most people anyway.

I relate to this a lot, Kat.

Interestingly, I’ve found that some of the best creative breakthroughs happen precisely when the mind stops trying to “force” solutions consciously.

Especially in screenwriting.

Because storytelling problems are rarely only logical problems.

They are often subconscious alignment problems.

Sometimes a scene is not working because:

* the emotional objective is unclear

* the character psychology is resisting the action

* the thematic layer is disconnected

* or the narrative rhythm is internally out of balance

And the conscious mind can keep rewriting dialogue endlessly without identifying the real issue underneath.

That’s why stepping away becomes so valuable.

For me, long walks help enormously — especially without music or distractions.

I’ve noticed the brain continues processing narrative tension in the background.

Almost like the subconscious keeps restructuring the story while the conscious mind finally becomes quiet enough to listen.

Ironically, many solutions arrive not as dialogue ideas, but as:

* emotional realizations

* structural simplifications

* character contradictions

* tonal corrections

* or sudden clarity about what the scene is actually about

From a script development perspective, I think creative resets are underrated because writing is mentally expensive in ways people often underestimate.

A writer is simultaneously managing:

* causality

* emotion

* pacing

* subtext

* audience perception

* thematic continuity

* psychological realism

for hundreds of pages over long periods of time.

That cognitive load is enormous.

Sometimes the most productive thing a writer can do is temporarily stop “writing” and allow deeper narrative processing to occur underneath conscious thought.

Ironically, silence is often part of the writing process too.

Take a nap, read a novel, sit on my patio and listen to the birdsong.

I like that — sometimes stepping away is the only way to reset the mind and let ideas breathe.

Sandra Correia I actually think this is one of the most interesting perspectives on AI and creativity because it shifts the conversation away from fear and toward originality.

A lot of forgettable storytelling already feels algorithmic even when humans write it repeated structures, recycled dialogue, safe characters, familiar emotional beats. So in a strange way, AI might end up pressuring writers to become more personal, more specific, and more emotionally honest rather than less.

What makes memorable writing unforgettable is usually the part that feels risky or deeply human:

the contradictions,

the uncomfortable truths,

the oddly specific observations,

the emotional imperfections.

Those things don’t come from prediction models alone. They come from lived experience, instinct, taste, obsession, vulnerability, and the strange way individual people see the world.

And honestly, if a story feels too easy for AI to imitate, maybe the deeper question is whether the writer pushed far enough into their own unique perspective in the first place.

That’s probably where truly original voices will matter even more going forward.

Thank you, my friend :) Geoff Hall, I really like the way you put that. The reminder about the “A” in AI is so true. If the writing is already generic, then yes, AI can imitate it or even replace it. But when the work comes from a place of originality and authenticity, it stands on its own. I love your image of AI as the noisy neighbor bragging about its artificiality. Writers who bring something real, strange, specific, or lived, they're not threatened by that.

Abhijeet Aade, you're right, so much storytelling already feels algorithmic, even when no AI is involved. And in a strange way, AI might actually push writers to go deeper into the parts that only a human can bring: the contradictions, the odd details, the emotional messiness, the things we notice because we’ve lived them.

Those risky, specific, imperfect choices are what make writing unforgettable. A model can predict patterns, but it can’t invent a lived truth. And I agree with your last point completely; if AI can imitate a story too easily, maybe the writer didn’t dig far enough into their own perspective.

That’s where the real voices will stand out even more going forward.

Sandra Correia Exactly that’s the interesting paradox of it.

The more AI becomes capable of reproducing familiar structure and surface-level storytelling, the more valuable genuinely personal perspective becomes.

Because the things that stay with us in stories are usually the details that feel observed, not manufactured the contradictions, uncomfortable emotions, strange little human behaviors, the moments that don’t feel perfectly designed.

I think audiences can sense when something comes from lived emotional truth versus assembled pattern recognition, even if they can’t always explain why.

In a way, this might push writers toward becoming more personal, not less. And honestly, that could lead to some really distinctive storytelling over time.

No doubt, Abhijeet Aade.

Nice! I am in the middle of an edit pass with a script that fits one of these. Now with this deadline... git-R-done!