I checked my old geography books. Everything from the Twentieth Century tells me that:

• the Indians have an Ocean,
• the Arabians have a Sea,
• and the Persians have a Gulf.

Somebody wanted to change that.   Why?

We give people names all the time.   The hardest name for me growing up was “What you call your friends’ parents?”

In The Cosby Show, the patriarch’s son-in-law calls him “Dad”.  It’s funny to watch Bill Cosby’s character react.  It asks a question of whether this is appropriate.

The son-in-law could also call him Mr. Huxtable, or Heathcliffe.  Another option is Sir, or he could make up a nickname.  The name “Dad” reveals that Bill Cosby’s character has indeed gained a son, whether he likes it or not.

Meet Dave shows another way to address people in a strange situation.  Dave’s crew doesn’t know how to act on Earth.  They start greeting people by immitating a Sales woman’s greeting.  “Welcome to Old Navy”.

To me, it was funny on many levels.  Sure, Eddy Murphy is great at being silly.  But it also reflects how I feel when signing an email to a stranger.

I usually mimic whatever the other guy says, even if it sounds very odd to me.  If I get a Hi Vasco, I return a Hi Dave.  If I get a Dear Mr. de Sousa, I’ll reply with a Dear Mr. Ming Chang.

I feel like a robot when I sign off as “Regards” or “All the Best” and only include my first name in a business email.  Having grown up with only “Love” and “Sincerely”, all these other greetings are foreign to me.  I only mimic those around me to “fit in”.

But sometimes, I won’t mimic others to fit in.  I don’t smoke around smokers or swear around those who swear.  I won’t lie just because “everyone is doing it.”

So let’s get back to The disputed Gulf.  I won’t call it “The” Gulf. I used to live near the Texan Gulf (sorry, err, the Gulf of Mexico).  That, to me, is “The Gulf”.

And I don’t see any point in calling it the “Arab” Gulf.  Why not change the English Channel to the French Channel?  Or the Irish Sea to the Welsh Sea?  Besides, “Arabian Gulf” is too close in name to the Arabian Sea.

I’ll go with the Persians on this one.  I may have my differences with the current government of Iran*, but no one can be wrong all of the time.

Now, what do I call my father in law…?

*(“I ran, you ran, we all ran from Iran, because they were being mean.” )

A lot of the public domain material out there is terrible.   If you look, you may find a gem, but that takes almost as long as writing one yourself.

So you look to experienced screenwriters.

Q. How do you get an experienced screenwriter to write you a screenplay?

A. Give the screenwriter what they want.

Q. What do screenwriters want?

A. Money and/or to get their film made.

How can you give a writer enough money to write a feature film?  This can take a year.

One thing you can do is option the screenplay, which is make a down payment to reserve the script until you get the rest of the money.  This can cost significantly less than commissioning an entire script, upfront at least.  And the option is something you can use to attract investors and pay for the top crew, cast, etc.

A good script, when optioned, can also be used to attract the cast and crew to your project, bringing credibility to your project when you show it to investors.

Still, why would a screenwriter want to settle for an option and not be paid everything upfront?  Because, besides just money, they want a guarantee that the film will be made.

At first, an option doesn’t look like a viable guarantee that a film will be made.  A multi-billion dollar (or pound, or euro) studio, with the money and know-how to make high quality a film, might prefer to buy a script outright.

And, as a beginning filmmaker, an option might not be enough to convince a talented and experienced screenwriter to send you a script.  It also may not be enough to convince investors to invest in your project.  You might need to first prove your abilities as a filmmaker.  Is this a catch 22?

It may seem like a catch 22, but there are ways of proving your ability without making a feature film.

One of those ways is by making a short film.  And even the shortest film starts with a good script.

But where do you find a good enough short script?  Something that can be shot on a reasonable budget, that is professional?

I’m sure you’ve all seen short scripts written by people who think screenwriting is easy money.  Although useful, screenwriting software shared by thousands, perhaps millions, does not produce a professional, just as seminars attended by hundreds every week do not produce experts.

In some parts of the business, people buy one book and nominate themselves as instant experts.

Wouldn’t you prefer a screenplay written by someone who tells stories to children every night?  Someone who has seriously studied storytelling since the first time he heard a ghost story by a campfire?   Someone who has been writing screenplays for well over a decade and can still enjoy films that are made for a mass audience?

Perhaps you’d prefer someone who has written screenplays for his own films, someone who has done the math and knows how much a certain shot will cost.

How can you get one of these writers to write a short script for you?  Make a small investment.

Think about all the money a good script could save you.  How much are you willing to spend on long seminars, expensive courses, over-rated software, or long winded and pretentious sounding books, only to find out some are useful and others are worthless?  Wouldn’t you rather spend your time, talent and energy on becoming a better filmmaker?   Wouldn’t you rather someone else did all that research for you?

A good script can help you attract the right kind of people to your project.  It’s the starting block for any good film.

There’s nothing more important in making movies than the screenplay.
- Richard Attenborough

Vasco Phillip de Sousa has been involved in the production of every kind of short film: from music videos to gangster films to documentaries.

He knows which effects can be done on a budget, and which ones are easier said than done.

He knows what will make a child laugh, and what kind of story will captivate a grown up.

Vasco wants you to get your film made, so that later you’ll come back for more.

The firing squad’s commander decided to shoot the retiree first, because he had the least time left to live. So, they blindfolded the poor old guy and the commander shouted:

“Ready!”

“Aim!”

The retiree, an avid birdwatcher, thought he saw a frigate bird (also known as the hurricane bird) in the distance.  So he immediately (and enthusiastically) shouted “Hurricane! Hurricane!”

The firing squad panicked and ran away. When they came back, the retiree had gone off to invent the game of golf.

Next they decided to shoot the “job seeker” -  in this economy he had the least to live for.

So they put him against the post and the commander shouted:

“Ready!”

“Aim!”

In the heat of the day, the job seeker hallucinated and thought he saw his girlfriend dancing with a cup of water and calling his name.

“Marcia!” he shouted with a dry mouth. “Give me some!”

The firing squad thought that he saw Martians, and they ran away screaming their heads off.

Well, when they got back, the jobseeker had gone off to establish himself as the world’s first career counsellor, and only the head hunter was left.

When they tied the head hunter to the pole, he was a very happy bunny.  He “knew” these assassins were idiots who’d run at a moment’s notice, and knew just how to outwit them.

So when the commander shouted “Ready!”

“Aim!”

The head hunter looked out into the distance with a false but convincing cry of alarm and interrupted:

“Fire, Fire, Fire!!”

Soon after the smoke cleared, the commander got a promotion and his squad were given hefty bonuses (subsidised by the taxpayer of course.)

Adapted from a playground favorite by Vasco Phillip de Sousa

Johnny starts planning his career. This one he’ll give for free: he’ll promote the script on websites like shooting people, talent circle, and scripts for sale. Then, when he wins an award, he’ll sell a concept written on a napkin for a record amount of money and retire.

Personally, I never had that dream. To me, screenwriting is the day job, and I plan to write at least another 30 features before I retire. Many talented writers get paid far less than lawyers, agents and other work of a similar nature. Many take on “low paying” jobs in teaching because full time writing doesn’t pay them very much at all.

But Johnny doesn’t know this. He gets home, drags his muddy shoes on the carpet, opens Final Draft, and starts typing with two fingers. The stress of his job – the way his boss yells at him, the endless cutting and pasting – pushes him to the limits of despair, and suddenly it’s as if he can’t write a word.

Should Johnny quit his day job and go into writing full time? Should he take a writing course to motivate him? Probably not.

In Johnny’s case, writing block is a good thing.

Imagine if he does write that “award winning” screenplay. So Johnny beats out 50,000 other contestants and wins about a year’s salary in some screenwriting contest, and offers his script to some director who’s latest Youtube short has a million views.

That director makes Johnny’s film, and it’s a riot.  Johnny’s boss’s kids see it, and they burst out laughing. Johnny’s best friend sees the first half of it, and she laughs. When the broadband connection stalls the video one too many times, she promises to watch the rest later.

In the middle of the night, Johnny gets a phone call. His best friend has now seen the whole film, and she’s appalled. He wonders why she doesn’t have a sense of humour, only to be met with a dial tone.

Johnny goes to work the next morning, and his coworkers avoid his gaze, except for the janitor who congratulates him for a film well made.

The janitor, usually quiet, suddenly becomes the biggest mouth in the whole town.  He recounts the funniest parts of the story the way a child recounts a Pixar film.  The janitor’s laughter is filled with such sincerity, it’s as if the whole room is suddenly filled with joy.

Johnny looks up at his boss.  The boss, like Johnny’s friend, has no sense of humour.

Johnny isn’t sacked immediately.  He’s just put on hold.  People don’t tell him where his mail is.  His contract isn’t renewed.  His job description is changed so that you suddenly need a specialist degree that Johnny doesn’t have.

Down at the country club however, Johnny’s the talk of the town.  Everyone encourages Johnny to write another hit, so he does.

This time, Johnny thinks he’s on form. He’s writing a real winner, and Hollywood will love it.

However, no one with money cares that Johnny had an Internet hit. Some will credit the director, the actors, the editor, or even the score with the way the film came out. The dialogue, they say, was wooden, the structure forced.

He goes back to the director, but that guy’s got a new sucker writing the next script.  The “producer” doesn’t have any money, and doesn’t plan to look for any either.

Johnny’s back at square one, make that minus one.  He’s got the screenplay to fill the gap in his cv, and employers are asking him what the script was about. Some have a hearty laugh when they find out, but none want to be the subject of a future satire.

Now, this is an extreme case which I just made up off of the top of my head. A much more likely scenario is that Johnny gets a great idea, stays up late writing it, and is too tired to do his day job properly. If it’s based on his real life, it ends up looking more like a rant than a screenplay.

˙ʇǝɹƃǝɹ ɹǝʇɐן p,noʎ ʇɐɥʇ ƃuıɥʇǝɯos ƃuıʇıɹʍ ɯoɹɟ noʎ sdoʇs ʇı ɟı ‘ƃuıɥʇ pooƃ ɐ ǝq uɐɔ ʞɔoןq s,ɹǝʇıɹʍ

“Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm” – Groucho Marx?

When speaking to a computer, all you have to do is use the correct syntax and the computer understands.

Huh?  For you kids out there, that means if you press the red button, Mario jumps, or the spaceship fires.  The computer knows what you mean.  And the computer knows that the red button always means the same thing no matter who presses it.

But people don’t know that (especially us grown ups).  We forget that.  We judge the message by the messenger (I think that’s the right cliché).

If you don’t believe me, look at all those quotes at the bottom of people’s emails.  Who do they quote most often?  Groucho Marx?  Winston Churchill?  Vasco de Sousa?  (I wish).

“Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm” – Groucho Marx.

Actually, it was Winston Churchill.

Words change their meaning depending on who says them.  As a man with an unusual, Latin sounding name, I have a certain stereotype to live up to.

I can enhance that stereotype by the way I dress, or the topics I chose to discuss.  There are some people who will chose to think of me as a stereotype regardless of what I say or do.  I could go by a pen name to please them. Fortunately, I can still do things to enhance the reputation I have with open minded people.

Whether you are an author or not, what you say will be taken in the context of what people already think about you.

Is what you are saying a joke, a rant, a sage piece of advice?  It’s not just what you say, or even how you say it.  It’s what who’s hearing it thinks of you that determines the meaning.

That’s why we quote others.  Churchill has more authority than most of us when it comes to winning and losing.  Groucho Marx has a reputation for being jovial.   When we quote men like them, we can borrow their reputations to support our shared ideas and observations.

We can’t always rely on their reputations.  Not everyone knows that Groucho Marx was a comedian. And some young people may have been taught differently than we have about Churchill (I hear there are parts of Wales where Winston is very unpopular).

Both Groucho and Winston have their reputations because of what they are known for doing.  As an author, what I let people know about what I do determines my reputation.

Fictional dialogue is the same.  Dialogue gets its meaning from a character.  If Tartuff, Hamlet and C3P0 all say the same line, we could infer three separate meanings.

Every time you say or do something, you build your own identity.  Are you a know-it-all, a jack of all trades, a whimsical flirt, a humorless scrooge, a caring do-g0oder, a clumsy goofball or something else?

Unfortunately, it’s not what you really are, it’s what other people see and hear that determines your reputation.  Fortunately, there are things you can do to help shape that reputation.

“My favourite part is when Alvin was on a mini motorbike when he was trying to save the Chippets from Ian. Alvin got the Chippets and Ian stole this Toy helicopter and a remote control to control it from a toy shop. Then Ian was controlling the toy and Alvin and the Chippets got onto the toy helicopter and the Chippets and Alvin threw their helmets on Ian and he let go of the remote control. One of the Chippets caught it and Ian was on the floor on his back and the motorbike that Alvin and the Chippets were on was still moving on its own and it was going to Ian and it hit his willy.”
-boy aged ten

“My favourite parts are when Alvin gives wedgies to the naughty boys, and when Alvin and Simon beat up the naughty boys.”
-boy aged eight

Logline:
The Loch Ness Monster takes her family on holiday to Wales

Short Synopsis:
When the Nessies have had enough of the local tourists, their cousin Draig (the Welsh Dragon) invites them to spend a nice, “quiet” holiday in Wales.

They enjoy themselves, wrecking havoc off the beaten path.

(pdf)