FADE IN: THE SCREENWRITING PROCESS

Robert A. Berman

Michael Wiese Productions, 2nd edition, 1997

385pp, $24.95

 

There are so many screenwriting books on the market today that the beginner

surely is bewildered.  If one wants to buy one, basic "how to write a

screenplay" book, how does one sift through the crowded marketplace for

the right text?

 

Fortunately, several books have established themselves as "classics" in

this crowded field, including Michael Hauge's "Writing Screenplays That

Sell" and Lew Hunter's "Screenwriting 434."  "Fade In," although now

out in its second edition, is not one of the "classics" for reasons that

suggest both its strengths and weaknesses. 

 

"Fade In" is a personal, sometimes eccentric, book written by a writer

whose screenwriting career has yet to take off - no agent, not even an

option sold.  But there's a wealth of information in this book from "the

school of hard knocks" that makes it a worthy addition to the

screenwriter's bookshelf, even if this clearly is not the first and only

book one should buy about screenwriting.

 

Berman, like Hunter in his classic book, includes an entire screenplay of

his own, and there are both advantages and disadvantages to this strategy. 

The reader obviously gets to see the craft level of the author, but this

can be misleading.  The old cliche, "Those who can, do; those who can't,

teach," is wrong more often than it is right because it fails to distinguish

between two very different kinds of talent and communication.  Good writing

and good teaching are not mutually exclusive categories. 

 

What is especially valuable about Berman's script is not its quality but

the history that goes with it, which Berman shares.  Here is the strength

of this book, which few others share:  we have a documented journal, if you

will, of the marketing struggles of a beginning screenwriter.  We get to

read Berman's screenplay, and we get to read how agents responded to it. 

This is valuable, inside information.

 

Similarly, Berman tracks his first visit to Los Angeles from out of state,

trying to market his script.  He learns a hard lesson that is not original

but which, in one way or another, every beginner must learn:

 

    "After making my trip to the coast and spending $2000 in only one

    week, I have come to the conclusion: To be a screenwriter, it is

    absolutely essential to live in Los Angeles."

 

Of course, one can write and even sell spec scripts anywhere, but Berman

is right:  a screenwriting career, which entails frequent meetings, is

rooted in the business rhythms of Southern California.

 

Berman also has advice that others may question.  Again, in this very

personal book, the author shares what has worked for him:

 

    "After a computer and printer, a fax machine is the most important

    piece of equipment for a screenwriter."

 

    "The fax has a decided advantage over letters and even e-mail.

    ...With a fax, there is a certain immediacy where people, in my

    experience, read them almost right away."

 

Berman's personal sharing gives this book a tension and immediacy that

every beginner can relate to.  Unfortunately, when discussing matters of

craft, Berman is less successful.

 

"Where do you begin?" when preparing to write your screenplay, Berman

asks rhetorically.  "You begin with the ending."

 

While it is true that the screenplay is a hugely efficient form in which

all parts must be related, all driving inevitably to the ending, it

is not true that all professional writers know their ending before they

sit down to write.  Writing is a process, and each writer must learn which

of a variety of approaches work best. 

 

In my screenwriting classes at Portland State University, I make a

distinction between "tree people" and "forest people."  Tree people are

planners.  Like Berman, indeed like most of the how-to literature on the

market, tree people do considerable left-brained work before they begin

to write their story in earnest.  Tree people know their ending before

they write their screenplay.

 

But this is not the way all writers write.  Forest people use the process

of writing itself as a tool of discovery, putting together their story

along the way.  Of course, they will end up going back to patch things,

probably doing more rewriting than a tree person.  But so what?

 

One "forest person" screenwriter is Chris McQuarrie, writer of The

Usual Suspects, who said, "Only the story matters. Trust it to tell itself

as you see it. After the first 20 pages, a story should be moving YOU along." 

 

Another "forest person" screenwriter is Bruce Joel Rubin, who wrote Ghost:

 

    "I'm never intentional. I'm totally intuitive. I don't understand

    structure, at least in the academic sense. If you asked me today what

    a denouement is, I cannot tell you. I don't know my first act break

    from my second act break. Now, granted, I have to go back and identify

    them with the help of producers and directors, but I don't write that

    way. I just write from the gut, let it come out, and it tends to shape

    itself."

 

I belabor this point because I believe it is an important one that most

screenwriting texts, like Berman's, ignore.  There is more than one way to

write successfully.  Beginners need to know this, and when books such as this

one say the opposite, I believe the book does a disservice.

 

But this failing is matched by Berman's valuable sharing of his personal

experience in trying to find his break in Hollywood.  For this reason

alone, I can recommend Fade In: as a valuable addition to your library.

 

------

 

Charles Deemer teaches screenwriting at Portland State University and is

the author of the electronic screenwriting tutorial, "Screenwright: the

craft of screenwriting."