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."