Save the Cat! Strikes Back: More Trouble For... by Blake Snyder Page A
Authors: Blake Snyder
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I have a wonderful little motto that I use with writers: Force it . You can apply this to any screenwriting dilemma, for it forces you to make changes you may not think you need. If you don't feel like figuring it out, or have no idea, make it up! This is the joy of “forcing it” — and it works.
I also have another great troubleshooting slogan I'll introduce at this point. It's something I like to call Here's the bad way to do this . Like the beautiful simplicity of “force it,” this lets us recalcitrant writers off the hook. Can't come up with a problem for the hero of your movie? Say: “Here's the bad way to do this” and proceed to tell us something dumb.
It takes the pressure off.
And it very often is not only
not
dumb, it's the solution.
SNIPPING THE ENDS
How does the hero begin this movie and how does he end up?
This is the third question I always pose when dealing with story scoliosis, especially when I am not seeing the hero change. I've suggested you know who the hero is, and also tell us his problem. And make sure that problem is huge! But I need to know more.
Most stories are about an underdog, and establishing the world he lives in is part of explaining why he's the way he is. The hero is an underdog because he has defects of character that cause him to be so, fear mostly — and any number of behaviors masquerading as fear. But his “world” is also deficient. It's a world where they pray to the sun every day, and when the sun rises, all hail the king who organized this ritual. Only we the audience, and our hero, suspect the king is a sham. By story's end, the hero's life must be turned upside-down. It's not enough for him to win; he must expose the king — and transform the kingdom! — to truly succeed.
Stacking the deck against the hero at the start of your story is part of what I call “snipping the ends.” How does your hero start this tale, and how does he end it? That start and finish had better be extremes. We set up his home life, work life, and play life; these are all part of his world. But by the end, these aspects must be wholly new. When figuring out where the story begins and where it ends, change is your guide.
To show what I mean, and to let those who believe I'm only talking about “formula” movies — that you think Hollywood squeezes out like so much Play-Doh — let's look at three Academy Award®-nominated screenplays for 2007. Each of these screenplays has picture-perfect opening and closing images that are the right ones because the writer has properly snipped the ends of the story:
►
The Savages
– Laura Linney begins this movie repressed sexually and professionally, and belittled by dominating brother, Philip Seymour Hoffman. By the end she's a successful playwright and has dumped her bald, overbearing lover in favor of… his dog.
►
Michael Clayton
– George Clooney is on the run from his law firm, uncertain of his life or character, and broke. By the end he's left the firm, turned the tables on them, and is parleying a million-dollar settlement with “Company Man” Tilda Swinton.
►
Lars and the Real Girl
– Ryan Gosling starts bereft, due to his mother's death, and alone. By the end, he's made peace with his mom at her gravesite — and found the “real girl” who loves him.
In each of these stories we ask: “What happened?” What caused this remarkable, life-altering change? It begins with picking the Alpha-Omega, the snapshot of the world before this movie began… and after. If you don't have that, or can't answer the question yet, or aren't
forcing
these changes to occur in your story…
Do.
THE TANGIBLE AND THE SPIRITUAL
Just to pile it on while I've got your attention, let's talk about goals: yours and your hero's.
What is your hero's goal?
is the fourth question I ask writers. And again, when I do, it's because it's missing from your story — or not apparent.
Every hero in every good story has to demonstrate a burning
I have a wonderful little motto that I use with writers: Force it . You can apply this to any screenwriting dilemma, for it forces you to make changes you may not think you need. If you don't feel like figuring it out, or have no idea, make it up! This is the joy of “forcing it” — and it works.
I also have another great troubleshooting slogan I'll introduce at this point. It's something I like to call Here's the bad way to do this . Like the beautiful simplicity of “force it,” this lets us recalcitrant writers off the hook. Can't come up with a problem for the hero of your movie? Say: “Here's the bad way to do this” and proceed to tell us something dumb.
It takes the pressure off.
And it very often is not only
not
dumb, it's the solution.
SNIPPING THE ENDS
How does the hero begin this movie and how does he end up?
This is the third question I always pose when dealing with story scoliosis, especially when I am not seeing the hero change. I've suggested you know who the hero is, and also tell us his problem. And make sure that problem is huge! But I need to know more.
Most stories are about an underdog, and establishing the world he lives in is part of explaining why he's the way he is. The hero is an underdog because he has defects of character that cause him to be so, fear mostly — and any number of behaviors masquerading as fear. But his “world” is also deficient. It's a world where they pray to the sun every day, and when the sun rises, all hail the king who organized this ritual. Only we the audience, and our hero, suspect the king is a sham. By story's end, the hero's life must be turned upside-down. It's not enough for him to win; he must expose the king — and transform the kingdom! — to truly succeed.
Stacking the deck against the hero at the start of your story is part of what I call “snipping the ends.” How does your hero start this tale, and how does he end it? That start and finish had better be extremes. We set up his home life, work life, and play life; these are all part of his world. But by the end, these aspects must be wholly new. When figuring out where the story begins and where it ends, change is your guide.
To show what I mean, and to let those who believe I'm only talking about “formula” movies — that you think Hollywood squeezes out like so much Play-Doh — let's look at three Academy Award®-nominated screenplays for 2007. Each of these screenplays has picture-perfect opening and closing images that are the right ones because the writer has properly snipped the ends of the story:
►
The Savages
– Laura Linney begins this movie repressed sexually and professionally, and belittled by dominating brother, Philip Seymour Hoffman. By the end she's a successful playwright and has dumped her bald, overbearing lover in favor of… his dog.
►
Michael Clayton
– George Clooney is on the run from his law firm, uncertain of his life or character, and broke. By the end he's left the firm, turned the tables on them, and is parleying a million-dollar settlement with “Company Man” Tilda Swinton.
►
Lars and the Real Girl
– Ryan Gosling starts bereft, due to his mother's death, and alone. By the end, he's made peace with his mom at her gravesite — and found the “real girl” who loves him.
In each of these stories we ask: “What happened?” What caused this remarkable, life-altering change? It begins with picking the Alpha-Omega, the snapshot of the world before this movie began… and after. If you don't have that, or can't answer the question yet, or aren't
forcing
these changes to occur in your story…
Do.
THE TANGIBLE AND THE SPIRITUAL
Just to pile it on while I've got your attention, let's talk about goals: yours and your hero's.
What is your hero's goal?
is the fourth question I ask writers. And again, when I do, it's because it's missing from your story — or not apparent.
Every hero in every good story has to demonstrate a burning
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