I met with a couple of young writers a few weeks back. They’d completed two drafts, each event accompanied by a sense of fulfilment and great achievement. And after each draft, they’d met with someone like their reader or script consultant or mentor, and their pride and joy, their fruit of sleepless nights, arguments, compromises and exhilarating flights of co-writing, was taken apart in front of their eyes.<\/p>\n
They admitted that maybe they were floundering a little. After a few carefully worded questions, I could see they were angry, too. It’s all so bloody personal<\/b><\/i>, they said tightly.<\/p>\n
No, it’s not<\/i>, I told them. It’s never about you<\/b>. It’s about what you’ve written<\/b><\/i>. Whereupon I joined their reader, et al, in field-stripping their script, along with the following spiel.<\/p>\n
Having been on the receiving end of feedback and notes countless times, -. There – right there<\/i>: ‘on the receiving end’.<\/p>\n
That’s the wrong way to look at it: readers don’t have it in for you the writer. They want to like what you given them.<\/p>\n
It takes no effort at all to declare a script brilliant or needs work or sucks, and hang up<\/strike> walk away.<\/p>\n
A reader – a true reader<\/i> – puts in time and thought into studying your script. As a nail-gnawing writer awaiting feedback, all you might see of this reading process is the report, laying out what works (and what doesn’t), and most importantly, why<\/b> it works (or doesn’t).<\/p>\n
When I’m wearing my reading hat, the better (or worse) the script, I can turn it around in a few hours; but if it’s damaged (but not irrevocably), or passionate (but muddled), I can easily spend double that time on it. You want numbers?<\/i> Okay. Let’s say, for a better (or worse) kind of script, it takes me an hour or so to read it, another hour to mull it over, then an hour to formulate what I’m going to say to the writer. That’s three hours minimum<\/i> that I’m not writing. And if it’s not better (or worse)… don’t tell my manager.<\/p>\n
Anyway, back to our young writers where, after I’d laid their script bare, they said, Okay. Um. Thanks<\/i>. After a few more carefully worded questions, however, I got them started on disputing my feedback.<\/p>\n
That’s the spirit!<\/i> I cried in my besht Connery voishe – but that’s for another post.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I met with a couple of young writers a few weeks back. They’d completed two drafts, each event accompanied by a sense of fulfilment and great achievement. And after each draft, they’d met with someone like their reader or script consultant or mentor, and their pride and joy, their fruit of sleepless nights, arguments, compromises … <\/p>\n