Save the Cat! Strikes Back: More Trouble For... (5 page)

Take a look at how these enhanced loglines tell the tale:

On the verge of
a divorce
, a
bullheaded street-smart cop
is
trapped in his wife's office building by terrorists
and
teams up with a “desk cop” patrolman to thwart them
; but when
he taunts the terrorists, and risks exposing his hostage wife's identity
, he must learn to
adapt to change
to
outsmart the leader
and stop what are really thieves
from getting away with a billion-dollar heist
. (
Die Hard
)

On the verge of
losing the girl he loves,
a
super-powered young man's abilities start to wane as a demented criminal he helped create begins to rain havoc on the city
; but when he
gives up his crime-fighting ways
, he must learn
what it means to make a promise
, before
more innocents die, to save his city from the criminal's super weapon
. (
Spider-Man 2
)

On the verge of
another meaningless year
, a
repressed high school nerd
gets
an unexpected visit from his crush
and is
left on his own under the care of his loser uncle to pursue her
; but when
enlisted by his best friend to win the student presidency
,
he must
realize he has more depth than others think
, before
he loses his crush's friendship forever
, and
can finally gain his snobby peers’ respect
. (
Napoleon Dynamite
)

All of these films can be found in beat sheet form either in
Save the Cat!
or
Save the Cat! Goes to the Movies
. But for fun, try using these logline templates, either the simple A Story version or its enhanced B Story cousin on any idea you have that's not working.

I think you'll be amazed by how it helps.

Juno
: Can you pitch a movie that feels Indie?

And then there was
Juno
.

I'm in the middle of putting this book together and a writer emails to say he just saw
Juno
on the plane. He almost didn't see it, even though he knew it had won the Academy Award® for Best Original Screenplay for writer Diablo Cody. Why? Because in the
airplane movie guide the logline of the film read thusly:

“JUNO – A teenage girl gets pregnant.”

Can you blame him?

This is a lousy logline and does not in any way reflect the experience that is
Juno
or what makes the movie special. And yet, at core, the editors of
Now Og Smart
, Caveman Airline's in-flight magazine, aren't wrong. So, if a movie with a bad logline can win an Oscar®, why should we even care? Why shouldn't we go with our gut, write “Fade In,” and leave the selling to our agent?

The answer is simple.

Because nailing the pitch and the logline not only helps to sell your script — and helps you write a better story — it forces you to find its essence, the “grabber,” and push it to the forefront in your pitch, so you can better deliver in the writing.

My elevator pitch for
Juno
is: “It's a 21st-century
Scarlet Letter
.” I might go on to say: “It's
Baby Boom
with Doc Martens” or ask: “What if instead of saving France, Joan of Arc lived near the Mall of America and decided to have an out-of-wedlock baby?”

Have I got your interest?

Of course I do.

But what about that dreadful logline?

Although we can't control what Caveman Airlines does, when we pitch our yet-to-be-sold idea, we must do just that: sell. The email query you will write is all about a good logline. Does
Juno
have one? I posed this on my website and the winning entry came from writer Christina Ferguson:

JUNO - A plucky pregnant teen from a broken family finds herself at a crossroads between the awkward teen father and the husband of a seemingly perfect adoptive couple.

Well? I don't know about you, but I'm racing to see this movie. Christina nailed it! And she makes us realize another secret:
Juno
may be an “indie”… but it's as “high-concept” as it gets.

And if you're
still
not sure whether this idea, or any one you have, is too plain, too complicated, or hiding the ball, there's no better test than our new story template.

Here's
Juno's
:

On the verge of
another dull year of high school
, a
pregnant teen decides to have her baby and give it up for adoption
; but when
an afternoon with the would-be adoptive husband convinces her she's found the right couple
, she must learn that
some things in life can't be undone
when the
seemingly perfect couple decide to get divorced
.

Can your ideas be improved by using this method?

Totally, homeskillet.

Are you excited?

Say “yes.”

Good! You should be. Because what we've been discussing relates directly to you. If you have cringed while reading this chapter, excellent! Me too! Those “mistakes”? I've committed every one. But one thing that's been revealed for sure is: We can't hide any more.

We need to talk. We need to get in the game by not being afraid to play. To strike back we must be willing to try something new, and getting rid of our fears is the first step.

In truth, no matter how you dice it, it all comes down to hiding the ball. That's what we writers do best. We keep our ideas secret, at first just sharing with our computers, and then only with a few very special friends who understand our very special ways. We're private people; these thoughts have to germinate! We can't say it before we ourselves have a grasp of it. We can't speak it aloud until we're satisfied it's safe to share. To which I now say:

Poppycock!

Or the millennial equivalent thereof.

At the outset of this chapter, I posed the “Seven Warning Signs” that what you are working on doesn't work. Since we now have insight to fix all that, it's old news. “All stories are about transformation” and that includes the death of old ideas. So let me introduce our new creed when it comes to our pitches and loglines — and the business of spinning gossamer into gold:

The Seven Warning Signs I Might Have a Great Idea:

► I love talking about my story; I'm eager to share what I'm working on and get reaction to it.

► I have no fear my idea will be stolen! No one can tell this story like I can, and in fact someone I tell may give me an insight I didn't have before.

► I increase the magic when I say it out loud. It lets the world know I'm a writer with
lots
of great ideas.

► I can't “lose” an idea; it will only get better the more I work on it.

► I look for potential flaws in logic knowing they are an opportunity to make my story stronger.

► Even if someone wrote my story before, I can come up with a new twist that will make my version the best.

► I have a great story and that means I have great scenes — they serve my story, not detract from it!

And speaking of which, I'm not giving up on
Twinkle
. That title's not half bad and there is a way to fix the story. Maybe if we tell it from Annette Bening's character's point of view…

Yeah.

That just might work.

Blake's Blog/
February 9, 2009

“The discipline of clearly stating what your movie is about will make the writing of that story that much better.”

All over the world, since the beginning of my adventure into
Cat!
ness, I've had the pleasure of working with writers in small groups — and what a variety of locales we've met in!

In the past few years, I've led my workshops in a castle in Cornwall, England; in a beautiful farmhouse outside Barcelona, Spain; in a moldy, but evocative, old theater in Seattle; in the back of a Chicago saloon; and yes, God help us all, in the conference room of an Arizona Red Roof Inn. Sometimes in these settings it's raining outside, and the sound of a storm only stokes the imaginary campfire. For no matter where we find ourselves, when you start your pitch the only thing we hear is your story.

It's magic.

To think I almost missed out.

Teaching was not on my mind when I wrote
Save the Cat!
I said as much in its Introduction.
Dude, I have stuff to do
, was my attitude. Here's “The Last Book on Screenwriting You'll Ever Need.” Good luck! And write if you get work!

Well, be careful what you don't wish for, too.

The guy who saw the promise in me, the brave soul who took a chance on a young up-and-comer, was David Lyman. I met David in Chicago during one of my early book signings and learned what an inspirational figure he is. A photographer, filmmaker, producer, and businessman, David is primarily a true “creative,” who's inspired students for over 20 years at his Rockport Photographic Workshops in Maine. David asked me upon our first meeting if I'd be interested in coming to Rockport to conduct a summer class.

And never one to shrink from a challenge, I said: “Yes!”

The fear set in immediately.

On the first day of our five-day course, after my very first lecture about how the “idea” had to grab us, one student raised his hand.
Oh good
, I thought,
a question
.

“That's fine for Hollywood,” the writer began, with a slight look of distaste, “but what about
good
movies?”

At which point I wondered what I'd gotten myself into.

Would you believe it if I told you that by the end of the week, he was one of my most enthusiastic supporters? And the same could be said of everyone in the class. Talk about transformation! That was the week I saw writers stretch and grow… and the week I became a teacher.

I wish for you that special day when you discover the “flow,” when you look up and it's 9:00 a.m. and what seems like minutes later it's 3:00 in the afternoon. That's what happened to me. Who knew I'd love helping writers find their voices? And I've been happily doing so ever since.

But because I love story, and love trouble, the class continues to be about that other moment… the moment we disagree! You see it one way. I see it another. And you're going to have to prove your point because this is only the beginning of the pushback.

And at least I'm smiling when I say: “Try again!”

As I kept getting invited to work with writers, there was no guarantee I could continue to be effective, or that the principles of
Save the Cat!
that worked so well for my first group, and for thousands of readers individually, could be put into play everywhere.