I also wanted to make my stage directions as punchy as possible.
"The description; the action; the action line; the stage directions – these are all terms used
to describe the narrative portion of a screenplay, the material that, along with the dialogue,
makes up the physical writing in screenwriting. For clarity and consistency, I’m going to
refer to the narrative portion of a screenplay as the stage directions in this article.
Crafting quality descriptive prescriptives or stage directions is one of the hardest aspects of screenwriting for film scribes to master. It’s hard because all stage directions are meant to be is description: a simple explanation of what – characters, action, and imagery – is meant to appear on screen during a particular scene. All of the elements that are usually considered hallmarks of “good” writing – clever wordplay; literary style; elaborate descriptions of setting and characters; intricate explorations of the characters’ internal thoughts and feelings; and so on – have no place in this type of writing and their inclusion can (and usually does) actually impede the screenwriting’s effectiveness. Therefore, the stage directions in a screenplay are most effective when the wording is as simple, tight, and stripped down as possible. At the same time, it can’t be boring and must engage the reader. So it’s quite a challenge.To meet it, you must write clearly, and directly. Tell us what is meant to be seen on screen without enhancement or embellishment. Use short sentences – with one idea (one action, one piece of description, etc.) per sentence to maximize clarity. Employ short, punchy paragraphs in order to make the script easy to read. Avoid long sentences and paragraphs – reading description can be tedious under the best of circumstances and will absolutely become so if you force your reader to hack her/his way through giant blocks of type. You want your readers to put their energy into understanding and enjoying your tale, not into the physical process of reading it. And also, the experience of reading the script should indicate the experience you want the audience to have when watching the eventual movie it proposes. If you employ short sentences and brief one, two, or three line paragraphs, your reader will be able to experience the story with the same energy and kinetic pacing that you presumably want the movie to have."
This was a great help to me. I really tried to focus on clever word play but at times found it difficult to find a word to describe what i was trying to get across.
BBC writers room was also a great source of information
"OK - this week I thought I'd hand over the blog to David Roden. He works with me as part of the Academy team, and his job is mostly to read scripts that are sent to us. I asked him what he thought... he did this:
"I read scripts.
I read a lot of scripts.
I can't tell you how many scripts I've read this year because I've lost count.
I get asked on a reasonably regular basis "what makes a script stand out?"
I read so many of them, and have read so many over the years, I can tell very quickly what I've got in store for me as I pass from page two to page three and onwards.
Most days I'm never wrong, but some days ... and, god I love those days ... some days I couldn't be more wrong about what a script holds in store for me. Some brilliant soul out there has told me a story that completely knocks me for six.
That's why I am passionate about the job I do. There are a lot of brilliant writers out there ... and also some good writers... some competent but dull writers... writers who are technically not brilliant but have something really exciting to say... and some very deluded people who think they can write... and I read scripts from all of them on a daily basis. Not all writers are the same.
But every single time, I will pick the "technically not very accomplished but got a spark of something really special" script over the "technically hugely accomplished but got no life or heart at all" script. I promise you. Structure can be taught. Heart, passion, and soul can't.
A trial script for a TV soap... I will scream if I get sent another bloody one of these. I want original scripts - something a writer is passionate about. Not some half-arsed attempt at a soap you barely watch.
Cop Shows full of clichés - such as: a rogue detective with psychic powers; good cop / bad cop routine with dialogue ripped off from Quentin Tarantino's back catalogue of films; cop with a self-destructive vice because they've lost their partner in a failed bank robbery; high flier with a dark secret goes back to seaside fishing village where they were born; blah, blah, blah.
Short Film Scripts - a completely different medium and style and format. Don't ... just, don't.
Angels and Demons - science-fiction scripts that feature an age old battle between heaven and hell in a post-apocalyptic city that are pitched at a Saturday tea time slot - and, one of the main characters has died and is trapped in this limbo, and to find a way out they have to solve the mystery of how and why they died. You might think I'm joking, but I get at least two versions of this story a week. Every week. Please don't be derivative of your favourite shows - be unique and bold and brilliant. Make me sit up and say, I wish I'd thought of that.
Starting with a voice over or a monologue - just because the brilliant 'American Beauty' did it, doesn't mean every script should start that way. More often than not, it's a lazy way of imparting information.
Directing in the Stage Directions - 'whip pan to', or 'crash zoom', or 'crane up to ...' Stop it! Stop it now! You are telling me a story, not telling me how you would direct it. Your stage directions should be brilliant prose. They should read like a novel - an un-put-down-able novel. They should be sparse, exciting, precise, punchy, create an atmosphere, make me laugh, draw me in ... but NEVER tell me how it should be directed, because I'll assume that you'd rather be a director instead. Read a Russell T Davies script - he is the master of genius stage directions.
Irrelevant Stage Directions ...please don't give me too many stage directions that tell me information about characters' family trees or feelings... a note I often give is 'can we try to find a way of dramatizing the stage directions'... if you can't dramatize it, cut it out, it isn't necessary. And, don't break up a wonderful, passionate piece of dialogue to say something bland like: 'She sits down slowly' or 'She nervously fiddles with the toggle on her parka' ... "
Get in late, leave early...
William Goldman said, “You always attack a movie scene as late as you possibly can. You always come into the scene at the last possible moment.” The same rule applies at the end of a scene. Get the hell out – quick!
A scene in a screenplay should begin as late as possible. What does this mean? Let's take an example. A husband and wife have been separated. The husband is the protagonist in the story. He and his wife are meeting for lunch to talk about their future. The wife is going to tell him she wants a divorce.
Most beginners would spend a lot of time getting the husband to this lunch meeting. He might take some time deciding what he is going to wear. He might dawdle on the way, so as not to be early and appear to be anxious. He might fortify himself with a drink or two. Finally he'll be met at the restaurant by a hostess and led to the booth where his wife waits. They'll be small talk. A waiter will take an order for drinks. More small talk. A waiter will take their lunch orders. More small talk. Eventually they'll get around to talking about their marriage, at which time the wife will say she wants a divorce.
Although there are dramatic contexts in which this slow development can work (see below), in most cases this scene will be too slow. It has too much fat. What is the point of the scene? The news of divorce. A more skilled screenwriter, therefore, would open the scene just before this moment. The couple is already seated at lunch. They are eating silently. Suddenly the wife pops the news.
But there is a context in which the slow version is stronger than the more efficient version. Let's say that while getting ready, the husband fetches a handgun, loads it, and hides it on his person. Now where there was slow development and fat before, there is tension because we are on the edge of our seats, wondering what he is going to do with the gun. And the longer we have to wait, the more tense the story becomes.
In other words, for slowly developing scenes to work, there must be an element to justify their pacing. In general, the crisper the scene, the better.
When Should a Scene End?
What about getting out of this scene?
In the first version, without the gun, beginners would have the wife pop the news and have this lead into an argument, probably the kind of argument we've heard many times before. This argument may take several pages, even though we learn nothing new from it.
A more skilled screenwriter might have the wife's news be the last line in the scene. A quick look at the husband's reaction and cut: maybe to the husband having a drink in a bar, or talking with a friend, or sleeping with his mistress.
Once again, the gun changes everything because it adds a dynamic new element to the dramatic mix. The wife gives the news. A beginning writer might have the husband take out the gun and shoot her. Chaos results. The husband is wrestled to the ground by customers. He barely gets away.
A more skilled screenwriter would surprise us. The husband takes out the gun and points it at his temple. Would he really? The wife looks like she's about to have a heart attack. He pulls the trigger. Nothing. "I was going to shoot you but I chickened out," he says. "I took out the bullets. Have a nice life." He leaves.