AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is an article I wrote that author, Dave Trottier ended up quoting in his book, Screenwriters Bible. 

CONFESSIONS OF A GENIUS SCRIPT READER 

         According to Quentin Tarantino, if a rookie screenwriter wants to get their script read by the right people in Hollywood they must first find a way to bypass the script readers. In the director’s eyes, a reader will never recommend you since they’re frustrated writers themselves and don’t want anyone else to succeed. Tarantino was killing me softly with his advice, telling my whole life, with his words, killing me softly. Yes, I do read scripts on occasion for extra cash and I’m also currently writing a script that I know everyone will hate and that I’ll never finish anyway. However, I assure you that we readers have nothing but respect for the show-offs who actually complete a script. It’s more accurate to say that we’re hoping your script is very, very, very bad.                 

        You see, in the world of a script reader, the only thing worse than a bad script is a good script. If by some miracle I get a dreaded “quality,” script then I have to go and explain exactly why it’s good and be all celebratory and nurturing and sincere. What a pain in the ass. A script reader’s job is supposed to be simple; you must reassure the client that the huge pile of scripts on his desk is pure trash and not worth considering. It’s just so cushy to coast on the tsunami of Final Draft excrement that flows my way. Unfortunately, we’re not allowed to go all MST3K and have a party trashing people’s work with our scathing comments. You have no idea how hard it is not to shatter these authors’ self-esteem and steal their happiness with my judgments. Believe me, when faced with scripts the likes of Topless Video: The Movie (I kid you not) you too will go Tourettes-y in a flash. 

         We readers must create an endless catalog of euphemisms for: "In the name of all that’s good and true, burn it now, before it spreads!"  Alas, the nastiest comment I can get away with is a “The story lacks freshness,” or a “Doesn’t have the depth to fully explore the issues that it raises.”

          Most people can’t write. Alas, it’s not my place to say such things or to decide what the public wants. After all, there seems to be a sizeable army of loonies who, after a long day of cackling in the street have managed to scrape together some complete sentences on their Apple II-E’s and, more incredibly, were able to dump their psychotic manifesto on a movie exec’s desk. To them I say congrats (and, no I don’t have any spare change), but when it comes to this grade of screenplay, one should interpret the list of “attached stars” on the cover page rather as a directory of people the author will systematically stalk and kill if no one returns his calls. 

          I’m not sure why Tarantino assigns us bottom feeders so much power. I assure you that nobody is listening to our advice. Some scripts will be made no matter what you say and no matter if the public will hate it or not. I learned this lesson the hard way when Kings Ransom (2005), a disaster that the New York Times dubbed the “equivalent of trampled chewing gum on a subway platform,” was dumped into theatres. Rotten Tomatoes score: 0%. You’d think that since I had the pleasure of reading Ransom in its larval stages, I could have somehow helped to destroy it. Alas, this Anthony Anderson/Jay Mohr vehicle was allowed to metastasize and mutate to full fruition. I thought I had made my position clear to the client about this project, starting off my comments with, “The less said about this one, the better.” I’m thinking the client took this as a call to action; a sign to stop talking and start shooting, post haste! Once in a while, while roaming the streaming universe, I'll catch Kings Ransom's thumbnail laughing at me. “Here I am, dipshit!” the thumbnail says, “whaddaya gonna do about it? Ooh, do I lack freshness? I’m real scared. Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!” 

          Alright, so I’m well aware the job I’m doing could be done by any unpaid intern. However, I’d like to think I know what I’m talking about. I went to film school, ok? Need I say more? I think I just might know a little bit more about movies than Mr. and Mrs. Joe Stupid-ass out there. FYI: I make four to five grand a year doing this s**t. You ever made that much scratch in such a miniscule period of time? Didn’t think so. So sit back and be schooled. Thanks to reading hundreds of examples of what not to do, I now know exactly how not to write a movie. And hey, isn’t that almost as good as knowing how to write one? In my book* it is. It’s high time I use my negative writing powers for the benefit of mankind. Allow me to steer you past the typical rookie mistakes that make readers like myself hate your script. 

* also unfinished. 

THE GOLDEN DON'TS 

If you think you can use these shaky devices in a fresh and new way you’re wrong. I’m sure there are many instances in which these gimmicks can be used wisely, but why not err on the side of caution? You already have so many factors stacked against you, such as your inability to write. Why make it harder on yourself? 

1. Voiceovers 

Voiceovers: nobody likes ‘em (see Bladerunner). In documentaries, the voiceover can be a powerful tool (see Grizzly Man), but there’s something about fiction films that render v.o.'s unnecessary. A movie isn’t a book on tape with visual aids. If a few short lines of dialogue or a telling silent moment can speak volumes, why would an audience benefit from being told anything? 

2. Flashbacks 

A flashback can be a dangerous thing in the hands of an amateur and unless you’re writing Memento II: Assignment Miami Beach, it’s a good idea to steer clear of them. Beginners love to send readers on a purposeless trek back and forth in time without contemplating the benefits are or what the point is. All script readers suffer from chronic chronological whiplash because of these jokers. The worst offenders spend so much time in the past that the “present,” becomes but a vague and distant concept that we can never really grasp. Films like Memento and Pulp Fiction are guilty of convincing no-talent writers that the present is strictly squaresville. Perhaps I’m old-fashioned but I sort of dig the present; it’s where I spend a good hundred percent of my time. To quote Mr. Jesus Jones: Right here, right now, there is no other place I’d like to be, yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! 

3. Fourth Wall Breaking 

Newbies also love to break the fourth wall. These fools must think they have super strength. “Hulk smash fourth wall! Aaargh! Hulk need to address audience for lighthearted and wacky fun! Hulk’s rom-com is effervescent and delightful! Aargh!” Unfortunately, once you have a character address the camera you are essentially saying that your movie takes place in a magical fantasy land where anyone can talk to a theatre full of people whenever one feels the need to vent. What’s worse is that many writers use the fourth wall break only a handful of times only to drop it early on as if the main character eventually grew tired of sharing. For the safety and comfort of your characters as well as our own, I’m going to have to ask you to keep everybody behind the wall. Maybe it’s me, but when big stars look directly into my eyes I feel violated, like they’re stealing my soul on top of the $23.50 I just paid for popcorn. 

4. Swearing 

Sometimes a script isn’t so much a screenplay, per se, as an excuse for the writer to use cuss-words in really clever ways, i.e., “Halleh-fuckin-luyah!” Many writers specialize in crafting unique combinations of swears and/or inventing new ones like "fucknuts," a recently discovered gem. Modern cuss artists are way too concerned with swearing and overestimate its importance as a communication tool. Sometimes their scripts even feature mini-discussions about swearing. My favorite example: 

                                   MAN #1 
                              (to MAN #2) 
                        Mother fuckin’ faggot! 
 
                                    MAN #2 
                        Isn’t that a contradiction? 

          Touché. I love swearing, I assure you, but at a certain point, repeating the f-word isn’t writing, it's just swearing. After all, how many times can one say "fucknuts" before it loses all meaning? Either you tell it like it is, or you wax scatological to no purpose. My advice to all up-and-coming swear-ologists; get thee to a Spencer Gifts, grab a super-size box of dirty word fridge magnets and go ape shit. I mean, go crazy. 

5. Thesaurus Abuse 

          Some writers work hard on maintaining a rich and varied vocabulary palette from which to paint their story. Mixing things up word wise is certainly a good thing... for a book report or a term paper on Micronesia. Thesaurus-toting writers don’t understand how movies operate or where a film’s power comes from. An audience couldn’t care less if a character is articulate or the least bit intelligent. Your dialogue need not be eloquent, unique or even interesting. What matters is the psychological makeup of the character saying the words, as well as the circumstances in which he’s saying them. “Please pass the butter,” might be a dull phrase, but if someone says it while wrapped in a straight jacket and writhing around in a padded cell, then maybe we’ll listen. 
          Thesaurus addicted writers never visualize their characters saying their precious dialogue out loud in a big screen context. Perhaps they subconsciously already know what we know; that their movie isn’t going to make it to the big screen, little screen, or any sort of flat surface. Or maybe they assume the Deniro’s, Pacino’s and Streep’s of the world will be chomping at the bit to bring their unspeakable dialogue to life. Alas, not even Deniro could make "pulchritude," or "implacable," sound cool. If you must choose an alternative word, pick one that human beings have actually uttered within the last few hundred years. I always see fossilized words imbedded in dialogue that seem to have come directly from my 11th grade English class vocabulary list. Words like "pneumatic," for example, which one particular author chose to repeat twice in the span of a page: “Oh, that’s so pneumatic, dude!” and, “Way to be pneumatic, asswipe!” 
          Throw your thesaurus away. You have nothing to lose but your pneumatic, pulchritudinous chains. Remember; the better it looks on paper, the worse it’s going to sound on film. How’s that for an unwinnable situation? Take that, Israel/Palestine conflict. 

6. Character Names 

          What’s in a name? Let me list a few characters I’ve had the pleasure of meeting lately; Dusken, Melvah, Floridia, and Frederix. Pleased to meet you all; what ultra-pretentious planet do you hail from? Rule of thumb, if a particular character’s name can’t be found in a 50,000 Baby Names book, the writer has sadly succumbed to the name game, in which monikers of characters tend to have incongruous syllables forced together like Farken, Morfblatt and Gotvill. This name obsession is what ruined Fight Club for me. Tyler Durden? Yeah, right.  
          The name-obsessed writer always makes sure we notice his naming prowess by having someone in the script call attention to it. In a script we’ll simply call Landfill, I came across a cop character named Captain Morgan. GET IT?!?! LIKE THE RUM?!?!?! For a second it seemed the author just might have the good taste to leave this “joke” alone. Unfortunately, our leading man, Bobby, did not. 

                               BOBBY (V.O.) 
                          (re: the Captain) 
                 I held back on the spicy rum jokes. 

Damnit! We were almost in the clear. And the awesome names just keep on coming: 

                               SULTRY VOICE ON PHONE 
                 My name’s Bambi Gamble. 
 
                                BOBBY 
                 That’s an interesting name. 

Is it, though? Here we see the author congratulating himself on yet another kick-ass name. It takes idiot Bobby eighty pages to ask his girlfriend about her last name. 

                              BOBBY  
                What kind of a name is Quattlebaum? 

Is it Jewish? How quirky! 

7. Soundtrack Suggestions 

          Just as a script can deteriorate into a swearing dictionary it can also morph into a playlist of songs currently cramming up the author’s Spotify subscription mommy got him for graduation. If the author is suggesting certain tunes at certain intervals throughout his script, we are headed in the wrong direction: 

EXT. CEMETERY – CONTINUOUS 
Durden’s coffin is lowered into the ground as Poison’s "Every Rose Has its Thorn" gives the scene a sad, introspective mood. 
 
INT. MOVIE THEATRE – WEEKS LATER 
Frederix and Melissfah lean in for a passionate kiss. Lionel Richie’s "Dancing on the Ceiling" takes them to a higher romantic plane. 
 
INT. KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS 
Mr. Morfblatt lifts the toilet lid and unzips his pants as Cutting Crew’s, "I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight" wraps us in a soft ethereal blanky. 

          Just like a book on tape with pictures included, a mix tape with expensive visual accompaniment doesn’t make film producers excited. The money men will not be willing to pay ridiculous licensing fees for your kick-ass music wish list. Unless you’re Zack Braff and you get the green light for your upper middle class, twenty-something white male project, you can literally have people in your movie telling you: 

                “You gotta hear this one song, it’ll change your life I promise you.” 
                                                                            - Natalie Portman to Zach Braff in Garden State 

Here, Portman is really speaking for Braff the writer, who desperately wants to share his incredible taste in music with us. In a sense, Braff is asking himself, “Hey! What music do I like?” and answering with, “I’m so happy you asked. The Shins.” This is embarrassing. Why should we take music suggestions from a guy under thirty whose taste swings the gamut from Colin Hay to Simon and Garfunkel?  

8. Men Writing Women 

          To be fair, most bad writers aren’t mentally challenged. The problem is that their scripts often tell a different story, revealing unconscious desires and hang-ups that they probably didn’t want exposed. This is especially true of male writers who, left to their own devices, often unwittingly create an elaborate patriarchal fantasy world that they themselves rule with an iron penis. Finally they can do with womankind what they’ve always wanted to do. It must be said that even in so-called “quality pictures,” you’ll find that the women characters are only there to be humped. If only pumpkins or bottles of Jergens could talk, eh fellas? 
          The male psyche is a terrible place to visit and yet we readers re forced to make this journey regularly. I recently read a comedy script in which a group of guys go to Japan to teach English and end up starting a gigolo service where Japanese women pay to perform oral sex on male prostitutes. Let me repeat that: The ladies pay the guys to stand there and get blown. In another script a woman confesses she had to “rub one out,” in order to be calm enough for sex later. Is this Girlz Gone Wild? More like Girlz Gone Boyz. 
          Guys, if you’ve never had contact with the opposite sex you are hereby not allowed to put words or anything else for that matter in their mouths. You gotta write what you know and you know nothing, therefore I implore you to stick to these genres: 

1. Sci-Fi (as in a movie taking place on a planet where all women have been eradicated) 
2. Military Sagas 
3. Prison Dramas 

          There you have it. Steer clear of these no-no’s and you can rest easy knowing your script will be thrown in the dumpster based strictly on premise and profit potential alone. Wait, I take that back– far be it from me to discourage you. Besides, us readers are powerless to stop your train wreck. Keep on chuggin’ down the line.