Dancing with lasers – how to avoid seven novice screenwriter problems
By Michael McKown
The difference between a novice screenwriter and a pro is this: the pro knows how to dance around lasers. The novice walks right into a laser for a slicing and dicing. Herewith, I present seven common mistakes that newbie screenwriters make.
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Let’s suppose you’ve got a killer idea, maybe a few scenes already buzzing in your head, and you’re ready to make the next acclaimed film. But writing a screenplay isn’t just vomiting your genius onto a page. It’s a craft, and like any craft, it’s easy to trip over your own feet when you’re starting out. Novice screenwriters, bless their enthusiastic hearts, tend to make the same mistakes over and over. Let’s dive into the top seven mistakes that newbies make and why seasoned writers know better.
Rookie stumble number one: new screenwriters often fall in love with their own words. They write dialogue that sounds like a Shakespearean monologue, not like actual humans talking. Picture this: you’re watching a gritty crime drama, and the tough-as-nails detective turns to his partner and says, “Verily, the miscreant hath eluded us once more!” Uh, what? People don’t talk like that, not even in period pieces.
Newbies pack their scripts with flowery, overwritten dialogue that feels like it’s trying to win a poetry contest. Pros know dialogue should sound natural, clipped, and specific to the character. Take Pulp Fiction. Quentin Tarantino’s characters don’t wax poetic; they talk about burgers and foot massages in a way that feels raw and real. Pros trim the fat and let characters speak like they’re in a bar, not a lecture hall.
Rookie mistake number two? Starting the story in the wrong place. New screenwriters often think they need to explain everything upfront, like they’re writing a history textbook. They’ll spend the first 20 pages showing their hero’s childhood, their first job, and the time they got food poisoning at Taco Bell.
By the time the actual plot kicks in, the audience is snoring. Pros know to jump into the action fast. Look at Mad Max: Fury Road. That movie doesn’t mess around. It throws you into a high-octane chase within minutes. Backstory? It’s sprinkled in later, like seasoning on a steak, not dumped on like a whole bottle of A1. Start where the story gets juicy, not at the beginning of time.
Rookie screw-up number three: the sin of writing a passive protagonist. Newbies often create main characters who just float through the story, reacting to stuff but never driving the plot. It’s like their hero is a feather in the wind, not a bulldozer carving a path. This makes for a boring script because the audience wants someone to root for, someone who does something.
Pros craft protagonists with clear goals and the gumption to chase them. An excellent example is Ellen Ripley in Alien. She’s not sitting around waiting for the xenomorph to politely leave; she’s fighting tooth and nail to survive. A pro makes their hero active, even if they’re flawed or reluctant at first.
Rookie flub number four: Overloading the script with clichés. You know the ones: the cop who’s one day from retirement, the villain who monologues about their evil plan, the love interest who exists just to be saved.
New screenwriters lean on these tropes because they’re familiar, like a comfy old sweatshirt. But that sweatshirt’s got holes, and it’s not impressing anyone. Pros avoid clichés because, well, because they’re clichés. They twist expectations or subvert tropes entirely. In The Dark Knight, the Joker isn’t just a cackling bad guy; he’s a chaotic force of nature who challenges Batman’s entire worldview. Pros dig deeper, creating characters and situations that feel fresh, not like they were photocopied from a Hollywood playbook.
Rookie blunder number five: ignoring structure. New screenwriters sometimes think structure is for suckers, that their story is so unique it doesn’t need those pesky three acts or turning points. Spoiler alert: it does. Without structure, your script feels like a road trip with no map, fun for a bit, then everyone’s lost and cranky. And the car just ran out of gas.
Pros know structure is their secret weapon. It’s not about following a formula; it’s about guiding the audience through a satisfying emotional journey. Look at The Shawshank Redemption. It’s got clear acts: Andy’s arrival, his struggles, and that glorious payoff. Pros use structure like a skeleton, giving the story shape without making it rigid.
Rookie screenplay suicide number six: the mistake of writing for the wrong medium. Newbies often forget that a screenplay isn’t a novel or a stage play, it’s a blueprint for a visual story. They’ll write long, flowery descriptions of a character’s inner thoughts or a sunset that takes three paragraphs. Newsflash: the audience can’t see what’s in your head.
Pros write lean, focusing on what can be shown on screen. Instead of “John feels betrayed,” they show John slamming his fist on the table. Jaws doesn’t waste pages describing the shark’s psychology; it shows the fin cutting through the water, and that’s enough to make you scream. Pros keep it visual, letting the images do the heavy lifting.
Rookie gaffe number seven: new screenwriters often don’t revise enough. They finish their first draft, pop some champagne, and think they’re done. That’s like baking a cake and serving it half-cooked; nobody’s eating that mess. First drafts are always rough, full of plot holes, clunky dialogue, and scenes that drag like a Monday morning.
Pros know rewriting is where the magic happens. They’ll revise multiple times, cutting fluff, sharpening characters, and tightening the pace. Take Toy Story. Early drafts had Woody as a mean-spirited jerk, but Pixar rewrote him into the lovable cowboy we know today. Pros embrace the grind, knowing each pass makes their script stronger.
So, what’s the takeaway? To belabor the obvious, writing a screenplay is like building a house. You need a solid foundation, the right tools, and a willingness to fix the leaks. Newbies trip because they’re eager, and that’s okay; enthusiasm is the fuel. But pros avoid these mistakes by respecting the craft. They write dialogue that sings, start the story with a bang, give their hero a mission, dodge clichés, lean on structure, keep it visual, and revise like their life depends on it.
If you’re a novice, don’t sweat it. Every pro was a rookie once. Just learn these lessons, keep writing, and soon you’ll be dodging those lasers like a pro yourself. Now go crank out that script, and don’t let your detective say “verily” unless he’s time-traveling from the Renaissance.
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