"Things happen" is not a story. It's a sketch.
"There was a problem and we solved it" is not a story. It's a two-act play.
"There was a problem so we tried to solve it and it created an even bigger problem..." Getting closer.
"...so we had to try a different way and realized what the real problem was all along..." Now we're talking.
"And it changed us forever." And there it is.
Most scripts stop somewhere in the middle and never quite get there. Few take it to the next level and even fewer do it well.
There's no one way to tell a story but sometimes you have to keep asking yourself "And then what happened? And then what happened?" And you keep doing that until you can't go any further.
There's a reason why we divide stories into three or five or seven or more acts โ there's no real limit. But it has to be more than two.
One-dimensional is a line. Beginning to end โ nothing in between.
Two D is flat. Setup and payoff but it doesn't mean anything. It lacks impact.
3D is a shape. It has depth and volume and weight.
Maybe you have a good idea. But if it's a great idea you'll know it because it has all these extra facets. You can hold it in your hand. It shines. Like a diamond.
Rather than carry guns, people should carry a fancy gift bag with a tiny hoodie sweatshirt in it. Then if a bad guy tries to attack you, you can just say, โWait, I got you this hoodie as a gift.โ And then when he tries to put it on, his head and arms will get stuck and you can run away.
I ran into a 6-foot-tall rabbit in a purple bow tie this week and before I could even ask, he cuts me off and says, โNO, Iโm not.โ His eyes were red. I think heโd been crying. I thought about inviting him to church for Easter but realized that was a bad idea. Anyway, it was a good reminder that we never really know what people are going through.
I just want what any writer wants.
To feel seen.
Known.
Memorialized.
With a statue.
In a park.
A good park, not some crappy one next to a Walgreens.
And I want school kids to write book reports about me.
With dioramas highlighting historical moments from my life.
And if their construction paper cutout of me isnโt perfect, I want the teacher to tear it out of the shoebox and yell, โThat doesnโt look anything like him, you stupid idiot!โ
And I want songs written about me. Songs that are played on a federal holiday created in my honor.
And on that day every year I will emerge from my mansion and march down the street with a stack of autographed books, and people will scream my name, hoping that I might toss one their way.
And as I disappear down the block, behind me I will hear the sound of beautiful women weeping, telling each other through tears, โNow we can die. For we have seen him. The most humble man who ever lived.โ
Here's a heartbreaking Hollywood storyโฆ
I recently finished the BEST movie script I have ever written. Unfortunately it's about the world of competitive meat slicing and the fact characters are yelling "Cut!โ throughout the script makes it too confusing for modern film crews.