After college, I found myself in a grad school-adjacent writing workshop. One of my classmates wanted to write a script about a guy who tries to fix his relationship with his estranged brother on a road trip. It was, if I recall correctly, based on a real road trip my classmate actually had with his real life brother. The tone he was going for was something like the calmer road trip movies of the past. A hangout movie with the camaraderie of Chef mixed with the emotional depth of Two for the Road or Nebraska or something like that.
He brought in pages and talked about the idea, and many in the class suggested that he add some ticking time bomb elements. Maybe the brothers need to say goodbye to their dying father, and maybe there’s some sort of clause in the father’s will that if they’re not at a certain place at a certain time together, then they forfeit their inheritance.
Now, yes, if he were to add either of these elements, they could make his script resemble something more Hollywood friendly, and yes, these ideas could add a sense of drama and narrative propulsion. Hell, the dying father idea’s actually pretty good on its own!
But the second part, the inheritance one, really stuck in my craw. Sure, it’s dumb as an idea for a variety of reasons. However, the bigger problem to me is the supposition that you have to stick to a formula or a principle even if it flies in the face of your intent. It’s one thing to know why ticking time bombs work as a trick, but it’s another to understand why that trick was invented in the first place.
The Utility of Tools
There are those who believe that there are rules in screenwriting and those who believe that there aren’t. In reality, it’s all about what works best for your sensibility and the story you’re trying to tell. Though I’m personally more of a rules guy, I don’t like to think of them as “rules” so much as tools. Think of it like this: You want to drive a nail into a wall. Sure, you could use a heavy object to ram it in or try to push it in or any number of alternate methods. Or you could just use a hammer. It’s the tool designed for the job.
Ticking time bombs serve a specific purpose, but they’re not the tool designed to convey the intimacy of two brothers reforging their bond on a road trip. Adding a layer like that just because you’re expected to do so may harm your story.
Notes not Ultimatums
So what does this have to do with notes? Simple. Screenwriting is not a checklist. There are weapons we have at our disposal that we can deploy when we want to earn our audience’s empathy, but there’s more than one way to tell an effective story. Don’t tell your writer that the protagonist absolutely has to save a cat. Tell your writer that you’re struggling to empathize with their lead character. Don’t tell your writer that the script needs to be out of act one by page thirty. Tell them that the story’s taking too long to establish itself, or maybe it moves too abruptly. Don’t just quote the rules. Remember why they were invented, and remember the function they’re trying to serve.
Rules can absolutely help, but if you don’t consider each rule’s intended purpose, they can run contrary to a specific kind of tone or steer the script to the middle of the road. A directionless writer may need to be pointed to a Syd Field book, but maybe not the writer who’s trying to accomplish something specific.
There is no good or bad, but there is effective and not effective. Maybe something works for you that breaks or ignores the rules. Maybe it doesn’t. Either way, it’s more fulfilling for you and helpful to your writer if you do more than just quote the rules. What worked for you? What didn’t? Why? Express yourself. That’s why we’re all here in the first place.