Bring the Funny Read online

  That’s where I met Doug, the manager of the agency. Doug was extremely heavy and very chatty. Before I could hand him my resume, he cut to the chase …

  “Writer or actor?” he said.

  “Writer,” I told him.

  “I’m a comic actor,” he told me. And he went on to explain exactly how he intended to be the next hugely successful overweight movie star.

  This was the late 1990s. According to Doug, there was an unbroken chain of funny obese movie stars stretching all the way from Fatty Arbuckle in the 1920s to John Belushi in the 1980s and Chris Farley in the 1990s. Naturally, Doug would be the next to break … soon.

  Now if I had a dollar for every wacky story every crazy Hollywood actor ever told me about how he or she was destined for fame, I’d be a bazillionaire. But Doug did tell me something useful.

  He told me to go see John Shaner.

  John Shaner is a produced screenwriter who, as far as I know, still lives in Hollywood, where he gives private lessons in screenwriting to a small group of students.

  I started taking lessons from John. And John happens to be an old friend of Jack Nicholson, who apparently once told John that his motto for success in the entertainment industry is this: everything matters.

  That’s right. Everything.

  So if you’re a screenwriter, it means the story matters, the dialogue matters, the format, the punctuation, the spelling, the title, the type of brads you use to bind the script …

  It all matters.

  And if you want to succeed as a screenwriter, you must bend every part of your life toward that overarching goal. Because it all matters. The car you drive, the place you live, the people you date, your socks.

  Yes, your socks. You probably think I’m kidding at this point, but even that matters. Yes, even your attitude about me, Greg, matters because following my advice will help you, and I can’t help you if you think I don’t matter.

  OK, I’ll stop.

  But know this: if you’re diving into a career as a comedy screenwriter, you’re jumping headfirst into a hornet’s nest of talented, desperate people from all over the world … all with an overwhelming drive to make it before you. Despite you.

  They will feast on your bones. Your comedy bones.

  Which is why you need to close your eyes, kick your feet together like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, and say, over and over, to yourself—everything matters.

  Then do some heavy breathing and read on, because I’m only just starting to school you.

  Prepare Yourself

  Speaking of stuff that matters, I’m going to tell you the most important key to success as a screenwriter—diagramming.

  Bored yet? Don’t be. Skip ahead and ignore this section at your peril, because the skill I am about to show you is as necessary for your success as would be a compass to a person lost in the wilderness. Or flint. You use flint to make fire, right? I don’t know. I’ve never been lost in the wilderness. But I have been lost in Hollywood, and diagramming is the skill that kept me from panicking and running back to Maryland, from whence I came, with my tail between my legs.

  Whenever I go to a party hosted by a successful screenwriter—and I define successful as, well, having better credits than, say, me—I find myself nosing around.

  At some point, I’ll need to visit the rest room, and, when I do, I make sure to wander there via the longest possible route through as much of the house as possible. The reason—I want to see the host’s office, or at least the library. Wherever she or he actually sits and writes.

  And what I inevitably find in that office or library—and sometimes the bathroom—is a huge pile of scripts. And those scripts are usually accompanied by extensive notes. That’s because successful screenwriters read each other’s work. Compulsively.

  If you are a TV writer, you read TV scripts. If you are a comedy screenwriter, you read every comedy screenplay for every comedy film that’s ever been made: the ones you love, the ones you hate—all of them. And that includes unproduced spec scripts—by your friends, by writers you’ve never met, by anyone. You read everything and study it, especially everything in your genre or any genre you’re considering writing.

  And when you read those scripts, you make notes. You chart the structure of the story so that you can easily review it later. All successful screenwriters do this differently, but they do it.

  Not only do you diagram to unlock the secrets of a particular script, but you diagram to coach yourself into being a better writer. Check this out …

  Here’s a diagram of Trainwreck. Each paragraph represents a scene in the movie.

  _________

  Trainwreck (2015)

  Written by Amy Schumer

  Act 1

  Flashback: In the 1990s, Gordon TELLS his daughters (including young Amy) that monogamy is impossible.

  CUT TO current day: Amy, grown up, SLEEPS with random guys, never stays the night after sex, and tells us in voiceover she cheats on her boyfriend.

  Amy BREAKS her no-sleepover rule with a guy. (6)

  At work (Amy works at a magazine), Amy and Nikki, her friend, JOKE about sex.

  Their boss (the editor) BULLIES Nikki.

  Writers PITCH ideas for articles to the boss.

  Amy PITCHES an idea, but the boss REJECTS it and INSTRUCTS her to write an article about a sports doctor. Amy RESISTS, but the boss DANGLES a promotion if Amy does well with the piece. Amy TELLS her she needs money to help Gordon, who now suffers from multiple sclerosis.

  Amy and Kim, her sister, MOVE Gordon into an assisted-living home. They REMINISCE about, and CRITICIZE, Gordon for being a bad father years ago.

  In bed, Amy MAKES Steven, her boyfriend, TALK DIRTY. He TRIES, but FAILS.

  Amy BEFRIENDS a homeless man.

  Gordon ACTS OUT at his new home. Amy struggles to CONTAIN him. (21)

  Act 2

  Amy INTERVIEWS Aaron, the sports doctor, and meets his best friend, Lebron James. Amy PRETENDS to know a lot about sports but Aaron FIGURES out she’s lying.

  At a movie, Steven CONFRONTS an angry guy but USES words that make Amy WONDER about his sexuality.

  Steven DISCOVERS that Amy cheats on him.

  Amy LEARNS Kim is pregnant.

  Amy and Kim TELL Gordon about Kim’s pregnancy and Gordon CRITICIZES Kim’s stepson for appearing weak.

  Amy INTERVIEWS Aaron and JOKES with him, FLIRTING.

  Kim TELLS Amy she’s moving Gordon to a cheaper home and Amy PANICS, worried. Aaron TAKES Amy to dinner.

  Amy and Aaron MAKE LOVE. Amy wants to leave before morning and STRUGGLES to stay the night. (45)

  At work, Donald, Amy’s young intern, tries to LEARN from her, but Amy IGNORES him.

  Aaron REACHES OUT to Amy, CALLING her the day after sex, but Amy REFUSES to believe it’s really happening.

  Aaron ASKS for Lebron’s advice about Amy, but Lebron tries to CONVINCE Aaron to move to Cleveland. (52)

  Amy WATCHES Aaron OPERATE on a patient. Aaron ASKS Amy to make a commitment to him, but she RESISTS.

  Gordon gets hurt at the home, and Amy GOES there to help. (54)

  Aaron TREATS Gordon, CHARMING Amy.

  Amy CONFESSES to Kim that she likes Aaron so much it scares her.

  Lebron GRILLS Amy about her intentions with Aaron.

  Montage: Amy and Aaron in love and happy …

  Lebron PLANTS doubts in Aaron’s mind about Amy. (67)

  At Kim’s baby shower, Aaron MAKES friends, WORKING his way into Amy’s life.

  Aaron SAYS he wants to have kids, GIVING Amy an anxiety attack.

  Kim’s husband PLANTS doubts in Aaron’s mind that Amy is promiscuous. (70)

  Amy ALIENATES other women by TALKING bluntly about her sex life.

  Gordon dies. (73)

  At the funeral, Amy EULOGIZES Gordon, EMBRACING his complexity.

  Kim CRITICIZES Amy for how she treats her family. Amy REJECTS her criticism.

  Aaron TELLS Amy he loves her, but Amy BERATES hi
m.

  Montage: Amy is sad without Aaron …

  Amy’s boss CANCELS the article she wrote about Aaron. (80)

  The night before an event honoring Aaron, Aaron TELLS Amy he is nervous and ASKS for her support.

  At the event, Amy TAKES a phone call during Aaron’s speech, causing them to FIGHT. He ACCUSES her of not supporting him. (90)

  Aaron and Amy TRY to work out their problems but ARGUE all night.

  The next day, Aaron goes to work, exhausted, and accidentally HARMS a patient.

  Amy and Aaron FIGHT. He CRITICIZES her lifestyle. They BREAK UP. (95)

  Act 3

  Donald COMES ON to Amy and she GOES TO BED with him before she LEARNS he’s underage and his mom CATCHES them in bed.

  Amy’s boss FIRES her because of the incident with Donald. (100)

  Montage: Amy and Aaron both feeling lonely …

  Aaron OPERATES on the patient he harmed and, this time, SUCCEEDS.

  Lebron STAGES an intervention to CONVINCE Aaron to get Amy back, but Aaron RUNS away. (105)

  Amy APOLOGIZES to Kim for mistreating her and CONFESSES that she feels “broken.” Kim’s stepson MAKES Amy miss Aaron. Amy and her family BOND.

  Amy CLEANS out her life. (111)

  Amy SELLS her article about Aaron to a different magazine.

  Amy STAGES a big dance number with cheerleaders to WIN Aaron’s heart, and they KISS.

  I’ve diagrammed hundreds of movies, and I always learn something from it. You can diagram while slowly watching the movie—your finger perched over the pause button—or reading the script.

  In either case, the diagram should be written in shorthand. Don’t tell the whole story or get into the details. Just break the story into three acts, as per Syd Field, occasionally noting the amount of minutes or pages that have passed by putting that number in parentheses.

  Amy Schumer diagramming her next screenplay in her head.

  Most importantly, describe the actions of the story using CAPS. A screenwriter’s greatest enemy is passivity. When characters fail to act—especially protagonists—they bore us. And, as we’ll discuss later in this book, good drama usually results from active characters making choices and taking actions throughout a story. Use CAPS to remind yourself that screenplays need ACTION in every scene. Again, you’re coaching yourself to be a better screenwriter.

  Of course, actions can be subtle and subtextual. Diagramming a different movie—one that I’ll make up for purposes of example—you might write something like this:

  Wendy UNDERMINES Paul’s feelings of self-worth by IMPLYING he can’t handle his new job.

  Or this:

  George RECONSIDERS marrying Wendy, then EMAILS her to TELL her the marriage is off.

  But don’t stop there. If you’re anything like me—or many other screenwriters—you may also need to remind yourself that actions need obstacles. You can do that by using the words despite and but in your diagram.

  So instead of writing this:

  Martha SEDUCES Simon and tries to STEAL the diamond.

  You write this:

  Martha SEDUCES Simon despite Simon’s drunkenness, and tries to STEAL the diamond despite the fact that he doesn’t have it.

  Or possibly this:

  Martha SEDUCES Simon and tries to STEAL the diamond, but Simon THROWS UP on her dress and CONFESSES he hasn’t got it.

  Below is the beginning of a diagram of 21 Jump Street. The movie made over $200 million, so it’s worth more than a passing glance. As you’ll see, I use despite and but in liberal amounts.

  _________

  21 Jump Street (2012)

  Screenplay by Michael Bacall, Story by Michael Bacall & Jonah Hill

  Act 1

  Flashback to eight years ago: Schmidt, a nerdy high schooler, ASKS a girl to the prom despite the fact that he’s incredibly nervous, but Jenko, a jock, HUMILIATES him.

  The principal BARS Jenko from prom because his grades suck despite Jenko PLEADING with him.

  CUT TO present day: Schmidt and Jenko meet at the police academy. Jenko FAILS an exam, then ASKS Schmidt to be friends despite what happened in high school. Schmidt AGREES despite his fear of Jenko.

  Schmidt and Jenko BOND as they HELP each other graduate despite the difficulties of making it through the academy.

  Later, as cops, they try to PATROL on bikes, but hate it.

  They try to BUST some drug dealers, but fail. (9:21)

  _________

  I’ll stop here. You can find a full outline of 21 Jump Street in the back of this book.

  Again, it’s amazing what a few little words can do. Despite and but help identify the dramatic obstacles that prevent characters from achieving their goals—or at least achieving them easily.

  As a general rule, it should be incredibly difficult for characters to achieve their goals—otherwise there’s no story. After all, Little Red Riding Hood needs her Big, Bad Wolf. There’s no story without him.

  In the movie The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Andy (played by Steve Carrell) needs his fear of intimacy. In Meet the Parents, Greg Fokker (Ben Stiller) needs his imperious father-in-law (Robert De Niro). In Anchorman, Ron Burgundy (Will Ferrell) desperately needs Veronica Corningstone (Christina Applegate). Without her, who would confront his bloated self-image and keep him from achieving his goals?

  I didn’t invent diagramming. I just personalize it to fit my unique needs as a screenwriter. You should do the same.

  How long must screenwriters continue diagramming movies? For as long as they want to continue working in the industry.

  Seriously. This is what working writers do to stay working. If I’m lucky enough to get hired to write an adaptation of a comic novel about soccer, then you can bet the first thing I’m going to do once I get the gig—after I pay off my credit card balance and take my agent out to dinner—is to diagram every comedy movie I can find about soccer.

  Actually, by the time I get that gig, I’ve probably already diagrammed those movies because that’s how I earned the job—by researching every soccer movie and sports comedy ever made. Which allowed me to explain to the producers why mine would be even better—no, wait: the greatest sports comedy ever put on film.

  I know what you’re thinking. If you spend a lot of time researching other people’s movies, you’ll lose yourself. Your sense of specialness as a writer will slip away. Or even worse—you’ll become redundant. Your writing will stink to high heaven with the pungent odor of recycled moments from other peoples’ movies.

  You should be so lucky.

  Becoming a successful screenwriter means building on your knowledge of what other successful screenwriters have done and are currently doing. It means never writing in the dark.

  Whether you use the most basic form of diagram, like the one I showed for Trainwreck, or the more comprehensive type I used for 21 Jump Street, the point is to do it—over and over until your eyes hurt and your fingers beg you to stay far, far away from the keyboard. Because that’s a good sign. It means you may actually be doing enough diagramming.

  And as you diagram all these screenplays, you need to ask yourself this question about each one: Did the writer seek to sell or make this script?

  If the writer was strictly a screenwriter, looking only to sell the script, then the writer was writing to be read by a buyer. But if the writer intended to direct the movie, then, to some degree, the writer was writing for herself. And that’s a very different kind of communication.

  If you’re writing scripts to sell, you should diagram screenplays that were strictly written for sale. They will be your best templates.

  I’ve heard of screenwriting teachers who use The Big Lebowski as an example for students. Well, I have a problem with that.

  Don’t get me wrong. I love The Big Lebowski. It’s one of my favorite Coen brothers movies. When Walter tells Donny, “I don’t roll on Shabbos!” I’m on the floor laughing until I cough up my gefilte fish (and if you don’t know what gefilte fish is, consider yo
urself lucky).

  But here’s the problem: The Big Lebowski is a Coen brothers movie. They are auteur filmmakers. And by the time they shot that script, they’d made six previous films, including the hugely successful Fargo.

  So it’s safe to say they were not writing for the studio reader—as you may be doing. No, it’s safe to say they were writing primarily for themselves. After all, they know—unlike most screenwriters—that they will be the people shooting and producing their scripts. So their writing will naturally be different. Very different. They may write all sorts of camera angles into a script that you should not write unless you intend to shoot your screenplay. They may have already known which actors would play the lead roles, which you won’t know when writing your spec script.

  In fact, let me go out on a limb here and say that if The Big Lebowski had been written as a spec script by an aspiring screenwriter with no track record, it would never have gotten close to being bought or made. That’s because the script presents a largely passive protagonist. And that’s a killing flaw in just about any script, but it’s even more deadly in a script that a writer intends to sell. After all, an aspiring, unknown screenwriter cannot say—as the Coen brothers can—“I can make it work.”

  And there’s the rub. If you’re not an acclaimed filmmaker with a long history of success, don’t expect the industry to sit back and let you violate the rules of screenwriting. Nope, as an aspiring comedy screenwriter, you will be held to the highest standards of the profession. There will be no room for error, because nobody trusts you. So write with that in mind. Cut the camera angles and directorial description. Don’t assume anything about who will be playing the lead roles.

  But back to researching other peoples’ scripts—when you are doing it (and you must do it), it is critically important that you know what you’re reading and whether it’s a good template for your own writing.

  The same goes for whom you are reading, which is why you must …