introducing...

Have you ever read one of those scripts that starts with the main character just kind of hanging around doing nothing? Or a character tells you in expository language what's wrong with them -- maybe they're having a chat somewhere being dull. Sometimes writer take the concept of "Ordinary World" (those first ten pages) a little too literally. There's a notion that you have ten pages to grab your reader. I would argue that you have one. The first page. Why not start your movie there? Instead of showing us some dull ponderous moment jump right into the action.

Take a look at the opening page from Knocked Up.

EXT. BEN’S HOUSE - DAY

BEN STONE, 23, cute in a chunky Jewish guy sort of way, boxes one of his roommates, MARTIN. His other roommates, JAY and JASON fight with broom sticks. JONAH drinks beer on the couch spectating.

Quick Images:

• We see Ben and Jay fighting. At one point they fight with gloves which are on fire, balancing on a plank over a dirty pool.
• Ben now has a fishbowl filled with weed smoke over his head. There is a smoking joint in his mouth, making the bowl get cloudier and cloudier. He starts coughing hysterically and takes it off.
• A boom box is playing. The boys are now free style rapping. It is terrible but they are having a blast. Pot is being smoked. Beer is around.

EXT. AMUSEMENT PARK - A DIFFERENT DAY

Ben and roommates ride a terrifying rollercoaster.

INT. ALLISON’S BEDROOM - MORNING
ALISON SCOTT, pretty, 24, wakes up to her radio alarm.

Okay - that was actually half a page. We met the two main characters and we know plenty.

Here's what we know:

• Ben is a man child.
• Ben and his friends love pot and love having a good time.
• Ben probably doesn't have a job. I'm guessing this from the context.
  
• Anything is possible with these guys. They're not your run of the mill lame potheads. They actually came up with the idea to fight on a plank over a pool with burning gloves on.
  
• I also met Allison - In one line I know that she's the opposite of them. How? Juxtoposition and she wakes up to an alarm clock.
• She's got someplace to go. Probably a job. She's pretty - she takes care of herself...
• Unlike Ben who is cute but chunky.

That was one half of a page. The writer here does not load the script down with a million camera angles and editorial comments ie: Ben knows that his carefree days are soon coming to an end. (Directors, I'm talking to you). He trusts that the reader can get the film without being pummeled by his vision. He creates an easy spacious read that gives us everything we need to know and just that. Save the vision for the shot sheet.

Different genre, here from Bourne Ultimatum:

EXT. NIGHT. HOUSING PROJECTS -- MOSCOW

SMASH CUT

MOTION -- flat out -- it’s us -- we’re running -- stumbling -- breathing rushed -- blood in the snow...

We are JASON BOURNE and we’re running down an alley... Supered below: MOSCOW
BLUE LIGHTS -- from the distance -- strobing through the night -- rushing toward us -- POLICE CARS -- three of them - - SIRENS HOWLING as they bear down -- closer -- faster -- until they whip past the alley...

Up against the wall -- BOURNE is hidden in the shadows.

BOURNE is badly wounded -- shot through the shoulder -- bruises and broken bones from the final car chase in SUPREMACY...

With a GROAN, he lifts himself up, staggers across a park toward a PHARMACY...

4 INT. NIGHT. PHARMACY -- MOSCOW

ROWS of MEDICINE and FIRST AID supplies, and in the background, a DOOR being jimmied...It’s BOURNE...The ALARM goes off...

MACRO ON -- MEDICINE BOTTLE VICODIN, as BOURNE grabs it...Then PENICILLIN... Then SURGICAL SUPPLIES: Scalpel...Forceps...Sutures...Cotton gauze...Betadine...

BOURNE finds a large sink...Rests his gun there...Lays out SURGICAL SUPPLIES...Checks out his back in the mirror...Opens the capsules of penicillin and pours the powder directly into the wound...Begins treating himself...

Okay what do we know?

• We're on the run with Jason Bourne. Who is this guy?
• He can run with a bullet in him and broken bones. That's serious pain. Who knows how to manage that kind of pain? Someone with special training. I'm thinking some kind of military training.
• He also knows how to find a pharmacy in Moscow and treat himself. Does he speak the language? Maybe. More special training here. Knows how to jimmy a lock. Has emergency medical training.
  
• And he's pretty cool about it -- there are Russian cops closing in but he's keeping his head as he REMOVES A FREAKING BULLET FROM HIS BODY!!!
• Anything is possible with this guy -- I want to stick around and find out more.

And that was 3/4 of a page. Here in Bourne we see some shots described, but they're specific to the plot. We need that macro on Vicodin to understand what is happening.

When I write a script I like to look at how other writers, better writers, have done it. Those scripts become a standard. Am I writing something that's as good as? If not, how can I make it so? Am I being economical? Am I trusting the reader? Am I grabbing the reader as I introduce my characters? If not, why?

Script Questionnaire

Years ago I was listening to a podcast from Michael Ardnt, writer of Little Miss Sunshine, and he was talking about the process he went through to get the script into shape before giving it to a producer. One of the tools he used was a questionnaire. His reasoning being that studios spend money on test screenings to find out what works in a movie, why not do the same for a script. Interestingly the questionnaire allowed him to get intelligent and useful feedback from people who weren't necessarily familiar with screenplays. He divided the questionnaire into 3 parts.

For the first part he listed the top five or so main characters along with a brief description and asked for a 1 to 10 ranking (1 being unfavorable and 10 being the most favorable) along with general comments.

He then did the same for the plot/story, listing the top seven to ten plot points in the film -- describing each in brief and providing page numbers for reference. He applied the same 1 to 10 scale and left room for comments.

The last section of the questionnaire focused on what he had self identified as problematic within the script. Again, here he lists out the top ten or so script problems that he's noticed and asks for rankings. Here though, 1 equals not a problem and 10 means this is a severe problem. This last section is very important because in his (and my) experience when you admit that there's a problem in the script your readers are less concerned about hurting your feelings and more honest about their reaction to the material.

The other great thing about doing a questionnaire is that you can get scientific about what's working and what's not working. You want your main characters to all be in the 9 to 10 range. You want your plot points in the same range as well -- and if they're not, you know exactly what you need to work on.

I like to use this tool after I've done a few drafts and have started to run out of ideas. By pooling a large sample (7 to 10 readers) I've got a better handle on what I need to fix and in the best cases, some possible new solutions via the comments on the questionnaire. If you're stuck for readers, try Facebook. Seriously. I used a similar social networking site last time to recruit readers and thanks to the questionnaire was able to solicit quality feedback.

six easy steps to getting a movie made

I was listening to Terry Gilliam on a podcast talking about how he got to direct his first film. He said he simply went to London, became part of a hugely successful comedy troupe and then was given the opportunity to direct a film. He suggested other would-be filmmakers follow the same path. Of course every filmmaker has a different path, as is his point, but I've been thinking lately about the sequence of events that allowed me to get a script into production and ultimately into theaters as it's been a while, ahem, since I've repeated that feat. So, my thoughts, as a reminder to myself:

1. You must LOVE the story you are attempting to tell. Anything less than total devotion will not do. The main reason for this is you're going to be in it for the long haul. How long? Maybe ten years. Ten years!? That's how long it took Snakes On A Plane to go from script to screen. Shakespeare In Love was another 10 year project. The point is, it takes forever to get a movie made and if you don't love what you're writing you won't have the desire to stick with it for the long haul. How do you get through the Aswan Dam of screenwriting projects? Love.
2. Okay, so you love your story. What's the next step? Take chances. Put on your roller skates, put a pair of scissors in your mouth and head out onto the icy front steps and go for it. You absolutely cannot get your movie made if you're cautious with the story. This means not writing characters who get along all nicey nice with each other, but it also means doing crazy things and being stylistically edgy or fresh in some way. What's Juno if Diablo Cody didn't throw around a "homeskillet" and an "honest to blog" here and there? She took chances- and while her choices may not work for everyone they worked for her. Welcome failure into the room. Try a dozen takes on a scene or a character. Flip it. Turn it on it's ear. A scene isn't working? Try the opposite. As they said at IBM in the sixties, "The best way to increase your success rate is to increase your failure rate." Apply "crazy" liberally to your script. Put your unspoken obsessions and freakish inner thoughts into it. Admit your fears--just plain and simple go OFF on it. You doing the thing that you're not supposed to do is the thing that makes the script special and hopefully attracts a STAR who cannot say no to it.
   
3. REWRITE THE SHIT OUT OF IT. I can't stress this enough. I know plenty of writers who write three drafts and then they're all like, "I'm done - they should see my genius and give me the moneez now pleez." It (the script) does not even start to get good until the tenth draft. You don't even have a script you can sell until you've done at least fifteen drafts and don't even think of shooting it before you hit twenty drafts. Something one of my screenwriting instructors, Mike Ellis, once said has stuck with me over the ten years since graduating, "there is always someone out there willing to work harder." I was not going to let my project die because I got all lame and said, "meh- good enough." You must love it--because if it does get optioned you are going to be living in the world you created for years.
   
4. While you're rewriting the shit out of it, tell people about it. No, talk to people about it. Anyone. Your mom, your friends, the semi-coherent hobo that lives behind your dumpster. The more you talk about what you're working on the more you're forced to put into simple language the concepts of your story. The themes have to be reduced down to a couple of lines so that the people you're talking do don't glaze over and/or suddenly get involved in an urgent text-message situation. Talking about it reveals to you the strengths and the weaknesses of your script. Plus, added bonus points, every now and then the semi-coherent hobo has the story solution you've been looking for. The sure sign of an amateur is that they don't talk about their idea because they're afraid everyone is going to rip them off. Guess what, they're not. Why? Because getting a movie made is frickin' hard and it's not like your dentist can walk onto the Fox lot and say "idea for a movie: I want my boyfriend back" and suddenly be presented with the moneez.
5. Network and socialize. I used to think this was not necessary and now I know it is absolutely essential. You have to get out there and meet the right people. How!? How you ask? You in Two Egg, Florida - you know somebody. You do. Everyone knows somebody who knows somebody. Sure it helps if you're in NY or LA but we're all on Facebook so, you know... get to it. True story: the current assignment I'm working on happened because of Facebook. Not my agent, not my lawyer. Facebook. The networking and socializing is also key because YOU have to make it happen. "It" being the movie. You've got to put it together one painful piece at a time. You've got to find the right producer, a collaborative director, talent who understand and support the project. You, you the writer have to do this. You have to stay engaged at every step because it will not happen on it's own. All of this requires that you get out there and meet people--the right people. And P.S., if you get the wrong producer or the wrong director or God forbid the wrong talent they will be a dead weight that you will have to carry or eject from the project. So fold up your snuggie, clean that chili stain off your jeans and go forth and join humanity my carpel-tunnel suffering friends.
   
6. Get really lucky. A big part of any film getting made, particularly for a first time filmmaker is that somewhere in the process enough gate keepers forget to say "no." If you have the right producer they will know that "no" doesn't mean "no" until there's a lawsuit or a restraining order. Hopefully you have a producer who is a relentless cheerleader. I've worked with a couple of these but one of the best is Sandy Stern. United Artists must have said "no" to him a dozen times. They eventually said yes. Why? Well some people at UA who had certain problems with certain chemicals went away to certain places and were replaced by other people and then suddenly things started going from red to green. We got lucky. Which is great, but having Sandy there, watching and waiting, he knew that they could only say no for so long. Eventually something had to give.

There is one bonus step that I always forget. Tonight I was reminded, hence this entry: maintain a positive attitude. None of the above is possible if you don't keep that snark in check. Here's the deal, people like to work with people they like. You can't get the talented producer, director, actor if you're dickish or lame. You have to be that person that people want to hang out with. Also, maintaining an almost tragic faith in yourself and the certainty of the project is the only way to sustain you through the years (it will be years) of development. How can you face the Final Draft splash screen one more time if you don't have a positive attitude about your talent and the inevitable perfection of your screenplay? If you're all Debbie Downer it will not happen. Here's my secret; the coffee at LA Mill and Intelligentsia costs an absurd $5 a cup and it's worth it. Why? Because they have perfected coffee. I kid you not. Every time I have coffee from one of these two places it restores my faith in humanity. Somehow they managed to get Silverlake hipsters to brew the perfect cup of coffee. If you don't live in LA, find the place nearest you that has perfected something and visit it often. It's probably food related though it could be a garden, a work of art or something similarly gay. So whenever I'm feeling particularly "fail" or the especially terrible "lard-fail" I go get coffee and remember, with this latte anything is possible.

writing to music

I was thinking about Don's "No music with lyrics" rule. I find that music helps me a great deal. Generally I have just sort of a background stream of click-hop music playing. I've always been a fan of electronica and IDM in general - click hop sets a pace for me and is usually "background" enough that it doesn't take me out of the work.
This is what I'm talking about if you're unfamiliar with click hop. It sounds like tennis shoes in a dryer to some but I like it.

"rRan" by Pronto. Video by Michael Lascarides from Pronto on Vimeo.

But sometimes you need something that sets the mood. To this end I highly recommend soundtrack albums - the more emotional the movie or similarly tonal the better. I really liked the "Me And You And Everyone We Know" soundtrack because it's the sound I like and it has emotionally charged songs on it.
Every now and then I'll break the no lyrics rule and put on a specific song because the words have relevant meaning or the mood is just right. Usually though I put that on and take it off as soon as it's over. It's too hard to write dialogue when someone's talking to you.

don roos kitchen timer

I've been meaning to post this for a while now. It's a simple methodology that Don Roos came up with that helps him write. Timed appointment writing. I'm going to use it this week and see how it works for me. Here's the methodology he was kind enough to forward after a visit to my comedy workshop this year:

"KITCHEN TIMER"

The principle of Kitchen Timer is that every writer deserves a definite and do-able way of being and feeling successful every day.

To do this, we learn to judge ourselves on behavior rather than content. (We leave content to our unconscious; experience will teach us to trust that.) We set up a goal for ourselves as writers which is easy, measurable, free of anxiety, and fail-proof, because everyone can sit, and an hour will always pass.

Here's how it works:

• Buy a kitchen timer, one that goes to 60 minutes.
• We decide on Monday how many hours of writing we will do Tuesday. When in doubt or under pressure or self-attack, we choose fewer hours rather than more. A good, strong beginning is one hour a day.
• The Kitchen Timer Hour:
• No phones. No listening to the machine to see who it is. We turn ringers off if possible. It is our life; we are entitled to one hour without interruption, particularly from loved ones. We ask for their support. "I was on an hour" is something they learn to understand. But they will not respect it unless we do first.
• No music with words, unless it's a language we don't understand.
• No internet, absolutely.
• No reading.
• No "desk re-design/landscaping", no pencil-sharpening.
• Immediately upon beginning the hour, we open two documents: our journal, and the project we are working on. If we don't have a project we're actively working on, we just open our journal.
• An hour consists of TIME SPENT keeping our writing appointment. We don't have to write at all, if we are happy to stare at the screen. Nor do we have to write a single word on our current project; we may spend the entire hour writing in our journal. Anything we write in our journal is fine; ideas for future projects, complaints about loved ones, even "I hate writing" typed four hundred times.
• When we wish or if we wish, we pop over to the current project document and write for as long as we like. When we get tired or want a break, we pop back to the journal.
• The point is, when disgust or fatigue with the current project arises, we don't take a break by getting up from our desk. We take a break by returning to the comforting arms of our journal, until that in turn bores us. Then we are ready to write on our project again, and so on. We use our boredom in this way.
• IT IS ALWAYS OKAY TO WRITE EXCLUSIVELY IN OUR JOURNAL. In practice it will rarely occur that we spend the full hour in our journal, but it's fine, good, and right that we do when we feel like it. It is just as good a writing day as one spent entirely in our current project.
• It is infinitely better to write fewer hours every day, than many hours one day and none the next. If we have a crowded weekend, we choose a half-hour as our time, put in that time, and go on with our day. We are always trying to minimize our resistance, and beginning an hour on Monday after two days off is a challenge.
• When the hour is up, we stop, even if we're in the middle of a sentence. If we have scheduled another hour, we give ourselves a break before beginning again -- to read, eat, go on errands. We are not trying to create a cocoon we must stay in between hours; the "I'm sorry I can't see anyone or leave my house, I'm on a deadline" method. Rather, inside the hour is the inviolate time.
• If we fail to make our hours for the day, we have probably scheduled too many. Four hours a day is an enormous amount of time spent in this manner, for example. If on Wednesday we planned to write three hours and didn't make it, we subtract the time we didn't write from our schedule for the next day. If we fail to make a one-hour commitment, we make a one-hour or a half-hour appointment for the next day. WE REALIZE WE CANNOT MAKE UP HOURS, and that continuing to fail to meet our commitment will result in the extinguishing of our voice.
• When we have fulfilled our commitment, we make sure we credit ourselves for doing so. We have satisfied our obligation to ourselves, and the rest of the day is ours to do with as we wish.
• A word about content: This may seem to be all about form, but the knowledge that we have satisfied our commitment to ourselves, the freedom from anxiety and resistance, and the stilling of that hectoring voice inside of us which used to yell at us that we weren't writing enough -- all this opens us up creatively.

Good luck!

when writers attack

I went to an event at the WGA today that far exceeded my expectations. It was a directing workshop for WGA members featuring Billy Ray, Scott Frank and Gary Ross. It was amazing. I've always been a big fan of these writers and their work as directors has been some of the most visually stunning from scribes who've made the leap into the director's chair. Anyhow, the point of today's workshop (the first of many) is to teach writers how to direct so that we can infiltrate and subvert the DGA. I'm not kidding. I sat in between Winnie Holzman and Howard Rodman - there were plenty of well knowns in attendance. So here, without further comment, my copious notes:

Working with Actors
Scott Frank moderated this section. His credits are numerous but of particular interest to this discussion is The Lookout. It's an incredible little film that is as emotional as it is intimate - Frank achieved this through his close work with the cast. It was one of the earlier films Joseph Gordon Levitt did just before becoming the big name that he is now.

• Make your actors feel safe. Make sure that they know that you are not going to let them look bad. Each actor is different and they all have different insecurities. It's your job to figure this out and give them what they need in order to perform. Directors have been fired from movies because the MOVIE STAR is uncomfortable. Every day you have to go in and find out what they need. Spend time in their dressing room or trailer and talk. Not all will need this but some will. As a director, be prepared to be "married" to your actor.
• You have to reassure them "you're going to look great playing this amazing character."
  
• Making an actor feel safe is important because it gives you a safe space to adjust their performance without freaking them out. They may not have the perspective you have, but if they trust you they'll do what you need them to do.
  
• Actors love to discuss the story. If you can talk about your story (and this is why writers turned directors have an advantage) then you are in a good place. The thing is, you've got to know your story inside out. The "why" of every moment, every tiny little thing. If you've done your job as a writer, this will be easy.
• You are not defending your script from the actor's interpretation. This is an intense collaboration and is all about making it better. If you can't see it changed then you do not want to direct.
  
• If an actor says "who am I playing" or in some way suggests they don't understand who this character is you are in big trouble. It means it's not clear in the script (or not clear to them) get clear on this before you move on.
  
• You can't fix it in post. Twenty years in the business, it's never worked. He has a house that he built off fees for writing voice over. "The Problem" must be fixed in the script.
  
• Casting is a great way to practice working with actors. It has the side benefit of showing you the weaknesses in your dialogue. When you're in casting (or working with an actor in general) you are always a great audience. You have to find what was good and give praise for that. I liked how you did...XYZ.
• Steven Soderbergh holds very casual rehearsals. His actors eat, they hang out, watch movies and talk about the script. It's not a hard working rehearsal schedule. He just wants to create esprit de corps.
  
• Here's how you can spot a great performance: it makes you stop what you're doing and listen. You are mesmerized. If this happens in casting, cast this person. If it happens during a shoot, great! That's the take. If it's not happening... make it happen. The words need life.
• Directors will take your call if you want to find out about their experience working with a certain actor.
  
• The more concise or specific you can be giving direction, the better. You don't need a whole conversation about it, just remind them of where they are in the story.
  
• Casting directors and the Studio Executives can help you get the right people for your story, but they can also have an agenda. We need THIS STAR to get financing or to "mean something overseas." This is about money. You have to speak their language and explain to them why the wrong choice will cost them money. Be prepared to walk away from a green light if you are going to have to make the movie with the wrong person.
• Cast your actors and crew perfectly. Everyone there should understand the story and bring something to it that makes it even better. Find actors and crew who can educate you without being a jerk about it.
  

Directing the Script
Gary Ross was supposed to be talking about "developing" the script but since we were all WGA members he figured we'd all had enough development for a lifetime. True. I wish there were some simple answer to the question "when is a script ready?" The fact is, it's never ready. A script can be great but the reality is, movies happen through sheer force of will. Of course a great script doesn't hurt.

• Be open to input that will solidify your vision. What you want is the better, fresher version of what you were trying to do.
  
• You have to be flexible and collaborative and yet firm in your vision of the movie. It sounds contradictory, and it is. Think of it as harmonizing.
• DO A TABLE READ of your screenplay. Get some actors, some pizza and make it happen. You'll learn a ton.
• Moving from writer to director you have to detach yourself from the script. Directing is not about protecting the script, it's about protecting the baby. Doing what's best for the movie (not the script). Directing is not a defensive game, it is an offensive one.
• The way you decide to shoot the movie affects the story. Instead of preparing a dry shot list, Ross writes an emotional roadmap that contains his shots but in descriptive languate the intention behind those shots. For example, from Seabiscuit, he describes a wide shot of a funeral with a tree anchoring one side of the frame. He wants it wide to give them their privacy and so that the distance lets us fill in with our imagination the devastation of the characters. For more on this DVD special features shows Ross going over his unique "shot list roadmap."
• There's time in development to get your point of view down firm. Direct the movie in private (the roadmap) before you have to direct it in public.
  
• If when shooting you're running out of time and something's gotta give, let it be lighting. Lighting is overrated. Don't be done in by what isn't important.
• Only 10% of a director's job happens between Action and Cut. It's about the other things, casting, editing, prep. Don't overlook these areas. They're hugely important.
• When you direct you're the host of the party, not the guest. You're trying to get your cast and crew to do that extra bit for you that they reserve for good hosts.
  
• You don't have to know everything. You just have to be able to defend your script. So it better be fully cooked.
  

Managing your Film
Billy Ray wrote and directed Shattered Glass and Breach. He has a winning attitude that is frankly refreshing in what is often a cynical business. He described the harrowing events around shooting scene 202 of Shattered Glass - a 16 hour day that comprised a pivotal action sequence. At the end of the day they discovered all three cameras were underexposed. The footage was unusable. He took his cast and crew aside, explained the situation and said this was their opportunity to do it better. They rallied and pulled it off. The scene was better than what had been lost on the underexposed footage.

• You can't whine or complain, you have to lead.
  
• Take the blame for everything that goes wrong (I didn't supervise the cameras close enough - that's why the footage was underexposed) and deflect all the credit for everything that goes right (I have an amazing cast - production designer - etc.) You're going to get credit anyway.
• You do not need to be the big dog.
• That said, do not be self deprecating. You are the leader, you do not have to apologize for having the job. Listen to how the crew talks about other directors. Shake everyone's hand at the end of the day. Pay for coffee. This is simple stuff - all a way of saying "don't be an asshole." It's amazing how many directors don't get this - they think you have to be a screaming maniac - it's bullshit. People value good leadership and work harder for good leaders than they do tyrants.
  
• Seek advice from other directors. It's understood that directors help out other directors. Mentorship is easy to make happen.
• You need to be in the best physical shape of your life. You have to be prepared for something to hit you when you're at your weakest moment. If you're a runner, for example, finish with a sprint so you're in the habit of finishing strong. It's at the end of a shoot that something crazy happens - you have to be physically capable of overcoming it.
  
• Hire people who do not create drama. There's no metal detector for crazy but if you can at all help it, avoid whiners and complainers. They're always a drag.
• Anticipate that you will get calls from the studio. You know what they're about - they're about the problem. Have answers for them.
• Manage the shooting schedule - be on the lookout for potential problems like big shots (moments) back to back or an actor having their big scene on the first day they arrive. Ask the crew questions about the schedule so that all departments can be informed of each other's needs.
• Every night, after shooting, prep for the next day. Don't goof off, prep. Go over everything that night.
• This sounds crazy but on a long day, change your socks at lunch. You'll get it.
• You do not have to go to dailies.
  
• Always ask yourself "How can I make it better?" You've got the script, lighting, camera, sound, music and performance in your toolbox. How can you make it better?
• You know that the editing is going well when you're cutting good moments OUT of the film. This sounds counter-intuitive but what it means is that there's nothing bad left to cut, you're down to cutting good stuff.
• Don't take the Film By credit. If you do Billy Ray will haunt you.

Voila!

simply scripts

I was in the library at AFI yesterday for a faculty meeting. We were discussing the recent ho-ha over the LA Times article and the impression it paints of AFI. The article focused on our criminal lack of air conditioning. Yes it is remarkable what will happen to a federally funded institution when a Republican is in office. Reagan and Bush 1 both cut back the institute's funding then with Clinton it turned around only to be re-cut by Bush 2. Now of course there's no funding for anything because the economy's in the toilet. Anyhow, smack dab in the middle of the meeting the head of the screenwriting department came in and announced that two recent AFI graduates were among the five selected for the Nicholls Fellowship - the most prestigious award given for screenwriting short of winning an Oscar. Imagine what we could accomplish if we had AC!

And on an unrelated note:

Here's a site that has a lot of current feature scripts.