Two Days in the Valley

There is empowerment in hanging out with creative people. The form of creativity doesn't matter -- music, dance, visual arts, acting, writing -- as long as you can share in the creative process, contribute to it. The blocks you faced and found insurmountable when working alone seem to be shaped differently, when viewed through the eyes of another artist.

One of the gifts I received at Christmas was a two-day screenwriting seminar with Blake Snyder, author of one of the best books available on screenwriting, Save the Cat!, and that's how I spent my weekend. Eight of us came in with a seminal idea and left on Sunday with a completed story arc (or several arcs, in my case, since my screenplay involves four intersecting stories)...something I never would have thought possible.

This was the Real Deal. Of the eight, only two had never worked in the entertainment industry. Among us were a television producer, an industry accountant, an executive, a production assistant, a story board artist, an animator, a writer who's been with one of the longest-running shows in television history since its second season, and the director of a Disney animated feature. And me, retired Navy, occasional blogger.

We began by going around the room and pitching our ideas. Blake is an intensely upbeat guy, and he'd greet each new idea with enthusiastic approval or with an enthusiastic question intended to jog things a little and clarify things not just for him but for his student. Every idea was a good one, with both story telling and commercial possibilities. When I described my idea, Blake exclaimed, "Yes! I get it! It's Crash, with love! That's a script you can sell!"

As the weekend progressed, the possibilities before us expanded as everything threw ideas out for the benefit of all, and as we chose from among them, our stories began to take shape. I can't speak for any of the others, but I remain astonished at how rapidly my own story took shape. With each note, each change or tweak, it became apparent (at least to me) that I've tapped into something universal, that my story just might touch an essential Truth.

I see my characters now, and I can hear most of them. I know who they are, where they come from, how they think. I know their blind spots. I know their dysfunctions, both open and secret. I know what will change them forever.

In October, when my brother-in-law and I return to the Screenwriter's Expo, I'll pitch my screenplay to as many people as will listen. I know exactly what I'll say.