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When I showed up at our last meeting empty handed, another actor guffawed in surprise. “And you’re a writer!” he teased. “I know!” I laughed in response, smacking myself comically on my forehead. Though inside, I was lashing myself on the back with a whip in total despair.
Short films are worthy artistic endeavors for so many reasons. They can be self-produced star vehicles. Opportunities for experimentation and education before embarking on a feature-length project. Exercises in different methods of storytelling. Basically, a great way to practice, practice, practice.
And yet I can’t get myself to think in short film mode and work on these scripts. None of my ideas can be wrapped up in 5-10 pages, and those that can feel flat and uneventful.
Perhaps it’s because mastering the art of writing short film feels like the exact opposite of the skills I’m trying to master as a television writer. I’m attempting to create a series with long-running arcs, character conflicts that can go back and forth for multiple seasons, and a world rich with an endless amount of stories to tell. A short film, by contrast, is a beginning, middle, and end, lickity-split. How exactly do I do that?
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I have a friend who has ideas for short films all the time. He calls and tells me about his latest idea, and the next time I see him? Boom – he’s written it! Then I read it. Boom – it’s gold! 10 pages of genius and it’s only his first draft. Color me defeated.
How’s this for a short film idea? Self-flagellating writer can’t think of anything to write a short film about. She frets about it for a month with no tangible result. In the end, she blogs about it and vows to work on it tomorrow.
The end. For now.