It can be hugely cathartic to create a world that never was until your screenplay brought it to life, but try to resist the urge to combine novel writing with screenwriting. Blade Runner and Tolkien-esque landscapes described with the minutest of details, down to the exact color the sky turns when the ashes from the smokestacks in the dystopian city interact with the atmosphere or the exact diameter of the jewel-encrusted belt buckle that is part of the accoutrement of a race of good forest witches.
Not really, but genres that involve places which do not actually exist tend to make screenwriters fall into the trap of inventing a sense of place out of whole cloth. Now, a word to science-fiction and fantasy screenwriters: An orderly room, a chaotic room, a room filled with photos of an ex-lover. And, as writers, we have a natural tendency to add details that reflect our characters’ personalities. Once we’re inside, a production design team will likely have a lot to say on the day about the objects and layout of a character’s living or work space. Okay, so what about interiors? It’s not as objectionable to come across a slugline such as: If you’re in the middle of a chase scene, you won’t have time to dwell on clever turns of phrase, but there is no excuse for:Ĭan immediately convey so much more in an instant. But that does not mean your sluglines should not constantly indicate something tangible and real.
Soon, he or she will need to start zipping through the pages, and investing every description with verve and wit can become tiresome. The first few pages provide the best opportunities to get a little flowery.