Tons of actors say they write. But few of us finish anything we start, let alone share it with anyone other than our roommate. I used to be that actor-writer. The one who acted plenty, but wrote to completion never.
Inspiration’s all around us—Michaela Coel, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Issa Rae, and other actor-writer (producers!) are serving up the most compelling stories onscreen right now. While the COVID-19 pandemic seems impossible, it can make getting quiet and nurturing your artistry very possible. I should know; this April marks four years since I underwent my own forced isolation from actor life, where I turned down auditions and even gigs to teach myself to write. Now I act and write, and I’ve been fortunate to have one career influence and support the other, even through the pandemic.
Many actor colleagues have asked, “How did you do it?” Because there is no one answer, I’ll answer this complicated query over the course of several articles. But the heart of my manifesto is simple—You, ingenious actor-writer, have all the tools you need to find your voice, cultivate a writing discipline, and get your work into the world.
You actually have tools that non-actors don’t have. But if you’re committing to storytelling for the first time like I did, you’ll also need some new tools. Here are a few tips for getting started with your story.
What dramatic questions interest you?
Forget about trying to crack a plot that’s original. Stories are universal. But yours, by virtue of coming from you, will be unique. Instead, spend some long walks asking yourself what about your corner of the world is hilarious? Untenable? Horrific? Awkward? Broken? A question you’re obsessed with can only lead you somewhere worthwhile.
My first script was a procedural television pilot set in San Antonio about two Latina lawyers grappling with the sudden obliteration of the DACA program. My immigrant dad offered the title—“Dreamers.” What to write about grew from years of simmering unconsciously. The decision to write took a month before putting hands to the keyboard. But first, I needed to ask the question.
Who are the characters?
Mockup a character document. This can resemble a casting breakdown but with loads more detail. For actors, this is the fun part. We play characters, after all. Dream up every central character in your story. Devote at least a paragraph to each name. Can you see them when you close your eyes? Get specific. This document isn’t finite; it can shift as your story changes. But I’ve found spending hours, even weeks, ruminating on characters yields an avalanche of plot.
What’s your script about?
What’s the logline of your story?
You know those 1-2 sentence episode descriptions on Netflix that tell you very simply what the story’s about? That’s a logline. You can map yours out before or after your outline (see below), but it’s helpful to set up the world of your script—and in film and TV, execs will ask for it frequently. Here’s my logline for “Dreamers”: Uptight NYC corporate lawyer Ana Cubría is yanked back to her hometown of San Antonio when her BFF, renegade immigration lawyer and DREAMER Sara is detained by ICE— forcing Ana to confront the wild west of civil court and her estranged past.
What’s the engine of the story?
This one’s a little more complex than the former and usually reserved for a television pilot. As the show’s creator, what’s the mission statement and/or underlying question you could nail to the wall and ask within every episode? For “Dreamers,” that engine is: Who has the right to say where you were born is where you belong?
What’s your story’s structure?
Identify the genre of your story.
I love the late Blake Snyder’s book “Save The Cat” for this prompt. Snyder outlines 10 different genres across the canon of story. Pick one. Two if you’re crafty. And learn how they unfold by way of character and plot.
Mockup a story area.
This is a 1-2 page book report of what happens in your script. Keep dialogue to a minimum and instead focus on all the primary and secondary plot points of your story.
Craft an outline or a scene-by-scene breakdown.
“Southpark”’s Trey Parker and Matt Stone told NYU filmmakers years back that when their writers’ room assesses which beat should follow the next, “If the words ‘and then’ belong between those beats, you’re f*cked.” Instead, to generate a more compelling answer to why one scene follows another, try therefore or but to chase the action you’re setting up. For example:
As Sara reaches her Ford Ranchero in the court parking lot, she’s abducted by ICE.
THEREFORE
Sara uses her one phone call to flag down her best friend, corporate lawyer Ana in New York, and begs her to fly to her rescue.
BUT
Ana hyperventilates at the prospect of returning to Texas. Plus she knows jack about immigration law.
These are just some basic building blocks to help you jump-start your script. Use them in any order or depth that speaks to you.
Writing is a multi-faceted, sometimes murky, often lonely, and always terrifying journey. But hey, it should be—you’re bringing a brave new story into the world. That takes guts. Which actors have in spades.
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The views expressed in this article are solely that of the individual(s) providing them,
and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Backstage or its staff.
A Beginner’s Guide To Writing a Script