How I Write A Spec Screenplay

I’ve been working on a new script, a big, fun action/comedy. Today, I finally sent it off to a few friends to see what they think. Scary time, I tell ya. But the whole process of writing a script can be scary. I’ve been doing it for a while and I’ve sorta drifted into a process that seems to work for me.

So this is how I write a spec screenplay.

I begin with a concept. It’s usually one I’ve been testing on people, to see which ideas of mine “stick”. If I tell them what it’s about and they get all excited and say, “Oooo, and then what could happen is…” then I know I’m onto something. Once I start to hone in on a concept, the first thing I do is avoid working on it. I usually site some bullshit excuse about how the pressure of having to execute a good idea is just too much sometimes. As if writing a bad idea would be any easier.

Then, my manager Christopher calls me and creates some sort of unrealistic deadline. I get really pissed off and complain about how it’s impossible to make that deadline. He says, “It’s not impossible.” I say, “Let’s see you do it!” Then I hang up, look at my calendar, and start to figure out how many pages a week it’ll take me. Realize it’s impossible, even though I know full well it’s not. So I get started.

I don’t usually outline or write treatments. Sometimes I’ll write out a beat sheet that basically plots out the movie, focusing on key structural points. I use Blake Snyder’s 15-point beat sheet from his excellent book Save The Cat, but in reality, I only figure out about eight or nine of the beats before I begin. What can I say, I’m a rebel.

My workday goes like this. I wake up and try to do some sort of exercise. Then I go have breakfast at my fave diner Harry’s in Burbank, usually with my great friend and fellow scribe Josh Flaum. We talk about stuff we’re working on and consume record amounts of bacon and coffee. If either of us is stumped on something, we try and brainstorm an answer. These are very good breakfasts.

Then I go home, take a shower, and very quickly waste about two hours checking my email and goofing off on Facebook. Eventually, I’m pretty angry with myself for wasting a chunk of my day and decide to get to work. I crank up iTunes, usually Radiohead or Sigur Ros, and get to it.

I write for four or five hours and that’s usually the point I start to burn out. At night, I talk to my lovely ladyfriend (who’s on East Coast time) and watch some DVR. Repeat the next day. Mondays I play kickball, Tuesdays and Thursdays are kenpo. There’s always a show to go see or a birthday party to attend. The deeper I get into a project, the more I start blowing off social engagements. Something about that (artificial) deadline looming really does something to me. Once I decide I’m going to make it, I make it.

Based on my manager’s deadline, I had a month to write a first draft of my latest script. I turned it in a day early. I thought it was crap. My managers disagreed. They liked it but had notes, which is a simple way of saying they had suggestions of how to make it better. Every single human in Los Angeles county feels that they have the ability to give notes on a script, but it’s not an easy thing to do well. Luckily, my managers are very good at it. Still, notes are not always easy to hear but that’s part of it, like it or not.

Then, I incorporate these notes into a second draft. That takes about two weeks. I actually really like this stage of it, much more than I used to. I think it’s because I write scripts that are too long and it’s a great challenge to incorporate new ideas from the notes while also trimming out unneeded BS. It’s like a puzzle, and every time I do this, I think I get a little bit better at solving it.

So I turn in this draft, get more notes from my managers, but this time, there’re less of them. My third draft is about incorporating those last notes, tweaking a few things, trying to get it even tighter. Takes about a week.

And usually this third draft is the one I start showing to some friends and my agents. This is what everyone sees as a “first draft”. There may be some more work done, depending on people’s feedback. The script that eventually gets sent out to production companies and studios will still be considered a “first draft”. All these versions, whether it’s three or three hundred, are just part of the process and no one cares about them. It’s that final draft that we send out to the town that really matters. That’s the one people will pass judgment upon. They may buy it. Or not. Package it or not. Maybe they’ll make fun of it and tell everyone they know that DeRosa’s lost his mind. Or then again, they may just cry real tears and tell their friends at parties that they read it first and when someone else claims to have read it first, they will then argue the point.

There’s really no way to tell what anyone’s gonna think. And it really doesn’t matter, at least at this stage. Right now, it’s just about finishing the damn thing. It’s hard enough just to do that, to fight the doubt and the fear and everything else that keeps us from living up to our truest potential. It’s a struggle every damn day to not just crawl into the couch and watch movies forever. But on a semi-regular basis, I somehow find a way to face that struggle head on…and succeed.

And that’s how I write a spec script.