Collaborating with Actors

I took a screenwriting course once. It was a 6 week course held by a very talented actor turned screenwriter whose debut spec script landed him the whole package, the dream, the what-we’re-all-waiting for: representation, a buyer, Spielberg playing with his Irish accent… the lot.?

So when my 6 weeks in class were over, naturally, I thought here we go, let’s make this happen. That was ever such a long time ago, though. Of course, lots happened. The second script I ever wrote became a finalist at Nicholl, and a second rounder at Austin. I’m in preproduction for my first indie feature, and talking to producers and directors, pitching, winning contests, the lot.?

The dream hasn’t quite come true yet, but it’s a matter of when, not if at this point.?

The most valuable lesson I ever learned from Barry McEvoy, the genuinely wonderful man who set me on this path, though, was: let actors read the stuff you write down.?

For him, it was natural. He was an actor after all. To him, reading the words out loud, and getting together with other actors to play through the scenes was completely normal: it’s what they did for fun anyway. So it may as well be done with Barry’s words instead of someone else’s.?

And this is where I have learned the most, this is the cause for any success I’ve had, and will ever have.?

We’re screenwriters. We write words that are meant to be spoken out loud. But I find so many of my most esteemed colleagues are afraid to let actors try out their scripts. And that’s a mistake!?

The first thing I did after I finished my very first script was to book a big conference room in a hotel, gather a bunch of actors I had never met before, handed them printouts of the script, and did a table read. I found the actors through friends, through facebook, through whatever connection I could come up with. And I spent the entire time ripping my printed script into absolute pieces. I could hear the cringe. I could hear how badly written it was. It was un-say-able, this stuff. The flowery wonderful language I had concocted was absolute garbage. The characters’ voices were indistinguishable. It was, in short, a shit show.?

The next table read, I came armed with a much tighter script. And one I had read to myself out loud about a million times. It was a lot better.?

The next lesson I learned after that was how wonderful it is to have a different person give a voice to your character. Because chances are, they will completely turn it on its head.?

I participated in a wonderful challenge created by the brilliant Luke Corcoran during one of the more severe lockdowns of 2020, in which writers provided one page long monologues to actors, who would then take a shot at them, without any direction or context whatsoever.?

The results I got from actors for some monologues I had plucked from random features or shorts were overwhelming. Inspiring. Wonderful.?

The actors opened up ideas I never thought I could ever have, gave my characters voices I would have never imagined in a million years.?

In a continuation of that spirit, I am now again working with actors to flesh out a few of my monologues and shorts to see where they take it with little to no direction.?

I am continuing to go through a table read for each first draft of each script I write, because it has proved the best way to hear the mistakes, to hear the language. And the feedback I get from actors is fantastic. They can tell me if my words taste good. And if they taste good, they will feel good.?

If there is one lesson I wish to pass on to others, it’s to collaborate as early in your career as you can. Your script is never just yours. Not when it gets made, anyway. Filmmaking is a team effort and putting yourself out there is what you need to do.?