
Tips/Advice Development The Biz
Let’s Talk About Readers
by Mindi White
Do you think you know who’s reading your script? I’m guessing that you’re wrong.
Story analysts, also known as readers, are the gatekeepers at production companies and agencies. They hold the key to the kingdom known as “being considered by an executive or agent.”
Here is a typical scenario. You’ve written a screenplay, and you feel in your heart of hearts that it is the Next Big Thing. You submit your script, into which you have poured your heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears, to a production company. Not just any production company, but the one that you know will appreciate it, option it for the big bucks, and give it the love and tenderness it deserves.
Or, in an alternative and bold approach, you submit your work to the agency that represents the very star who can fulfill your screenplay’s lead role to its ultimate potential.
Then you sit and wait for the adulation and offers to roll in. What happens?
Your agent calls with sad news. “I’m sorry, but some dork reader passed on your script. I’m going to send it out to…” and then he or she names some other production companies or actors that are not your dreamy dream choice. When a reader “passes on” a script, this does not mean it is passed on to the development executive.
It means you have gotten a big, fat “NO,” and that is that. You get only one shot at that particular company.
This tragic scenario continues until your script is passed on by B-list companies and actors, and then C, and D, and then it is returned to you with coffee stains and a notable absence of your agent.
What happened?
Story analysts, also known as readers, are an entertainment-industry mystery. They are maligned and misunderstood, mostly because they are the absolute gatekeepers that make or break a writer’s entrée into the company for which they read. They are also completely behind the scenes.
Most writers have no idea of what goes through a story analyst’s mind as he or she reads a screenplay, manuscript, book, graphic novel, magazine article, teleplay, treatment, or anything else in print.
Every single writer who submits a piece of work to any company wants to know what the heck is going on in the story analyst’s mind and what to do to ensure a good read. Here’s the lowdown deal: it’s not what you think.
Here are a few hints.
• Story analysts don’t care if a script follows recommended structural paradigms that are generally embraced as industry standards.
• Nitpicky grammatical errors, such as incorrectly using “it’s” instead of “its,” drive many readers buggy and make them think the script is carelessly written.
• There are tiny clues, such as a “ruggedly handsome” hero or antihero on page one, that scream “mediocre script” to story analysts.
• Poorly researched science or foreign language, even if it takes up only one line, indicates carelessness and makes the assessment of the script plummet.
• Using big words to impress the reader can have disastrous consequences.
Here’s a very brief rundown of who and what production company readers actually are, and what they are not.
Who Are We?
“We” meaning we readers. Perhaps you have a few choice nouns and colorful adjectives for who we are. Face it, though. In most ways and to most writers, we are the Mysterious Other. Much maligned and rarely sighted.
For one thing, we are quite the eclectic bunch. I know one reader who is also a professional ballet dancer. Several readers I know are actors. I have a medical degree. (I know! Isn’t that really weird? And the answer to your question is: “It’s a long story.”)
Here’s what we are not. We are not embittered, frustrated hacks who avenge ourselves on better writers. Thinking this would be a comfort to someone whose script is repeatedly dissed, but it simply isn’t the case. Sorry. We do not hole up in a dark room, cackling gleefully as we disembowel your tender-hearted story, your lifeblood, your child. Most (not all) of the readers I know are remarkably well-adjusted and thoughtful. We generally love the medium in which we work. We gush about great work.
We are not idiots. As a rule. Some are. I must confess, I’ve run into a few doozies, and the thought that they are responsible for analyzing scripts – they could get hold of my script! – strikes fear and cold dread into my heart. They are rare, though, and I suggest you avoid assuming that a fathead is responsible for that pass.
Most of us are writers. The competitive edge and an urge to demolish other writers are not in play. I love good writing and acknowledge it when I read it. Other readers do the same. When we find a great or even a good script, we happily reward it with a good rating. We put a lot of work into our analysis so the next draft will be even better.
And yes, that is another part of who we are. A lot of those notes that a script gets on the first submission come from us. We are not just the gatekeepers, folks. We are keen-eyed and perceptive experts, and we give great note.
We are also your cheerleaders. If I read your script and think it’s great or even pretty darn good, I talk about it with the people at the production company. Yes, it’s true. I talk you up and point out the script. Once, I raved about a script that had already been optioned by another production company. The executive with whom I was speaking got the script back, and then he produced it. The resulting film went on to win tons of awards. I’m proud of that. We readers are proud of what we do.
Of course, who we are also includes jaded, overworked, underpaid, and often snotty. But in a lovable way.
What We Do
We do coverage. Period.
What is coverage? Coverage consists of three Things, with perhaps a few Bonus Thingies.
The first Thing is a synopsis. This is a remarkably misunderstood aspect of coverage. The synopsis for production company coverage is as dry as the Sahara. It goes like this: “This happens. This happens. This happens.” That’s it. Readers are often limited to two pages for the entire synopsis, so there are no adjectives to speak of, no frills, no gewgaws.
When I teach story analysis, I describe the synopsis as “Forget the mood lighting. Just walk in the door.”
Many writers assume the synopsis is like a treatment, which transmits the mood and tone of the script along with character nuance and descriptive flourishes to give a sense of the overall work. There are often examples of dialogue in a treatment. The synopsis, on the other hand, conveys the main story beats only. There is no character development outside of what is absolutely essential to the plot. No dialogue. Subplots and tertiary characters are often left out. Mood and tone are absent. Dry as dust.
The second Thing is the log line. This is a one- or two-sentence summation of the plot. Creating a good log line is an art form.
The third Thing is the analysis. This is often just one page of notes. The analysis discusses the script’s premise, story, structure, character, and dialogue, with perhaps some discussion of production values. These notes are about the script, and they also discuss whether this project is right for the production company. A good analysis makes suggestions on what would make the script better.
Bonus Thingies include the little grid. It looks like this:
Excellent Good Fair Poor
Concept |
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Plot |
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Character |
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Dialogue |
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Structure |
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Personally, I harbor a sneaking suspicion that the grid is a way of not reading the notes, but that’s me. Some people love them.
Another Bonus Thingie is the comment summary. This is the analysis wrapped up in a few sentences. When I do a comment summary, I do one sentence each for premise, story/structure (or one for story and one for structure, depending on the company for whom I’m writing), character, and dialogue.
Another bonus Thingie that some agencies ask for is a character breakdown. This is a name and brief description of each character and his or her role in the script. This Bonus Thingie assists talent agents in assessing a screenplay for their actor clients.
There is one other Thing that story analysts sometimes do. We champion scripts we like, with no personal benefit. Absolutely none. We get no credit, no bonus, no nuthin’, and we do not get invited to the company holiday party. We do it because we delight in the art of the written word.
What We Don’t Do
We do not submit your script. Nope. The most frequent question I am asked, when my profession is revealed, is whether I can submit someone’s script to my client production company. The answer is no. If the answer was yes, I’d submit my own scripts.
We do not get your script “to the right person.” Sadly, we do not have that kind of access. The people that do are called “agents.”
As a rule, we do not tell you who “the right person” is. Outside of some broad generalizations – do not give that achingly tender, extremely sentimental, drenchingly romantic drama/tragedy to the production company that produces teen slasher franchises – we leave the submission process to submission experts. Agents.
And while we are on that subject, here is another thing we do not do. We do not get you an agent. Odds are that the reader you are asking about an agent would give a cherished bit of anatomy to get an agent for his or her own scripts.
We do not, repeat not, read your script for free. What’s that? You’re sure I’d enjoy it? That may or may not be the case, but I would not enjoy it if I was reading it for free. This is our business, and we charge for our services. You wouldn’t ask a doctor to treat your nasty cut just because he or she would really enjoy that it’s festering in an exciting and creative way, now would you? Of course not. A doctor is a professional, for cryin’ out loud. Story analysts are professionals, too.
Here is another thing readers don’t do. Let’s say I’m at a party. And yes, readers are human, and we interact with others of our species, often merrily. So I’m at a party, and someone says, “So, what do you do?” I’m a script analyst, I say if I’m at anything other than an industry party. “Really?!?” Uh-oh. I know what’s coming. “Hey, I have a great idea for a script.” This is when my eyes glaze over and my brain goes into a nice protective numb stage. “Wanna hear it?” I do not say yes. I smile politely while furtively glancing around for my significant other to rescue me. Because what we do not do, dear writer, is listen patiently while you describe your story idea to us at parties.
This “Do Not Do” goes double if the story is about something that happened to you and “it would make a great movie.” That goes triple if the story is about a dog.
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Mindi White’s has been a respected analyst for HBO Films, Miramax, DreamWorks, CAA, UTA, and many others. In addition, she is a judge for some top screenplay contests. She produced the short film “The Priests,” which was extremely successful on the national and international festival circuits. She has written five feature films, all in different genres, and is working on a series. She produced and directed a scene from her political thriller. Mindi lives and works in Los Angeles with her two cats, Dewey and Eartha Kitty. |
Contact her at mindi@CauseATiger.com for awesome script analysis services
Her book Getting Past Me: A Writer’s Guide to Production Company Readers
is available at Amazon.com, The Writer’s Store, Barnes and Noble, and Samuel French.
