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MADE-FOR-TV MOVIES

 

Made-for-TV movies have been around since the 1950s. In the 1970s, they exploded in popularity and tackled a variety of what were then considered controversial issues such as teenage alcoholism and domestic abuse. Until recently, networks broadcast TV movies on a regular basis — some even once a week — leading them to be coined as MOWs (Movies of the Week) in the industry. Today, they are more commonly referred to as made-for-TV movies. Currently (and disappointingly) networks are not making as many TV movies as they once did.

Since each movie is self-contained and revolves around a different story and a different set of characters, it is difficult for networks to build a following in the same way they can with a really good series. Additionally, the TV movie audience can be fractured among itself because it incorporates many sub-genres, some of which appeal to some viewers, but not to others. For example, I would take a good family drama that revolves around real-life issues over a fluffy romance movie any day of the week. Others may feel the exact opposite. What this translates to is that typically it’s much harder to get Nielsen numbers on a TV movie than it is with series television.

But if writing TV movies is your passion, don’t worry. While broadcast networks may be producing fewer made-for-TV movies, cable networks like Lifetime and the Hallmark Channel are pumping them out. So what makes a great TV movie?

“A concept that is promotable, castable, and can be structured so that the audience (ratings) grows over the two-hour broadcast. Aside from it being socially important and illuminating, a current issue so compelling that everyone in the country is talking about it around the office water coolers the day after the broadcast. Of course, many writers feel a good movie of the week is one they get paid for.” — Walter Klenhard, writer, Garage Sale Mystery, Bringing Ashley Home

HALLMARK IS THE BENCHMARK

Hallmark likes to boast about the quality of their greeting cards. What they really should brag about is their Hall of Fame made-for-TV movies. The first one aired in 1951, and 81 Emmy Awards later, they are still going strong. The overall quality of a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie (not to be confused with an original Hallmark movie that airs on the Hallmark Channel) is consistently unmatched within the industry. In short, Hallmark has set the bar high for what a TV movie could and should be. In fairness to cable networks like Lifetime, Hallmark only produces a few Hall of Fame movies each year and they sink big money into them, as opposed to the smaller budgets that most TV movies have to operate under.

What makes Hallmark Hall of Fame movies a cut above the rest? The answer is simple. Hallmark movies contain stories that are both original and unusual. They are rarely — if ever — run of the mill, and always told through characters that are courageous and inspiring, steeped in emotional truth. Broken down, the stories are incredibly simple. Here is just a sampling of some of what Hallmark has put on the air:

The Magic of Ordinary Days: During World War II, Livvy Dunn finds herself unmarried and pregnant. Her minister father kicks her out of the house, sends her to rural Colorado, and forces her into an arranged marriage with a farmer. At first the two have little in common. Then, slowly but surely, they fall in love.

To Dance with the White Dog: After 50 years of marriage, Mr. Sam’s heart is broken after the death of his wife Cora. Trapped in failing health and loneliness, he seems to be on a downward spiral, when suddenly one day a white dog dances into his life and turns everything around.

Rose Hill (based on Judy Garwood’s best-selling novel For the Roses): Set in the 1800s, four boys — street orphans — find an abandoned baby girl in New York City and adopt her. The five kids become a family, grow up together, and eventually migrate to Montana where, against the backdrop of the Wild West, this non-traditional family faces a string of challenges that will either pull them together or forever tear them apart.

Should you have any interest in writing made-for-TV movies, I suggest that you study several different Hallmark Hall of Fame movies. You can find new ones on broadcast networks a few times a year — usually around the holidays and then often in February and/or May. You can also easily catch reruns on the Hallmark Channel where they run pretty regularly.

TARGET AUDIENCE FOR TV MOVIES (THINK PINK)

If you are a male, the mere thought of watching movies like the ones I’ve just listed probably makes you want to gag. If you are female, the thought more than likely makes you want to dance. That’s because the target demographic for made-for-TV movies is primarily women. You can argue that cable networks like Spike and TNT may indeed make some rough-and-tough films. However, of all the made-for-TV movies that are produced, those are the exception rather than the rule. If you are still unconvinced, think of it like this: how many men do you see standing around the water cooler, enthusiastically chatting about last night’s made-for-TV movie? The answer is, probably none. If you listen carefully, however, you will hear women aged 18–80 talking about just that. Because I work in television, people sometimes tend to think of me as a walking talking TV Guide. Several times a week, my female friends will undoubtedly ask, “Is there a good movie on Lifetime tonight?” They are secretly hoping I say “yes,” and horribly disappointed if I say “no.” When Lifetime puts out an original, there will be heavy discussion about it the following day.

If you are contemplating writing a made-for-TV movie, you must think pink. Ask yourself, what kind of stories/issues are of interest to women? Can you incorporate a strong female lead character into your story? This is imperative, though thankfully not difficult to do. Let’s say you are doing a story on a serial rapist. You can either make one of the victims the person who won’t rest until the rapist is caught — or you can create a female cop who won’t rest until she puts the sleazebag behind bars and throws away the key.

Should you be at all tempted to write something that is predominantly driven by heavy male action, half-naked women, or guns and violence — you are undoubtedly barking up the wrong tree. Again, you will have only a few outlets at which to shop your script, and your odds of getting a made-for-TV movie made with this kind of material are slim. You have to think of your target audience. These kinds of stories are not what most women want to watch, and thus not the kinds of scripts that most companies in the TV movie arena are looking to buy.

“Know the network or studio you are trying to sell to. Know the kinds of movies they do, what’s been on most recently and what’s done well in the ratings. You have to do your homework. If you try to pitch us an all-male period piece, that’s not what we’re looking to buy.” — Libby Beers, former vice president of original movies, Lifetime Television, executive producer, The Christmas Ornament and Bringing Ashley Home

MOST COMMON TYPES OF TV MOVIE STORIES AND WHY THEY WORK

There are several kinds of stories that lend themselves to the made-for-TV movie market. As with most television, this market also tends to run in cycles. Usually, a certain sub-genre is really hot for a while, but then the market gets over-saturated, and they stop making that particular kind of story for a time, while moving on to the next hot sub-genre.

Here is a sampling of sub-genres that have found repeated success in the made-for-TV movie arena:

True crime: Think Ted Bundy, Scott Peterson, and the BTK serial killer Dennis Rader. The good stories usually have a “monster” pitted against sympathetic, unsuspecting victims.

Novels: Adapting novels into made-for-TV movies is usually a good bet, because novels, if written well, have compelling stories and strong protagonists and antagonists. Perhaps one of the best TV movies I have seen that fits this bill is called The Pact, starring Megan Mullaly, based on Jodi Picoult’s best-selling, critically acclaimed novel of the same name. This is a simple story about Chris and Emily, two teenagers who grow up across the street from each other and eventually fall in love. This goes over well with both sets of parents who have also been best friends for years. But teenage angst causes Chris and Emily to secretly make a suicide pact, and one fateful evening they go down to the local carousel to end their lives. Emily succeeds, but at the last minute, Chris opts to live. He is later charged with Emily’s murder. The story revolves around the two families attempting to come to grips with each other and with what really happened. It is gut-wrenching drama constructed with real and sympathetic characters. Adapting novels for television can produce strong Nielsen numbers as novels come with a built-in audience that has either read the book or heard about it and wants to see the movie.

Disease of the week: A fairly self-explanatory sub-genre. Stories usually focus on women who bravely fight to overcome some form of physical or mental illness. Films like Kate’s Secret and Saving Emily fall into this category.

Fem in jep: This popular sub-genre portrays women victimized by men. Stalkers and abusive husbands fall under this umbrella, as do titles such as A Face to Die For or A Face to Kill For.

Romance: Often made from novels by writers like Danielle Steele. Titles include Mixed Blessings and Star.

Women who have overcome incredible life obstacles: Movies in this category tend to be inspiring. They are usually true and depict women who were dealt terrible hands in life, but managed to beat the odds and triumph. A good example is Homeless to Harvard, the true story of Liz Murray who, due to a mother with mental illness, found herself alone and on the street at 15 years old. Despite her horrible situation, she held onto hope, attended school, and eventually got into Harvard. Another good example is Dawn Anna, starring Debra Winger, who plays a single mother struggling with a brain tumor. Just as she is recovering, one of her children is killed at Columbine.

Men behaving badly: Admittedly one of my favorite sub-genres, which includes movies such as The Babysitter’s Seduction and The Man with Three Wives. The titles say it all. Movies in this sub-genre tend to be fairly mindless and have a way of really hooking women in.

“Christmas movies are evergreen. Every year the film studios and TV networks are going to make a lot of them. This is a great way for a new writer to get a foot in the door and attain that elusive grail: getting produced. The trick is to tailor the project to your intended buyer. A Hallmark Movie will be different from a Lifetime Movie. And a Lifetime Movie will be different from a major motion picture starring Meryl Streep. How do you tell the difference? Immersion. Become a Christmas movie expert. After a marathon of ten Hallmark and ten Lifetime Christmas movies you may want to re-think your career choice, but you will know where your idea is most likely to find a welcome.” — Walter Klenhard, writer, Garage Sale Mystery, Bringing Ashley Home

Perhaps the most important thing to remember when coming up with a story for a made-for-TV movie is not to make it too complicated. TV movies usually air in the 8 p.m. or 9 p.m. slot. Most women are brain-dead by this time — they’ve worked all day either at home or the office or both — and they are looking to relax to something that is smart and stimulating, but at the same time doesn’t require too much concentration or brainpower.

STORIES TO STAY FAR AWAY FROM

Stories that don’t usually work for TV movies are stories that are action driven. Surprisingly, comedies don’t work as well either. Every once in a while, a network will try a lighthearted romantic comedy — but somehow they just don’t hold the same appeal. Stories that have an all-male or mostly male cast are also no-nos. Likewise, you should not try to turn an old TV show into a movie — as in Dynasty: The Reunion . You don’t own the rights to those characters, and therefore, you would most likely be sued.

BREAKING INTO THE TV MOVIE BUSINESS

As a writer, there are generally two ways that you can break into TV movies. Both involve writing a dynamic movie script. The first way is to write the script and submit it to a company that makes TV movies (through an agent, of course) as something you would like them to consider making. The second way is that you write a script that you don’t necessarily think a made-for-TV company will make — perhaps it is a feature script — but it represents a well-structured, well-executed story with compelling characters and raw emotion. This script will serve more as a sample to showcase your talent and demonstrate to executives and producers who you are as a writer. If they like what they see, they may ask you in to pitch — or even better, they may approach you with a movie idea, and if you are interested, they may hire you to write it.

“Write a spec movie that is a project of passion that’s a good example of your writing. Something with emotion, something with drama that escalates and rivets. Something that says, ‘I’m a writer you need to pay attention to.’ That may not be the script we buy, but it will tell us the kind of writing you’re capable of when you pitch other ideas. It’s hard to sell a pitch if you don’t have a really great writing sample.” — Libby Beers, former vice president of original movies, Lifetime Television, executive producer, The Christmas Ornament and Bringing Ashley Home

ADAPTING TRUE STORIES

True stories often make wonderful TV movies. Audiences have heightened appreciation knowing that a story isn’t merely the product of a writer’s imagination, but rather something that actually happened. But true stories can come with added complications. If the person whose story you want to tell is alive, it is imperative that you obtain the rights to that person’s story. This will be key in helping you to avoid a lawsuit. Even then, writing the script can be tricky, as you will most likely be writing about other real people in that person’s life. And even though you have obtained the rights to one person’s story doesn’t mean that other people who end up in your movie won’t file court papers if they think you have made them look bad. This can happen, especially in cases where the story is messy — as in a high-profile murder or divorce — and the parties remain at odds with each other.

If the person you are writing about is deceased, you can breathe a little easier, but not completely. Again, unless you are writing a true-life period piece where everyone is long gone, there may be people who decide to sue. If the story involved any kind of court case, you can protect yourself to a degree by making sure that anything you put in your script is in the court documents. So, for example, if your script is about a man who murdered his wife, you would want to go to the courthouse and pore through all of the transcripts. If you find that a witness testified to seeing the man shoot his wife in the head, you can put that in the script. The man would have a hard time coming back and suing you because the testimony was real — not something you made up.

“There are the legal issues. Make sure that you clearly understand what is real and what you have fictionalized — and be able to document the genesis of every scene.” — Walter Klenhard, writer, Garage Sale Mystery, Bringing Ashley Home

Along those lines, you have to be very careful in terms of sticking to the story as it happened. Often writers think they have a dramatic license to bend the story. While it’s true that sometimes things have to be cut or tweaked for dramatic purpose in order to make the movie work, it’s not okay to add scenes or things that didn’t really happen and present it as the total truth. This is why you will see some disclaimers that read “based on a true story.” But, as a writer, you can’t use that disclaimer as a get-out-of jail-free card to make up things that didn’t actual happen in an effort to improve your story. If you are going to do something that’s true, you must stick as closely to the facts as you possibly can.

“When somebody writes a book, they do a lot of work, even if they’re writing a novel. There’s a lot of research that goes into writing a nonfiction, true-life story that has been bought to make a movie. As a writer you can’t rely on just what’s in the book. You have to take ownership of the project yourself. That means you have to do a lot of research so that you not only understand what the writer is talking about, but that you’re versed enough in that world so you can be making decisions off of what was intended by the original writer — and you have the wherewithal and knowledge to do that.” — Stephen Glantz, writer, The Watsons Go to Birmingham, and numerous other TV movies

PROTAGONIST VS. ANTAGONIST

Like all television, TV movies are formulaic. You’ll notice the relationship between the protagonist and antagonist is kicked up a notch. In TV movies — even more so than feature films and hour-long dramas — the protagonist nearly always wins. So, say a woman is being stalked and terrorized by an old flame throughout the movie, and she just can’t get rid of him. In order to escape, she decides to go to the one place he’ll never find her — her small country cabin in the middle of the woods. Of course, once she’s there, who shows up? But the stalker isn’t the only one to have followed her there. Just as the stalker is going to harm her, in bursts the detective who has been on the case. He whips out his gun. In the TV movie format, there is no way the cop will kill the stalker. This must come from the woman. She is the one who has been terrorized, and the only way we women will feel truly satisfied is if the victim is the one to overcome the bad guy. After investing two hours in her ordeal, we want her to win. It isn’t nearly as satisfying if someone else does the deed for her. Especially if that someone is a man.

BRINGING NOVELS TO THE SCREEN: HOW TO GET THE RIGHTS

If you watch made-for-TV movies, you have probably noticed that many of them are adapted from novels. This is something you should never do unless you have obtained the rights to that novel in writing. If you were to sit down and adapt your favorite novel into a teleplay, a couple of things could — and probably would — happen to you, neither of which would be good. Because you would be taking characters and dialogue that were written by another writer, you would be in violation of copyright laws. Most likely, you would be sued. Also, imagine your embarrassment — and disappointment — if you spent all of the time that it would take to adapt the novel — and you got an executive chomping for it — and then you had to tell that executive that you don’t have the rights. The executive would probably be annoyed (and rightly so), feeling that you had wasted his or her valuable time by submitting a script that isn’t legally yours to sell.

Getting the rights to a novel is not easy, but it’s also not impossible. I wouldn’t advise trying to go after the rights to novels of well-known authors like Stephen King and Danielle Steele, as the rights to their books are usually snapped up before the book goes into print. And even if they were available, the rights would cost so much money, you probably couldn’t afford them. The same is true with books that have been on The New York Times bestseller list. However, you might have a better shot at obtaining rights to books that have been kicking around for several years or those novels that are a bit more obscure.

“It’s an instinctive reaction. It’s an emotional reaction. It’s like meeting someone you like or finding a house you want to buy. There is a sense of rightness. Beyond that it needs to have great plot and characters. Dialogue is less important. But the plot should be like a freight train. It should start up and keep going…toward the end of the movie it should go faster and faster until you arrive at the station. It doesn’t have to be a straight track, but it should pull you along by what will happen next.” — Oscar nominee, Emmy Award winner and Peabody Award winner Rebecca Eaton, executive producer, Downton Abbey, and Masterpiece Theatre and Mystery! on how to know if a book will translate well to the screen

If you find a book that you think might make a good movie, look carefully at the book jacket, both inside and out, and jot down any information that you can find about the publisher and the author.

Your next step is to call the publisher. Ask to be connected to the subsidiary or “sub” rights division. Tell whoever answers the phone in that department that you would like to know who controls the theatrical rights to the particular book you are interested in. The person will look up the information for you. Listen carefully — there are a couple of things that he or she might say that could be of great importance to you. It’s possible that he or she will tell you the name of an agent or the name of a production company. Both of those are bad news.

If an agent is controlling the rights, that means most likely he or she is doing so on behalf of the author, and will probably want to negotiate for as much money as possible. Additionally, an agent is not likely to fork over the rights to an unknown, unproduced writer. The goal of the agent is not just to get his client money, it’s to get the book made into a movie, which would generate even more money and more prestige for the author.

If a production company controls the rights, this too is not great news for you. It means that someone beat you to the punch in thinking the book would make a great movie. It doesn’t mean they’ll be successful. Be sure to ask the publisher when the contract expires. Write that date on your calendar and then try again at that time.

Another possibility — and this is the best scenario — is that the author controls the rights. I find that dealing directly with authors is a lot more productive. As a writer, you both tend to speak the same language. If an author’s novel has been sitting on a shelf for many years without many inquiries, it is possible — depending on how well you sell yourself to the author — that he or she may give you a shot at either a free or very inexpensive option.

You may have to track the author down, which is not always easy. That is why I said to look carefully at the author information on the jacket of the book. For example, the author may live in New York City, but spend summers writing in a cabin in Tinytown, Maine. See if anything gives you a clue — either about the author as a person or where to find the author — such as in small town in Maine in the summer.

Sometimes, you really have to think out of the box and get creative in tracking people down. When I was working for a producer at Columbia Pictures, I once saw a blurb on a book that was coming out in about six months. It was a true story about two Russians who had escaped to the U.S. at the time the Iron Curtain was still firmly in place. The story had lots of action, and mixed with a great love story. I wanted the rights to that book. The problem was — as of that moment — the book had only been published in French, which is a language I don’t happen to speak. The book was in the process of being translated to English, but I knew I couldn’t wait. If this was as good as I thought, I needed to try to get the rights before it was translated and everyone else was in line for it. So I called the French teacher at my old high school and asked her if she would read the French version of the book and then fill me in on the details. She agreed. Once she reported back and told me that the story was everything I hoped it would be, I was more determined than ever to get those rights.

The problem was, the author controlled the theatrical rights and for some odd reason the publisher didn’t have his address or phone number. I kept digging and digging. Somewhere along the way, I found some little blurb that indicated that when the two Russians arrived in the U.S., they had settled in Washington, D.C. Since their name was a Russian one and therefore not common, I figured I would try directory assistance. Bingo. It was that simple. The operator gave me the number. I dialed it, and a man with a heavy Russian accent said, “hello.” I immediately began to gush about his story. A week later, he and his wife were sitting across from me — along with the producer I worked for at Columbia Pictures — talking about the possibility of turning their story into a movie. Sometimes, it is the most obvious, simple little clues that can take you where you want to go. Of course, with the Internet at your fingertips, you can usually find clues and/ or track almost anybody down.

In talking to authors, it’s okay to show how passionate you are about their work. They will appreciate your enthusiasm. You should also explain why you think the book would make a great movie. Be sure to tell them a little bit about yourself. Let them know of any connections you may have that would be instrumental in getting the movie made. If money is an issue, it’s a good idea to tell them that you can’t afford much for the rights, but don’t make that the first thing you say. First get them jazzed about you and your commitment to the project. A little passion can go a long way. If the book has been sitting on a bookshelf without any interest for a number of years, they may just agree to let you give it a try.

When attempting to get rights to a book or novel you are looking to obtain an “option.” An option means that the author (or person who holds the rights to the title) agrees to give you the rights to the work for a set period of time for a certain amount of money that you both agree upon. In some cases, as with more high-profile authors and books, the rights can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. But it doesn’t have to be that expensive. Options can also be free. Usually, they fall somewhere between these two extremes.

Once someone gives you an option to their work, they cannot sell the rights to anyone else until your option expires. This is why having a contract in writing is so important. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that best-selling author John Grisham owns a summer cottage next to your family’s summer cottage in New Hampshire. And somehow, with all of your passion you are able to convince him to give you an option on his new novel. You pay him $1,000 and he signs over the rights for one year. If, the next day, Ben Affleck called Mr. Grisham and offered him $200,000 for the same rights, Mr. Grisham could not accept. He is legally bound to you and so he would have to wait until your option is up, and hope that Mr. Affleck is still interested in another year, should you not be successful in getting the film up and running.

A few words of caution about options. If there is no written agreement, it is too easy and too tempting for the author to back out of the deal should a better offer come along. An option doesn’t have to be a complex contract — it can be written in a page or two. But, because it is so important, it might be a good idea to spend a few bucks and let a lawyer draw up the contract just to be sure you are fully protected. Again, you don’t want to be pitching a novel that you don’t have the rights to, nor do you want to waste all of that precious time and energy hashing out the story and sweating over the script only to find the author has backed out of the deal due to a loophole in the contract.

As far as how long the initial option period should be, I would suggest at least a year. You will need time to write the screenplay — or even to go out and pitch the project. You would be surprised in the TV world how quickly a year goes by.

“People are always looking for material, and if you find a piece of material that’s a really good story, you have a much better shot at getting a job writing a television movie because you’re bringing to the table something more than just your ability to write.” — Stephen Glantz, writer, The Watsons Go to Birmingham, and numerous other TV movies

SHOULD YOU WRITE A MINI-SERIES?

At this point in your career, when you are just starting out as a writer, there are a thousand reasons why you should not attempt to write a mini-series. I will give you a select few.

First, in the grand scheme of things, very few mini-series actually get made. Those that do get the green light tend to be enormously expensive. A mini-series can be two nights, if not three or more. The production is usually slicker, often using special effects, and the cast tends to be comprised of big name stars, all of whom get paid (deservedly) a huge chunk of change. Of the mini-series that make it onto the small screen, most will be on during Sweeps and they will be heavily promoted. Again, this is the network’s way of casting the bait in order to reel in viewers. The idea is that if they can get an audience hooked the first night, they will be back for the second and possibly a third night as well. With all of this money at stake, networks are not about to entrust two or three full nights of television to a first-time writer. These scripts will usually only go to writers with a proven track record.

Another reason not to attempt a mini-series right out of the gate is that you need to crawl before you can walk and you need to walk before you can run. Concentrate on mastering the art of a two-hour script before you take on four or more hours. Failure to do so will almost certainly result in disaster.

DON’T MAKE YOUR TWO-HOUR A FOUR-HOUR

A common mistake that writers who are just starting out in the TV movie field make is that as they begin to write the script, suddenly other ideas pop into their heads. One flash of brilliance leads to another, and before they know it, they are on page 60 and they are only a third of the way through the script. Rather than cutting and making choices, they say, “There’s a lot of material here. Maybe I should just make it a mini-series.” Wrong. This is not how mini-series are conceived. Not to mention, that almost no one in the industry is going to read a spec mini-series. You are much better off writing a really great two-hour, getting it produced (a big deal in itself), and working your way up as a writer to the point where the networks come to you and ask if you’d consider doing a mini-series. But this is quite a way off on the horizon.

STRUCTURING YOUR TV MOVIE

TV movie scripts run on average about 110 pages. Traditionally, a made-for-TV movie followed a seven-act structure. Today, some networks have extended that to an eight-act structure. As with drama and comedy, each act ends with a mini-cliffhanger, raising the stakes and leaving the characters in jeopardy. The biggest Act Break comes at the halfway point, which coincides with the top of the hour, meaning a double commercial break. Though they don’t have to be perfectly matched, each act should be approximately the same length. TV movies are so formulaic in terms of their structure that I don’t need a clock when watching one. I can tell what time it is by what’s going on in the movie. Here is how a typical TV movie script breaks down in terms of acts:

Acts One and Two: This is the setup. Who are the characters and what do they want?

Acts Three through Six: This is the heart and soul of the script. It’s where the central conflict plays out.

Acts Seven and Eight: This is the resolution. How does the story end? Who gets what they want and who doesn’t? Who has grown and changed along the way?

Now that you know how a made-for-TV movie breaks down structurally, I would not advise you to write one that way. Instead, I would strongly suggest that you write your TV movie as a feature film. The reason is, that if you can get a feature film produced, you will join an elite group of writers. Getting a feature produced is hugely prestigious and it will open more doors for you as a writer than getting a TV movie produced. You will also make a lot more money. And while I don’t want to dwell on the cash factor (writing is about art, not about money), the truth is, if given the chance most of us would rather sell a script for a few hundred thousand.

“As for a TV movie, don’t write one. Write a spec feature script, something that could play on the big screen. Think commercially for that first spec script, try to write something that they are always making — Christmas comedy, horror film, romantic comedy — as opposed to Lawrence of Arabia.” — Walter Klenhard, writer, Garage Sale Mystery, Bringing Ashley Home

If you can think of a story that could potentially be a feature film, but — here’s the key — the story also could work as a TV movie, you automatically double your chances of making a sale. You can market the script first as a feature, but if it doesn’t sell, you can then shop it in the television world as a made-for-TV movie. The beauty is you won’t even have to convert the script to TV movie format. Executives and producers in the TV movie world will read feature films scripts. If they decide to buy them, they will work with you to develop the script for television.

STORIES THAT CAN DOUBLE AS FEATURE FILMS AND TV MOVIES

If you plan to write a feature film using television as a secondary market in the event your feature doesn’t sell, then you definitely want to come up with a story that would work in both arenas. Let’s look at a couple of feature films that, had they not been made into features, would have had an excellent shot at being made as made-for-TV movie.

Fatal Attraction : This Oscar-nominated thriller almost seems a more natural fit as a made-for-TV movie. Michael Douglas plays Dan Gallagher, a New York City attorney who seems to have it all — great job, beautiful wife and child, nice home — even a great dog. One weekend, while his wife is out of town, he gives in to temptation and beds Alex Forrest (Glenn Close), who works at a publishing house that his firm represents. What he thought would be an innocent and short-lived fling turns into a nightmare. Alex turns out to be psychotic and begins a game of emotional blackmail as she stalks both Dan and his family, threatening to bring down his world at every turn.

    Had it not been for stars like Michael Douglas and Glenn Close, Fatal Attraction easily could have been a made-for-TV movie. The original spin on the old story is, of course, a woman stalking a man. What’s notable about this is that the seemingly small spin made the movie appeal to men as well as women, as Alex Forrest is every married man’s worst nightmare.

Ordinary People : Based on the novel by Judith Guest and directed by Robert Redford, this powerful character-driven drama won four Oscars including best picture, best director, and best screenplay (based on material from another medium). The story centers on the Jarretts, an upper-middle-class family who have been torn apart by the accidental drowning of one son and the subsequent suicide attempt of another. Had it not been for Redford, this story may have well ended up as a made-for-TV movie. The irony is that while the film starred Donald Sutherland, it also cast TV stars Mary Tyler Moore and Judd Hirsch.

CLASSIC THREE-ACT STRUCTURE

If you plan to first put your script out into the theatrical world, then you need to write it as a feature film script. The main difference between a feature script and a TV movie script is that a TV movie script has the Act Breaks written into the script. You can flip through the pages and see where one act ends and another begins. While features have definitive Act Breaks, they are not written into the script. Yet, industry people will refer to different acts when discussing a script or movie. Just how do they know where one act ends and another begins? It’s called classic three-act structure. While not every movie is structured this way, the majority of them are. Personally, I am a believer in three-act structure, especially when you are just starting out. I think it is easy to understand, it works — and it makes writing 120 pages less daunting.

Classic three-act structure is extremely simple to understand. It breaks down as follows:

Act One (pages 1–30) The setup. Think of it as the beginning. This is where you set the tone and pacing, introduce your characters, their worlds, and their goals.

Act Two (pages 31–90) The conflict. Consider it the middle. This is the heart and soul of your story. It’s where the tension builds and builds and the stakes get higher and higher. One thing after another stands in the way of your protagonists achieving the goals they set for themselves.

Act Three (pages 91–120) The resolution, or the end. This is where your story resolves itself. We find out who wins and who loses. We also get a glimpse of where the characters go from here.

There are a couple of things worth pointing out. Notice that Act Two is double the length of Act One and of Act Three. If there is one place most writers fall off the wagon, it is in Act Two. You need to make sure that you have enough story, conflict, and jeopardy to hold an audience for approximately an hour. Consider it a red flag when your second act is shorter or equal to your first or third act. Also, the page numbers I have given are rough estimates. Some feature scripts — especially comedies — come in at fewer pages, closer to 105. If your feature comes in under 120 pages, that is fine, but it should not come in over 120. I already know what you’re thinking: lots of movies are longer than two hours…look at the stuff Steven Spielberg does, or how about some of those Oliver Stone epics? Let me break this to you as gently as I possibly can: you aren’t Oliver Stone or Steven Spielberg yet. Until you attain that kind of notoriety, you have to at least attempt to play by the rules. Also, if you want your feature to double as a TV movie, it can’t be a gazillion pages. You have to worry about commercial breaks, which take time away from your script.

Classic three-act structure has “turning points” (they can also be called “plot points”). A turning point is an event that spins the action into a different direction. So, your story is going one way, then something happens — an event that changes everything. The result is that the story is now going in another direction. There can be numerous turning points in a script, but in classic three-act structure, there are two places that you absolutely must have them. The first comes at the end of the first act — so anywhere from around pages 25–30. This turning point takes us from Act One into Act Two. The second major turning point occurs at the end of Act Two, right around page 90. You can think of this turning point as the beginning of the end. It takes us out of Act Two and into Act Three where the resolution awaits. Once we are in Act Three, things begin to happen more quickly as the story’s momentum propels us toward the end.

Because turning points are so critical to three-act structure, let’s briefly look at Callie Khouri’s Oscar-winning screenplay, Thelma & Louise, which is perfectly constructed within the confines of three-act structure.

In Act One, we meet Thelma (Geena Davis) and Louise (Susan Sarandon). Though friends, they are like night and day. Louise is a waitress with a quiet “seen-it-all, done-it all” kind of sophistication. While she has a boyfriend, she is clearly in charge of her own life. Thelma, on the other hand, is a housewife, married to a sleaze bucket who cheats on her and controls her every thought and move. Without asking her husband’s permission, Thelma agrees to accompany Louise on a girls’ weekend to a cabin in the mountains. While hubby is at work, Thelma packs everything but the kitchen sink for the trip…including a gun. On the way to the cabin, they pass a roadside dive. Thelma, who never gets out of the house or has any fun, convinces Louise to stop for a drink. Before too long, Thelma is tipsy. Harlan, another sleaze bag, starts to hit on her. When Louise goes to the ladies’ room, Harlan dances with Thelma. The combination of booze and spinning around the dance floor makes Thelma sick. She goes outside to get some air. Harlan follows. He pushes her up against a car and attempts to rape her. Suddenly there is a gun at his head. It’s Louise, telling him to stop. He does. But, before leaving, he makes a vulgar comment about how he should have finished doing what he was doing to Thelma. This sets off something in Louise who shoots Harlan dead.

Louise killing Harlan is turning point number one. It spins the action into a completely different direction. Up until this point, Thelma and Louise were two women going to the mountains for a weekend getaway. Because of the first turning point, they have now become two women on the run for their lives and from the law.

Throughout all of Act Two, Thelma and Louise are on the run, managing to stay a few steps ahead of the law. They make plans to go to Mexico. The easiest way to get there is to drive straight through Texas. But Louise refuses to go anywhere near the Lone Star state. We later learn that she was once raped in Texas, which further explains her utter disdain for Harlan. As Thelma and Louise continue to run, we are introduced to investigator Hal Slocumb (Harvey Keitel), who is tracking them. He is sympathetic to their situation, and tries to get them to surrender. At the end of Act Two, Louise makes a fatal mistake. On the phone Slocum informs Louise that he knows what happened to her in Texas. Louise is momentarily taken aback. She stays on the phone a moment too long, and the cops are able to trace the call. The police now have a handle on exactly where the women are and can move in.

Louise hanging on the phone too long is turning point number two. It spins the action into a different direction. Throughout Act Two, Thelma and Louise had always been able to evade the police. In this fatal flaw, the police are now in a superior position and can move in on the women. This is the beginning of Act Three. It is also the beginning of the end.

When you watch movies, start to become aware of three-act structure. Once you understand it, it’s very easy to see. As I mentioned earlier, it is also a good, clean way for a new writer to attack a feature without getting lost.

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