Write the first character’s dialogue for the scene. Just what the woman from Detroit says. You know what’s supposed to happen in the scene, so just write her half of it. At first, it’s going to sound like you. After a while, when you get into the groove, it’s going to sound more and more like a woman from Detroit. Excellent! Next, write the other half of the scene, the man from Moscow’s dialogue. At first, he’s going to sound a lot like he’s from Detroit. That’s natural. As you progress, though, you’re going to weed out the Detroit-isms, and he’s going to sound like a Russian. Then, print it all and highlight the good stuff... his line, her line, his line, her line, his line, her line... until you have a scene where neither person talks like the other one. Problem solved.
Figure out what subtext is. And then use it. It’s what they mean but don’t say. Great example is in DINER. Daniel Stern is married to Ellen Barkin and they’re having problems. Well, no surprise there. But, anyway... while they’re arguing about her pulling records out of his record collection and not putting them back in the right places... they’re really talking about how their marriage is in trouble... but they don’t SAY that. He talks about her filing Benny Goodman under BeBop or something along those lines, but we know he means she doesn’t understand him. Without their having to ACTUALLY SAY, “Honey, our marriage isn’t what it used to be...”
If your characters say precisely what they mean all the time, you’re toast.
Why wouldn’t you? You get what you pay for. It’s your career. Why would you spend six months writing a screenplay and then send it in, HOPING you knew what you were doing? Imagine you want to be hired on to a bomb squad... and you read a couple of books about defusing bombs. Would you go in and defuse the first live bomb you ran across? You would not. You would ask someone for advice who REALLY knew what they were doing.
Otherwise, the whole thing may blow up in your face and you will have wasted your time. Of course, with a screenplay, you’d only wish you were dead.
If you have friends who are professional screenwriters, they can give you advice. Otherwise, your buddies won’t be much help. Keep the bomb squad metaphor firmly in mind.
Ask around. Find out who’s good. Pay someone to help you. For what you get, it’s really worth the money. The chance that you really know what you’re doing as a beginning writer is too low to risk it. Especially if you’re going to actually produce and direct this beast.
Independent WPDs seem to think that, once you find people willing to invest in your project, your worries are over. Nope, dope. The real fear has just begun... now you have to sweat losing their money. One way to insure they won’t come after you with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch is to never stop fixing your screenplay.
A script is never finished. Never. It costs you nothing but time to keep refining your screenplay. X-MEN had 100 rewrites. It made its money back, which should be your goal too!
How do you know your script is finished? When the camera rolls, or when the producer rips it out of your hands and says you can’t change it any more. John Singer Sargent said, “It takes two people to paint a portrait. One to do the painting, and the other to tell him when to quit.” That’s what producers do.
Of course, woe unto you if you are a Writer/Producer/Director. Who’s going to be able to tell you ANYthing?
Anyone you approach in the business (from whom you want something), has been in the business a long time. Long enough, anyway, to know how to behave in a business situation. You should act like them.
Run your spellcheck. Don’t appear paranoid. Don’t write stupid query letters. Be early for everything. Don’t have a “clever” voice mail message. Write thank you notes. Don’t ask total strangers to read your stuff. Teach yourself about the business side of the business. Leave your ego at the door. Don’t be eclectic, get stellar at one genre. Take continuing education classes. Network. Have simple business cards. Be gently aggressive, but not psycho. Write six days a week. Have new material, often. Be tons of fun to be around. Say “yes” to everything. If you can afford it, never turn down work. Give Starbucks or Borders gift cards to people who help you. Get good at what you’re not good at.
Never, ever stop learning.
For 94 more ways to Make Your Screenplay not suck, check out William's book, Your Screenplay Sucks! 100 Ways To Make It Great.
