A curious hiccup occurred not too long ago. It was an unprecedented event that had never reared its skull throughout my entire creative journey. I found that I had fallen out of love with writing.
This misfortune wasn't a case of writer's block. I am endlessly grateful that I've never experienced this condition in all my years of composing literature. But something else had happened, something... was missing. I still knew which words to use, and I sat them down in a satisfying order, yet the invisible fire running between them had fizzled to smog. There's an energy that lives behind the writing. You cannot fake that, and without it, the content sags tiredly. This overwhelming emotion of uselessness aggravated my depression, and in a crisis of desperation, I tore my bookshelf apart, seeking inspiration. I soon found this book in my hands. I remember purchasing it too. As a professional scriptwriter, I figured it might tighten the finer details of formatting, but now it was to serve a much more profound purpose. I yanked it open and prayed to kick-start the juices that once were.
As the subtitle promises, this book provides 100 ways to make your script great. I'm always suspicious of such well-rounded numbers as they usually indicate stretched advice or removed concepts. However, the point-by-point structure did make for a delightfully digestible trail, and each detail justified its inclusion surprisingly competently. It's always a joy to read books about writing. For if they're not well written, then who does this author think they are? William M. Akers, that's who, boasting a decent list of credentials and the affirmative voice required to assist you through this laborious process. Plus he's quite funny! Except it's more like he's humouring himself, ensuring he's entertained, the reader merely lucky to be invited. I respond well to these types of cocky deliveries.
There are careful distinctions between scriptwriting and novel storytelling, but this publication clicked loudly on many a mutual ground. Hey, are you ready to learn everything you ever needed to know about becoming a good writer? Here it is: USE GOOD WORDS AND USE FEWER OF THEM. Hack it down into small spaces and get clever within those boundaries. Any arrogant keyboardist with a smear of talent can shit out a flow, but strong writing is not a fucking joke. It's a discipline. Like everything in the world, there are people out there willing to do anything to reach perfection, so if you want to compete, you gotta curb your ego and you gotta work. Each minute detail needs to be bulletproof. And if you're not writing purely for the passion of writing, then you've already faceplanted upon the starting line. Pack up your shit and leave.
So, yes, I got a lot from this book, but I am shoving my praise aside for one unforgivably glaring gripe I cannot overlook, and that is the fucking spoilers! I get it, examples are essential, but it's such a presumptuous move to ruin film highlights for your demonstrations as if the whole world has viewed every flick you have. It became so unbearable that I resorted to skimming particular paragraphs, picking at the gist then flicking my eyes sideways before reaching the italicised titles. Painful! I deduct much love for this selfish practice. Shame on you, William!
But if we can ignore that piercing fault above (we can't), then we're left with a flawless checklist which I shall be revisiting every time I tackle a sizeable project. I wish I'd read it earlier, to be fair. Shit man, I wish I'd started writing professionally earlier! Where'd I put my time machine? Anyway, whether this guide prompted the realignment or not is debatable but look at my fingers! They're burning! They're smashing the keyboard with fury, chasing my thoughts and spewing them onto the outside before the ideas drop into the ether of my mind, lost forever. Same as it was! My wobble was but a blip! Let us never blip again! Beneficial book, read it.