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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Writing the Photoplay, by J. Berg Esenwein
+and Arthur Leeds
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Writing the Photoplay
+
+
+Author: J. Berg Esenwein and Arthur Leeds
+
+
+
+Release Date: March 3, 2006  [eBook #17903]
+
+Language: en
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WRITING THE PHOTOPLAY***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Linda Cantoni, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)
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+
+
+
+WRITING THE PHOTOPLAY
+
+by
+
+J. BERG ESENWEIN
+Editor of "The Writer's Monthly"
+
+and
+
+ARTHUR LEEDS
+Late Editor of Scripts, Edison Studio
+
+The Writer's Library
+Edited by J. Berg Esenwein
+
+Revised Edition
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Home Correspondence School
+Springfield, Mass.
+Publishers
+Copyright 1913
+Copyright 1919
+The Home Correspondence School
+All Rights Reserved
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: The Lasky Studio of the Famous Players-Lasky
+Corporation, Hollywood, California]
+
+
+
+
+Table of Contents
+
+
+                                                       Page
+
+CHAPTER I--WHAT IS A PHOTOPLAY?                           1
+
+CHAPTER II--WHO CAN WRITE PHOTOPLAYS?                     5
+
+CHAPTER III--PHOTOPLAY TERMS                             17
+
+CHAPTER IV--THE PHOTOPLAY SCRIPT: ITS
+COMPONENT PARTS                                          29
+
+CHAPTER V--A SAMPLE PHOTOPLAY FORM                       34
+
+CHAPTER VI--THE MECHANICAL PREPARATION
+OF THE SCRIPT                                            55
+
+CHAPTER VII--THE TITLE                                   72
+
+CHAPTER VIII--THE SYNOPSIS OF THE PLOT                   87
+
+CHAPTER IX--THE CAST OF CHARACTERS                      111
+
+CHAPTER X--THE SCENARIO OR CONTINUITY                   131
+
+CHAPTER XI--THE SCENE-PLOT AND ITS PURPOSE              204
+
+CHAPTER XII--THE USE AND ABUSE OF LEADERS,
+LETTERS AND OTHER INSERTS                               218
+
+CHAPTER XIII--THE PHOTOPLAY STAGE AND ITS
+PHYSICAL LIMITATIONS                                    245
+
+CHAPTER XIV--HOW TO GATHER IDEAS FOR
+PLOTS                                                   255
+
+CHAPTER XV--WHAT YOU CANNOT WRITE                       267
+
+CHAPTER XVI--WHAT YOU SHOULD NOT
+WRITE                                                   282
+
+CHAPTER XVII--WHAT YOU SHOULD WRITE                     304
+
+CHAPTER XVIII--THE TREATMENT OF COMEDY                  324
+
+CHAPTER XIX--GETTING THE NEW TWIST                      347
+
+CHAPTER XX--COMPLETE FIVE-REEL PHOTOPLAY
+SCRIPT--"EVERYBODY'S GIRL"                              363
+
+CHAPTER XXI--MARKETING THE PHOTOPLAY
+SCRIPT                                                  408
+
+APPENDIX A                                              416
+
+APPENDIX B                                              417
+
+GENERAL INDEX                                           418
+
+
+
+
+List of Illustrations
+
+
+The Lasky Studio of the Famous Players-Lasky
+Corporation, Hollywood, California             Frontispiece
+
+                                                       Page
+
+Producing a Big Scene in the Selig Yard
+
+Film-Drying Room in a Film Factory                        8
+
+Essanay Producing Yard; Two Interior Sets
+Being Arranged for a Historical Drama
+
+Players Waiting for their Cues in the Glass-Enclosed
+Selig Studio                                             58
+
+Paint Frame on Which Scenery is Painted
+
+Checking "Extras" Used in Rex Beach's Photodrama,
+"The Brand"                                             108
+
+View of Stage, Lubin Studio, Los Angeles, California
+
+Wardrobe Room in a Photoplay Studio                     158
+
+The Reception of King Robert of Sicily by His
+Brother, the Pope
+
+Same Set, with Players Getting Ready for Action         208
+
+William S. Hart with Part of His Supporting
+Company
+
+Harry Beaumont Directing Fight Scene in "A
+Man and His Money"                                      258
+
+Arrangement of Electric Lights in a Photoplay
+Studio
+
+An Actor's Dressing Room in the Selig Studio            308
+
+Preparing to Take Three Scenes at Once in a
+Daylight Studio                                         358
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHAT IS A PHOTOPLAY?
+
+
+As its title indicates, this book aims to teach the theory and
+practice of photoplay construction. This we shall attempt by first
+pointing out its component parts, and then showing how these parts are
+both constructed and assembled so as to form a strong, well-built,
+attractive and salable manuscript.
+
+
+_The Photoplay Defined and Differentiated_
+
+_A photoplay is a story told largely in pantomime by players, whose
+words are suggested by their actions, assisted by certain descriptive
+words thrown on the screen, and the whole produced by a moving-picture
+machine._
+
+It should be no more necessary to say that not all moving-picture
+productions are photoplays than that not all prose is fiction, yet the
+distinction must be emphasized. A photoplay is to the program of a
+moving-picture theatre just what a short-story is to the contents of a
+popular magazine--it supplies the story-telling or drama element. A
+few years ago the managers of certain theatres used so to arrange
+their programs that for four or five days out of every week the
+pictures they showed would consist entirely of photoplays. On such
+days their programs corresponded exactly to the contents-page of an
+all-fiction magazine--being made up solely to provide entertainment.
+The all-fiction magazine contains no essays, critical papers, or
+special articles, for the instruction of the reader, beyond the
+information and instruction conveyed to him while interestedly
+perusing the stories. Just so, the all-photoplay program in a picture
+theatre, at the time of which we speak, was one made up entirely of
+either "dramatic"[1] or "comedy" subjects. Films classified as
+"scenic," "educational," "vocational," "industrial," "sporting," and
+"topical," were not included in such a program.
+
+[Footnote 1: The photoplay has come to have a language of its own,
+which we must observe even when, as in this case, we lose somewhat in
+finer word-values. In their lists of releases (photoplays released or
+made available for public presentation at a specified date),
+manufacturers usually classify as "comedy" subjects all photoplays
+which are without any serious dramatic moments or situations. Thus, in
+the lists of releases published in the various trade journals, what
+are obviously "comedy-dramas"--some of them, such as certain of the
+Douglas Fairbanks productions, even bordering on farce--are classed as
+"dramatic" subjects, and this, apparently, because they are strongly
+dramatic in certain scenes. Thus, again, genuine farce (as
+distinguished from "slap-stick" comedy), social comedy, burlesque and
+extravaganza are all classed under the head of "comedy," just as
+comedy-drama, tragedy, melodrama, and historical plays are classed as
+"dramatic." These two broad classifications will be used throughout
+this work except where finer distinctions are needed in order to treat
+varieties of subjects. The regular spoken play naturally invites these
+distinctions more than does the photoplay, at least at present. In
+preparing your manuscript, however, you will be taught to follow the
+accepted form among photoplaywrights and, in writing the synopsis,
+after the title, specify the class of subject, as "dramatic
+photoplay," "farce," "comedy-drama," "historical drama," "society
+drama," etc.]
+
+True, a genuine photoplay may contain scenes and incidents which would
+almost seem to justify its being included in one of the foregoing
+classes. One might ask, for instance, why Selig's film, "On the Trail
+of the Germs," produced about five years ago, was classified as
+"educational," while Edison's "The Red Cross Seal" and "The Awakening
+of John Bond" (both of which were produced at the instance of the
+National Association for the Study and Prevention of Tuberculosis, and
+had to do with the fight waged by that society against the disease in
+the cities), were listed as "dramatic" films or photoplays. Anyone who
+saw all three of the films, however, would recognize that the Selig
+picture, while in every respect a subject of great human interest, was
+strictly educational, and employed the thread of a story not as a
+dramatic entertainment, but merely to furnish a connecting link for
+the scenes which illustrated the methods of curing the disease after a
+patient is discovered to be infected. The Edison pictures, on the
+other hand, were real dramas, with well-constructed plots and abundant
+dramatic interest, even while, as the advertising in the trade papers
+announced, the principal object of the pictures was "to disseminate
+information as to what becomes of the money that is received from the
+sale of Red Cross stamps at holiday time." So we see that the
+distinction lies in the amount of plot or story-thread which each
+carries, and that a mere series of connected pictures without a plot
+running through it obviously cannot be called a photoplay any more
+than a series of tableaus on the stage could be accurately called a
+play.
+
+Therefore, learn to think of a photoplay as being a story prepared for
+pantomimic development before the camera; a story told in _action_,
+with inserted descriptive matter where the thought might be obscure
+without its help; a story told in one or more reels, each reel
+containing from twenty-five to fifty scenes.
+
+The spectator at a photoplay entertainment must be able promptly and
+easily to discover who your characters are, what kind of people they
+are, what they plan to do, how they succeed or fail, and, in fact,
+must "get" the whole story entirely from what he sees the actors in
+the picture _do_, with the slight assistance of a few explanatory
+leaders, or sub-titles, and, perhaps, such inserts as a letter, a
+newspaper cutting, a telegram, or some such device, flashed for a
+moment on the screen. The more perfect the photoplay, the less the
+need for all such explanatory material, as is the case in perfect
+pantomime. This, of course, is not to insist upon the utter absence of
+all written and printed material thrown on the screen--a question
+which will be discussed in a later chapter. It is enough now to
+emphasize this important point: Dialogue and description are for the
+fiction writer; the photoplaywright depends upon his ability to
+_think_ and _write_ in action, for the postures, grouping, gestures,
+movements and facial expressions of the characters must be shown in
+action, and not described as in prose fiction.
+
+_Action_ is the most important word in the vocabulary of the
+photoplaywright. To be able to see in fancy his thoughts transformed
+into action is to have gained one goal for which every photoplay
+writer strives.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+WHO CAN WRITE PHOTOPLAYS?
+
+
+In almost everything that has been written up to the present time
+concerning the technique of photoplay writing, considerable stress has
+been laid on the statement that, notwithstanding preceding success in
+their regular field, many authors of popular fiction have either
+failed altogether in the production of acceptable photoplays or have
+had almost as many rejections as, if not more than, the average novice
+in short-story writing. That there is much truth in this cannot be
+denied; but that a trained and inventive fiction writer--particularly
+a writer of plot- or action-stories--after having once learned the
+_mechanics_ of photoplay construction, should fail of success in
+photoplay writing is, obviously, not at all necessary. A discussion of
+this point should help to impress on the student just what sort of
+preparation will be of the greatest assistance to him in the work he
+is taking up.
+
+
+_1. Experience in Fiction Writing Valuable to the Photoplaywright_
+
+Let us consider the case of a man born with a talent and love for
+music. As he grows up, he learns to play upon the violin--learns as
+hundreds have done, by first taking up the most simple exercises and
+constantly working up until he becomes more proficient. As in all
+other occupations, practice eventually brings skill, and he at last
+becomes a master of the violin. He may have been born a genius--it has
+always been in him to become the exceptional performer upon the
+instrument of his choice. Nevertheless, the hard work was necessary,
+as that maker of epigrams saw when he said that genius was an infinite
+capacity for taking pains.
+
+To carry the simple illustration a step further: geniuses are few, so
+it is certain that our artist has become a master of the violin
+because he is a man who, loving his work and putting his whole soul
+into it, daily improved in technique and quality by intelligent labor.
+If he is a concert performer, he feels his art becoming more perfect
+with each new recital. He has learned _how_ to play, and now there
+remains nothing but the necessity for keeping constantly--note the
+expressive phrase--in practice, and improving the quality and style of
+his playing.
+
+Let us suppose, now, that this musical artist is offered an
+exceptionally good salary to appear in vaudeville with another
+musician, who performs equally well upon two or three, or even more,
+very different instruments. He accepts the offer; he and his partner
+"open" in the act; and, after a week or two, in order to "build up"
+the act as well as to become capable of playing another kind of
+instrument, he decides to take up the study of the cornet. The violin
+and cornet are, of course, widely different in construction, and they
+produce very different effects. Besides, the methods of producing
+those effects are totally unlike, since one is drawn from the violin
+with the aid of trained hands and fingers, while the other is produced
+by the skillful operation of the human lips, tongue and lungs, with
+only minor assistance from the fingers. Yet the tones of these two
+instruments may be equally harmonious and pleasing when each is
+skillfully played. So, in the course of time, the violinist becomes
+almost, if not quite, as accomplished a player upon the cornet as he
+is upon the instrument whose study first engrossed him.
+
+And now a question--one which certainly should not admit of much
+difference of opinions in the answering: Of two men, both possessed of
+a natural talent and love for music, which would be likely first to
+learn to play upon the cornet correctly and with pleasing
+expression--the man who had previously learned the technique of violin
+playing, together with the meaning and value of musical terms, or the
+one who, without any knowledge of music or of how to perform, should
+suddenly determine to learn to play a given instrument?
+
+
+_2. Photoplay Writing Requires a Separate Training_
+
+Apply the same reasoning to the question of who should _become_ the
+most successful photoplaywright--the trained and experienced fiction
+writer, or the ordinarily intelligent and imaginative follower of some
+other vocation, who is suddenly struck by the idea that he could, and
+filled with the determination that he will, write a photoplay. We
+accentuate the word _become_ in order to emphasize the fact that even
+the professional writer _must_ learn the _technique_ of photoplay
+construction before he can hope to produce a script that will not only
+be accepted by a film manufacturing company for production, but will
+be produced exactly as he has written it, _without the need of drastic
+revision or rewriting_. This, however, is very rare today.
+
+This last point is important. While, as we have said, it is improbable
+that an experienced fiction writer would fail in the field of
+photoplay writing once he had learned to put the plot together in
+proper form and had mastered a knowledge of the limitations of the
+moving-picture stage, it is also just as unlikely that the most famous
+writer living could legitimately sell a photoplay that was essentially
+faulty in construction and absolutely lacking in screen quality. If
+the idea were a good one and the writer were to submit it to the
+producing company under his own name, the chance is that the company
+would accept it, and, after using his idea to construct the photoplay
+in proper form, produce and even feature it--on account of the big
+name won in the field of fiction writing. If, on the other hand, he
+should submit it under a pen name it is possible that, provided the
+plot, or even the fundamental idea, proved to be exceptionally good,
+he might be offered a moderate sum for the plot or for the idea alone,
+to be worked up and produced as the director thought best. In making
+him the offer, the company would probably explain quite frankly that
+the script was not suitably constructed; that it would require
+rewriting in the studio; but that the idea was worth the amount
+offered. Here, then, is one point upon which the novice may
+congratulate himself: he, as an untrained writer of photoplays, is not
+alone in having to learn the secret of what will suit the screen, for
+until the famous author learns that secret, he, too, is an untrained
+writer--of photoplays, and his "prices" will suffer accordingly.
+
+[Illustration: Producing a Big Scene in the Selig Yard. See Cameras on
+the Right]
+
+[Illustration: Film-Drying Room in a Film Factory. The Films are
+Rolled Around the Racks which are Suspended from the Ceiling and in
+the Hands of the Operators. Moist Warm Air is Introduced through the
+Large Pipes]
+
+Now, however, after both have acquired this knowledge of screen
+requirements, the trained fiction writer and the untrained photoplay
+writer cease to be on common ground. The writer of novels and
+short-stories has the advantage of years of--training, is the best
+word, meaning, in the present instance, both experience and special
+education. He has a tutored imagination; he has the plot-habit; he has
+an eye trained to picture dramatic situations; he sees the
+possibilities for a strong, appealing story in an incident in everyday
+life that to ninety-nine other people would be merely an incident seen
+for a moment and in a moment forgotten; he has at his command a dozen
+different ways of assisting himself to discover plot-germs for his
+stories--he is, in short, a workman knowing exactly what to do with
+the tools already in his possession, and when he acquires new tools he
+can, after some practise, use them with equal proficiency and skill.
+Furthermore, there can be no doubt that, once each has mastered the
+working rules of photoplay construction, the chances for quick and
+continued success are quite evidently in favor of the trained fiction
+writer--notwithstanding the fact that one man in a thousand without
+any previous knowledge of writing may become extremely successful.
+
+
+_3. What Chance Has the Novice?_
+
+Should the foregoing fact discourage the novice who has not had this
+previous literary training? The answer is, emphatically, YES! It
+should, it ought to--_unless_ (and this is the secret of it all),
+unless he has ideas, and is the kind of novice who vows with every
+grain of determination in his make-up that he will soon cease to be a
+mere amateur, and will be recognized as one of the successful ones.
+Remember, every writer was once a beginner.
+
+The reader may think, having read this much, that undue stress is laid
+upon the question of the previously successful writer and the
+ambitious but inexperienced amateur; it is this very insistence on the
+comparison, however, that should cause the earnest and determined
+aspirant to photoplaywright success to analyze more thoroughly the
+difference, and profit by a knowledge of how he may quickly advance
+himself to the position where the previously successful author will
+have little or no advantage over him.
+
+Almost all who have had anything to say upon the subject of writing
+for moving pictures, but especially the writers of the advertising
+copy for most of the correspondence "schools" that offer "fake"
+courses of instruction upon the subject, have declared that there is
+"no experience or literary knowledge necessary" in order to become
+successful in the photoplay-writing field. One concern even
+advertises that the student "can learn this business in from ten to
+thirty days." If by this is meant that the mere correct form of
+putting the work on paper with the aid of the typewriter--the
+mechanical arrangement of synopsis, cast, and scenario or
+continuity--can be picked up in that many days, there is hardly room
+to dispute the claim. That, however, is not quite "learning the
+business." No previous "literary training" _is_ necessary, if by that
+is meant the mastery of English prose writing, or the actual technique
+of short-story construction or novel writing. We shall see, however,
+that the photoplaywright who wishes to succeed in more than one, two,
+or three flash-in-the-pan instances must really submit to a course of
+training, whether self-conducted or under competent instruction, and
+the more he knows of fictional and dramatic art the easier is his new
+work likely to be.
+
+Nevertheless, there is a real sense in which the statement that no
+literary training is required by the student of photoplay writing is
+true. Provided he is gifted with an imaginative mind and the native
+ability to _see_ how an idea or a plot-germ would evolve itself into a
+climacteric and coherent story, and provided he has the dramatic
+sense, he can actually learn the rules of construction and produce
+salable photoplays even if he has by no means the literary ability to
+write a salable short-story. But he _must_ be a person of ideas--no
+book and no instruction can supply that lack.
+
+We have gone so far as deliberately to try to discourage anyone who is
+so foolish and so undeserving as to enter the field of photoplay
+writing without the fullest intention of doing his best to win for
+himself the very highest position in that field to which his talent
+and ability to work can advance him; and we have no apologies to
+offer. Few who have not followed the progress of the moving-picture
+industry realize the enormous changes that have taken place in the
+last four or five years. This is especially true of the branch of the
+business having to do with the preparation of the script. To those who
+have been in constant touch with the work, it seems only yesterday
+that the professional photoplay writer, outside of the producing
+plants, was an unknown factor. At last came the time when the
+manufacturers started to advertise for ideas on which to build their
+plays. "Ten to one-hundred dollars paid for motion picture plays,"
+these advertisements read. They were alluring enough even to the man
+who already had a steady position in another line of work. They told
+him how he could add from "ten to one-hundred dollars" a month to his
+regular income. At least, they _seemed_ to promise that, especially
+when coupled with the assurance that "no previous literary training"
+was required. These advertisements looked attractive, also, to the man
+whose income was not regular. Small wonder that within a few months'
+time scores, hundreds, rushed blindly into a field where even writers
+of established reputation would have failed--and did fail--without
+preliminary technical training. Even those who succeeded in getting
+their efforts accepted by the producers found that the check was more
+likely to be for ten dollars than for any amount in excess of that.
+
+
+_4. Advance in Requirements_
+
+The real change has come within the past ten or twelve months. A sort
+of weeding process has been carried on by the various manufacturers,
+and as a result they recognize certain writers as being capable of
+supplying them, at more or less regular intervals, with the kind of
+scripts they want, quite as certain magazine editors have lists of
+story-writers to whom they look for the bulk of their fiction.
+Gradually this list of trained and capable, and consequently
+successful, writers for the screen is growing larger, for daily some
+new writer is demonstrating that the freshness, brightness, and
+ingenuity of his ideas warrant the editor's putting him on the list of
+those from whom good material may be expected.
+
+
+_5. The Demand for Photoplays_
+
+Is there not, therefore, it may be asked, a probability of the field's
+becoming overcrowded?
+
+Hardly. The best proof of the opportunity that is held out to the
+capable outside writer, new or old, is that the staff-writers, whose
+duty it _should be_ to make adaptations of plays and novels and write
+the scenario, or continuity, for stories bought from free-lance
+writers in synopsis form, are kept pretty busy writing so-called
+"original stories" for certain stars, or stories that may be "done" in
+certain parts of the country at a particular season of the year. If
+enough thoroughly good stories could be purchased on the outside,
+staff writers would never be called upon to write stories to order;
+only what might be called "inspired" stories would be accepted from
+them. Furthermore, if plenty of good, original stories, written
+directly for screen presentation, could be purchased by the editors,
+the practice of making screen adaptations of popular novels and stage
+plays would be cut down by more than half.
+
+"Suppose that the staff writer suddenly gets the 'flash'--the
+inspiration needed to write a Western story with a plot that is
+infinitely bigger and more dramatic than anything that he has done in
+a great many months. Thinking it over, he gradually becomes brimful of
+the theme and its plot-possibilities. He wants to feed the paper into
+his trusty typewriter and start pounding out the scenario before a
+single bit of the suddenly inspired plot can get away from him. But he
+cannot; his company does not make Western stories; nor does it permit
+its staff writers to sell their work to other firms. Even if it did,
+he is far too busy to give the time to the writing of a story not
+intended for the use of his own particular studio.
+
+"So the inspired story has to be laid aside, possibly to be worked
+upon some time in the future, when he has severed his connection with
+that company and, by choice or of necessity, become a free-lance
+writer again. Instead of writing that story he sits down and writes
+another society drama, after cudgeling his brain for some time in an
+effort to think up a plot that is, at least, different enough from
+the one he wrote last week to insure its 'getting by' the scenario
+editor, the director and 'the boss.' And that is just the point:
+Although many of these plots do 'get by' the powers that be (or the
+staff writer would not be holding his job), the photoplay-loving
+public knows only too well that there is a lamentably close
+relationship between 'A Wall Street Romance,' shown at the Novelty
+Theatre last night, and 'Love and Business,' produced by the same
+company and 'featured' at the same theatre three weeks ago. Therefore
+the constant demand in nine out of every ten studios for good material
+from outside writers. Since the writer of photoplay plots must write
+action-stories constantly, and since, as has been said, the staff
+writers are just as apt to run dry of new plots as are any other
+writers, it follows that there must be a market at all times for the
+really original and highly interesting story, no matter by whom
+written. If the big photoplay producing companies are to remain in
+business, if their various stars are to be kept working, and their
+rate of production up to schedule, there must continue to be a fairly
+steady flow of good, new stories into the scenario department."[2]
+
+[Footnote 2: "What Chance Has the 'Outside' Writer?" by Arthur Leeds,
+_Moving Picture Stories_, October 5, 1917.]
+
+No, the field is not overcrowded--with _capable_ writers; nor is it
+likely to be. With incapable amateurs it undoubtedly is. Every walk of
+life has contributed its share to the thousands who are _trying_ to
+write photoplays. Hundreds fail because they are both illiterate and
+totally unfitted for the work. Hundreds more struggle on without a
+sufficient knowledge of dramatic values and plot building, not knowing
+precisely what can and what can not be presented successfully in the
+silent drama. Lacking this knowledge, it is impossible to succeed. But
+the great majority of the ones who fail, and who, otherwise, would
+almost certainly have succeeded sooner or later, owe their failure to
+their inability to hit upon and develop original, ingenious and
+dramatic or truly humorous plots and plot-situations. Many a man of
+brains and of excellent education who in any other calling might
+easily make his mark, finds himself totally unable to win success in
+short-story writing and photoplay writing simply because, not having
+an imaginative or (in the literary sense) creative mind, he neglects
+the thousand-and-one opportunities to stock that unimaginative mind
+with ideas furnished wholesale by the life he sees about him every
+day, or by available books of reference, magazines and daily papers;
+and, last, but far from least in importance, the pictured stories seen
+on the screen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+PHOTOPLAY TERMS
+
+
+Since it is the purpose of this volume to place in your hands every
+tool of the trade and every bit of information that may possibly be of
+assistance in winning the favor of both the manuscript editor and the
+director, we must now give the meaning of the technical terms used in
+photoplay work. After thoroughly familiarizing yourself with these
+expressions and what they mean, you will still have to bear in mind
+the limitations of the photoplay stage (see Chapter XIII). A lack of
+knowledge of the latter is directly responsible for more rejected
+scripts than almost any other one defect. Do not write blindly. Do not
+"take a chance" of getting your material into proper shape. Master the
+little details of the work, and thus give yourself the chance to
+compete on even terms with those who successfully write the pictured
+drama.
+
+It is important to note that each term given is defined in its
+relation to the photoplay, and not according to its usual or
+dictionary meaning. All terms are explained in detail as the book
+progresses. (See _Table of Contents_.)
+
+BUST: A very close view of some object necessary to the understanding
+of the picture; as, a watch, a miniature, a jewel. A bust picture is
+usually taken before some dark background, and does not embody any
+specific action, but merely gives a close view of the important
+object.
+
+CAMERA: The device with which the pictures are taken. The operator of
+the camera is called, in moving-picture work, "the cameraman." He is,
+of course, an expert photographer; and, though "camera" as used here
+means the moving-picture camera, there is always on hand a regular
+plate-camera for ordinary exposures. This is frequently used for
+taking "stills," or photographs of certain striking situations in the
+scenes, from which are made half-tone cuts for the magazines and
+trade-paper illustrations, and used in designing the large and small
+lithographed posters used by the exhibitors.
+
+CAMERAMAN: See _Camera_.
+
+CAST: The characters taking individual, and not merely mass, parts in
+a photoplay.
+
+CAST OF CHARACTERS: The list of characters prepared as a part of the
+photoplay script for the use of the director or producer. It is
+customary to make this cast of characters full enough to outline
+eccentricities and individualities of character, together with brief
+suggestions for costume.
+
+CLOSE UP: The enlarged portion of a scene, introduced at a point in
+the action where it is necessary to show some action or facial
+expression that would perhaps not be understandable at the regular
+range used for the main portion of that scene. It is employed, as is
+the bust, to enlarge figures on the screen. Like the bust, it is also
+designated by its own number in the continuity of scenes of a
+photoplay script.
+
+CONTINUITY: See _Scenario_.
+
+CUT-BACK: A return to a previously shown scene so as to keep the
+thread of the action clear.
+
+CUT-IN, OR CUT-IN LEADER: A sub-title which cuts into or breaks the
+action of a scene instead of appearing before the scene opens. Cut-ins
+are therefore the sub-titles giving the words spoken by one or more of
+the characters in a scene. They constitute the "dialogue" of the
+photoplay.
+
+CUTTING: It happens not infrequently that from 5,500 to 7,000 feet (or
+even more, if the director is inclined to be wasteful) of negative
+film is exposed, or used up, in taking the scenes intended for a
+five-part (5,000-foot) "feature." In every case, a certain amount of
+film in excess of what is actually needed is inevitably exposed in the
+photographing of the complete picture. In the "cutting room" of the
+studio the director "assembles" his picture--pieces together the
+different scenes, sub-titles, and inserts, and "cuts" portions varying
+from a few inches to many feet in length when such portions, if
+retained, would be regarded as "padding," or superfluous footage.
+
+DIAPHRAGM: A term applying to a portion of the camera apparatus, and
+also applied to the process of causing one scene to disappear, or
+another to appear. Like the "fade out" and "fade in," the "diaphragm
+out" and "diaphragm in" are descriptive terms, but having a different
+purpose. While the "fade out" or the "fade in" separate two parts of
+a scene, and bring in between them the thing thought of or spoken of,
+the "diaphragm out" and the "diaphragm in" (both usually placed in the
+script on a separate line) serve the purpose of covering a supposed
+lapse of time in the action, where a leader is not needed. (More fully
+explained in text.)
+
+DIRECTOR: Sometimes called the Producer. The man who plans and directs
+the building and setting of all scenes in the production of the
+picture, as well as casting the actors and actresses for the various
+parts, pointing out, in a general way, what costuming and make-up are
+required, and directing their acting and stage "business" during the
+taking of scenes. "Producer" more properly is the term applied to the
+manufacturer or manufacturing company.
+
+DOING A PICTURE: To "do" a picture is to produce it in film form. To
+say that a picture has been "done" in five reels is simply to state
+that the production has required approximately five thousand feet of
+film.
+
+DOUBLE EXPOSURE: Same as super-imposure. The practice of exposing the
+same negative film twice, used extensively in producing "vision"
+effects, "ghosts," etc., as well as in photographing scenes where one
+of the players is cast in a "double role," as of twin sisters or
+brothers, as is more fully explained in the text.
+
+EDITOR: The person who receives, examines, and passes on your
+photoplay. He decides as to the merits of your story, after which, if
+he accepts it, it is turned over by him to the director.
+
+EPISODE: See _Serial_.
+
+EXTRAS, OR EXTRA PEOPLE: Supernumeraries, either male or female, who
+"dress" or "fill in" certain scenes, or who may even be given small
+parts, or "bits." "Extras" are frequently used as soldiers, cowboys,
+pedestrians, saloon loungers, guests at a ball, or in other similar
+capacities.
+
+FADE IN: When the screen is dark, and a picture comes up gradually
+until it is clear, this is called a fade in.
+
+FADE OUT: When the opposite from the fade in occurs, the scene dying
+away until the screen is blank, this opposite term is used. These two
+terms are employed in the photoplay manuscript for the purpose of
+indicating that some character is thinking of, or telling another
+about, something that has already happened, or that is prophetically
+expected to happen. The character is seen thinking, or talking, then
+there comes a fade out, and then a fade in, and the scene that comes
+up is what he tells of or is thinking about. This again fades out, and
+the fade in brings back the original scene with the character thinking
+or talking; but each of the three scenes used has its own consecutive
+scene-number in the manuscript. The fade out may also be used to end a
+scene, or be used at the close of the photoplay.
+
+FEATURE: See _Reel_.
+
+FILM: The strip of translucent material, resembling celluloid, upon
+which the scene is recorded; a series of pictures one inch wide and
+three-fourths of an inch in height, taken at the rate of
+approximately sixteen a second, and sixteen pictures to one foot of
+film. These small pictures are technically termed "frames."
+
+FOOTAGE: The amount of film consumed in the making of an individual
+scene, insert, or the entire picture.
+
+FRAME: See _Film_.
+
+IDEA: An incident, or a situation, that suggests a plot; in other
+words, the plot "germ."
+
+INSERT: Anything introduced into the film to aid in telling the story
+or to explain a point of the plot. "Leaders" are also inserts; but, as
+generally used, inserts refers to letters, telegrams, newspaper
+paragraphs or personals, or any matter other than cut-ins, or
+dialogue, inserted into the film during the progress of a scene, thus
+becoming practically a part of that scene.
+
+INTERPOSE: A term used to indicate the process by which a scene merges
+into the next, one dying as the other comes up, so that there is no
+blank screen between them, as in the case of the fade out and fade in.
+As in the dissolving views of a stereopticon, the scenes merge one
+into the other. This device is used for the same purpose as the fade
+out and fade in, but, being more difficult to accomplish, from the
+camera standpoint, is used only rarely.
+
+LEADER: A sub-title used before a scene to assist the spectator in
+getting a clear idea of what the picture is to portray.
+
+LOCATION: When the setting for an action is out of doors, and takes
+advantage of some natural environment, such as the front of a house, a
+barn, or a lane, or a lake, it is called a "location." So, while any
+environment for action is broadly a "setting," one usually refers to
+an interior setting as a "set" and an exterior setting as a
+"location."
+
+MULTIPLE REEL: See _Reel_.
+
+NEGATIVE: The original emulsated film used in the camera when the
+actions of the participants in the photoplay are recorded.
+
+PLOT: The original idea worked into a compact number of scenes and
+individual situations, all of which in a series carry out the general
+idea. Sometimes this "plot" is referred to as the "skeleton" of the
+photoplay. "In its simplest, broadest aspect, plot is the scheme,
+plan, argument or action of the story."[3] Henry Albert Phillips calls
+it "the 'working plan' used by the building author."[4]
+
+[Footnote 3: J. Berg Esenwein, _Writing the Short-Story_.]
+
+[Footnote 4: _The Plot of the Short-Story_. See also our later
+discussion of the nature of Plot.]
+
+POSITIVES: The copies printed from the negative. These positives bear
+the same relation to the negative as "prints" do to a photographic
+plate.
+
+PRINTS: The "copies" or "positives." The profit to the manufacturer
+lies, of course, in selling as many prints as possible to the exchange
+managers of the world.
+
+PRODUCER: See _Director_.
+
+REEL: A full reel of film contains, approximately, one thousand feet.
+Sometimes two pictures of five hundred feet each, or of different
+lengths, may constitute a full reel, and it is then termed a "split
+reel." If a photoplay is produced in two or more reels, it is put on
+the market as a "two-reel" or a "---- -reel" subject and becomes a
+"multiple-reel" subject. The term "feature" is usually applied to a
+picture of five parts and upward. When referring to a multiple-reel
+play, photoplaywrights now favor the use of the word "part" instead of
+"reel" and say "two-part," or "three-part" story or play.
+Incidentally, it is well to use "picture" in place of "film" as much
+as convenient. Earnest workers in the photoplay-writing profession are
+anxious to eliminate the old atmosphere of cheapness.
+
+REGISTER: To register an effect is to "show" it to the spectators in a
+way which cannot be mistaken. It is sometimes said that an effect, a
+bit of "business," or an emotion which an actor is endeavoring to
+portray, "will not register," meaning that it will not be understood
+by the audience in the way intended by the director. Very often a
+lighting effect does not "register" as it was thought it would. Again,
+an actor may wish to "register" disgust or hatred, and yet he may
+convey the idea that he is portraying only fear. The word covers
+various meanings. In writing your story in action (in the scenario or
+continuity), if a character is hiding behind a curtain, watching an
+exhibition of cowardice in another character, instead of saying "Tom
+shows by his actions that he considers Jack an arrant coward,"
+thereby using twelve words, you may write, "Tom registers disgust at
+Jack's cowardice," which uses only six words; but do not use this
+technical term too frequently in this manner.
+
+RELEASE: Each producing company "releases" or places on the market a
+certain number of films every month. Each of these films, therefore,
+is termed "a release." The "release date" is the day upon which copies
+of the film are given out to different exhibitors, to be shown to the
+public for the first time.
+
+SCENARIO: Correctly applied only to that part of the photoplay
+manuscript which describes the development of the plot, scene by scene
+and situation by situation; the complete story is swiftly _outlined_
+in the synopsis, but in the scenario it is told--that is, worked
+out--in action. The continuity of action; often called "the
+continuity."
+
+SCENE: A scene is so much of the action of a photoplay as is taken in
+one place at one time without stopping the camera. The instant that
+there is need to stop the camera, to change grouping, break the
+progress of the action, introduce or take away characters, or change
+costumes, that scene is terminated, and with the new start a new scene
+is begun.
+
+SCENE-PLOT: That part of the photoplay script which lists the scenes
+and shows the producer at a glance exactly what different sets are
+required to stage the picture, and how many different scenes may be
+done in each separate set.
+
+SCRIPT: The typewritten copy of the completed photoplay. A complete
+script is composed of three parts: Synopsis, Cast of Characters, and
+Scenario, or Continuity--and sometimes a fourth part, called the
+Scene-Plot.
+
+SERIAL: A photoplay serial, as the name implies, is a film totaling,
+say, 30,000 feet in length, and divided into fifteen "episodes," each
+episode being made up of two reels, or parts--2,000 feet of film. The
+production covers one long, continued story, each episode planned to
+end with a thrilling climax, with a "To be continued in our next," so
+to speak, tail-piece. The climax comes only at the end of each episode
+(as the two parts released each week, taken in conjunction, are
+termed). Incidentally, it should be borne in mind that, in all
+up-to-date picture theatres, two projecting machines are employed, so
+that no "break" occurs in the showing of any picture. For this reason,
+"feature" subjects do not necessarily have any special climax at the
+end of each reel, and, to repeat, serial photoplays have the grand,
+forward-looking climax only at the end of each episode.
+
+SET: When a room, hotel lobby, or other interior setting is required,
+it is usually built in the studio, or in the open air near by, and is
+called a "set."
+
+SETTING: The setting is the scenic environment of the action. Whether
+indoors or out, the surroundings, properties, furniture, buildings,
+and, in short, all that comes within the view of the camera, is the
+"setting" for that particular scene.
+
+SITUATION: A state of affairs in which certain characters sustain
+such relations to each other that an important change might and almost
+must grow out of the relationship. In other words, a "situation" is a
+state of affairs full of dramatic possibilities. When a single
+character is confronted by the necessity for an important decision,
+whether of morals or of physical action, we also have a "situation."
+
+SPLIT REEL: See _Reel_.
+
+STAGE: The actual photoplay stage is that space within the range of
+the camera in which the action of that given scene will be apparent.
+In an interior setting it may be the space between the camera and the
+walls of the set, to the full extent of the camera-range, in which
+radius a host of people may be used; or, in the case of action where
+intense emotion must be made clearly apparent, the stage may be only a
+space beginning at a point from six to eleven feet from the camera
+lens, and only as wide as the radius of the camera-angle at that
+distance. Actually, the stage is a variable area, within the
+camera-range, in the scope of which the required action will be
+comprehended.
+
+STOCK PEOPLE: The regular members of the stock company employed by the
+manufacturer, who draw a stipulated weekly salary, even though not
+acting in a picture every working day.
+
+STUDIO: That part of the producing plant where the pictures are taken.
+In its broadest sense, "studio" is often used as meaning the entire
+manufacturing plant; but such a plant contains, besides the "studio,"
+the lighting plant, carpenter shop, scene dock, property room,
+developing room, drying room, joining or assembling room, wardrobe
+room, paint bridge and scene-painting department, dressing rooms,
+offices, etc.
+
+SUBJECT: Another term for the play. According to its nature, a picture
+is known as a "comedy subject," "dramatic subject," and so on.
+
+SUB-TITLE: See _Leader_.
+
+SUPER-IMPOSURE: See _Double Exposure_.
+
+TINTING: Such effects as moonlight, artificial light in a room,
+firelight, etc., are gained largely by dyeing, or tinting, the
+positive film in various colors. Tinting is also frequently resorted
+to for no other reason than to enhance the beauty of the scene, as
+when sunset scenes are tinted in one of half a dozen suitable tones,
+or when exteriors are dyed in some shade of brown or green.
+
+TITLE: The name of the story. A very important element, since it is
+really an advertisement to draw attention to the photoplay, as well as
+an announcement telling what it is about. "A good title is apt,
+specific, attractive, new and short."[5]
+
+[Footnote 5: Charles Raymond Barrett, _Short Story Writing_.]
+
+VISION: The showing of a small scene within a larger scene, as in the
+case of a lover seated, thinking of his sweetheart, and a vision of
+the object of his thought appearing in a corner of the scene, and
+disappearing as he smiles. Visions are resorted to usually to indicate
+the thought of a character, and should be used only sparingly, if at
+all.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE PHOTOPLAY SCRIPT: ITS COMPONENT PARTS
+
+
+We know what a photoplay is; now what are the component parts of a
+photoplay script?
+
+Simply because the word "scenario" has been so long used loosely as a
+name for the full written outline or story of the photoplay, it has
+come to mean the entire manuscript--or photoplay script, as we prefer
+to call it--completed and ready to be submitted to the editor.
+Accurately, however (see the preceding chapter, Photoplay Terms), the
+"scenario" is only one of the three or four distinct parts of a
+photoplay script, as will be developed in full presently. "The
+Photoplaywright," a department conducted by Mr. Epes Winthrop Sargent
+in _The Moving Picture World_, was at first called "The Scenario
+Writer;" however, Mr. Sargent, like most writers and editors, has
+abandoned the use of the word "scenario" as applied to the complete
+script. "Scenario" is the name now properly given to the continuity of
+scenes, or "the continuity," as many are calling it in these days of
+more precise nomenclature. Furthermore, various trade publications are
+now urging writers and all others interested in the work to substitute
+the word "photoplay" for "scenario," as being more comprehensive and
+exact when applied to the complete manuscript. In strict accuracy,
+however, even "photoplay" is not a sufficiently explicit term when
+applied to the manuscript only, while either "photoplay manuscript" or
+"photoplay script" is; for, as all writers may learn to their cost,
+the "script" is not always destined to become a "play." To some,
+however, this distinction may seem like splitting a hair nicely
+between its north and northwest corners. At all events, the "photoplay
+script" is an exact and descriptive term and may well be used by all
+interested.
+
+What is of fundamental technical importance in a novel, a short-story,
+or a play? The story itself--the plot. And so also it is in the
+photoplay; only, and the reasons must be obvious, its importance in
+the photoplay is even greater. Without the plot, the writer's script
+will remain forever a script, a mere piece of hand- or typewriting; it
+will never be transformed by the magic wand of the director into a
+film picture. Remember always that the photoplay is nothing but a
+series of scenes _in action_ which make up a story. How can you expect
+to have action without a sufficient cause for every effect shown and
+the scenes arranged in such order as to produce a complete illusion of
+a connected, progressive, climax-reaching story? (And it is just this
+connected, progressive, climax-reaching arrangement of the events of a
+story which we call the "plot.") A novel may be largely a study of
+character; a short-story may deal with action which takes place wholly
+unseen in the soul of man; a play or a musical comedy may be chiefly a
+series of scenic pictures or tuneful caperings; but a true photoplay
+must act out a story--a story with a big central point, supported by
+contributing points, or situations.
+
+The story, then, comes first--in more than one sense. It is the bait
+you hold out to the editor of the photoplay company. If he can be
+interested in your _story_, the script is half sold. This being true,
+it follows that your synopsis must be clear, interesting, and as brief
+as you can possibly make it, while still giving all the important
+points of the story. He must grasp your plot, if not in a nutshell, at
+least in just as few words as it can be compressed into in order to
+make its development perfectly clear. You must therefore outline it,
+so that he may be able to see plainly the possibilities of the story
+as it would work itself out in picture form.
+
+
+_1. The Synopsis_
+
+The story must be briefly put, therefore it is necessarily only an
+outline, a _synopsis_--and that is the accepted technical
+term--forming the first subdivision of your script. Each of these
+subdivisions is merely touched upon here, and reserved for separate
+chapter-treatment later on.
+
+In the synopsis, of course, your various characters are mentioned by
+name, but it is also necessary to add a separate section to your
+script, containing
+
+
+_2. The Cast of Characters_
+
+Almost all motion picture producers are now showing the cast of
+characters on their films, and it is only a matter of time when every
+manufacturer will follow their lead, for this is a natural step toward
+the effect of reality. For this reason, as well as because it has been
+accepted as following the proper form of photoplay script preparation,
+your cast of characters should immediately follow the synopsis, and be
+distinct therefrom.
+
+
+_3. The Scenario or Continuity of Scenes_
+
+Then comes the scenario--the third and last essential part of the
+complete photoplay script. In this your story is not told in words but
+is worked out in action. That is, instead of being told by
+description, dialogue, and all the devices of fiction writing, the
+_story_ is described as a series of actions, divided into the required
+number of interior and exterior scenes, together with the necessary
+inserts in the way of leaders or sub-titles, letters, telegrams,
+newspaper items, advertisements, and the like.
+
+
+_4. The Scene-Plot_
+
+In this preliminary consideration of the several parts of the complete
+script, it must be remembered that the various producing companies
+differ as to what they expect a manuscript to contain. One thing,
+however, is certain: it is far better to include more detail than is
+required, than too little. Therefore, on the whole, it is advisable to
+send a scene-plot (discussed fully in Chapter XI), as this part of the
+script will show the producer at a glance exactly what different sets
+are required to stage the picture, and how many scenes are "done" in
+each set. It is simply a little help extended to a busy man; for in
+particular it enables the editor to understand on first looking over
+your script how the scenes follow up and fit in with the action as
+described in the synopsis. At the same time, it is really a supplement
+to the manuscript, and our experience has been that it is more
+appreciated if written upon a separate sheet, and included with the
+manuscript proper. Naturally, the scene-plot is not to be included in
+scripts sent to companies that ask for "synopsis only."
+
+Strictly speaking, as one writer on the subject has pointed out, the
+photoplay manuscript consists of two _essential_ parts--the synopsis
+and the scenario.[6] Manufacturers, however, have shown their approval
+of having the list of characters, giving the names of characters and a
+word or two describing their relations to each other, etc., much as is
+done in some theatre programs. Let us, then, look upon the complete
+photoplay script as being composed of
+
+  I The Synopsis.
+ II The Cast of Characters.
+III The Scenario, or Continuity of Scenes.
+ IV The Scene-plot (as a supplement).
+
+[Footnote 6: A discussion of the present-day requirement of "synopsis
+only," as announced by some companies, will be found in Chapter
+VIII.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A SAMPLE PHOTOPLAY FORM
+
+
+While the one-reel photoplay is virtually obsolete today, having given
+place to plays of two or more reels, the form for the complete script
+is quite the same for the multiple-reel as for the single-reel
+photoplay, hence the following specimen will serve just as well to
+show how the several parts of the full photoplay manuscript are set
+forth as if two or even five reels were given. The same thing applies
+to the number of scenes commonly found in any one reel--nowadays more
+scenes per reel are customary than was the case when the specimen here
+given was written, yet the old form for each scene and for each insert
+is as correct today as ever, so that the present model is a
+trustworthy one for those who would prepare the complete script,
+continuity and all, and not "synopsis only."
+
+
+WITHOUT REWARD[7]
+
+BY ARTHUR LEEDS
+
+Western drama in 32 scenes; 4 interior and 13 exterior settings
+
+[Footnote 7: This story was originally entitled "The Love That Leads
+Upward." After being accepted by the Universal, for production by the
+Nestor Company, the title was changed to meet with some necessary
+changes in the scenario. The scene-plot for this story is reproduced
+in Chapter XI.]
+
+
+SYNOPSIS
+
+A reward is offered for the capture of Stephen Hammond, better known
+to the people of Navajo County, Arizona, as "Aravaipa Steve."
+
+James Freeman, a rancher, brings Dr. Turner to the ranch to attend the
+younger of his two daughters, Norma, a little girl of about ten years,
+the child being ill with fever. The doctor realizes the necessity of
+having ice on hand to prepare ice-caps to help reduce the child's
+fever. Since it is not so far to Pinedale as it is to the town where
+the doctor lives, the physician advises the father to ride there at
+once, and get back with the ice as soon as possible. He leaves a
+bottle of medicine with Jess, the elder girl, and gives her directions
+for the general care of Norma. It is while Freeman is away and Jess is
+alone with the child that Steve Hammond comes to the ranch, exhausted
+and hungry. He calls Jess out and she gives him a drink of water.
+Then, seeing his evident weariness and realizing that he must be
+hungry, she invites him to have something to eat before going on. Jess
+has never seen Steve before, nor does she guess who he is, although
+she has heard of "Aravaipa Steve."
+
+Since her visitor appears to be an honest man, Jess tells him that her
+father has gone to town--all the other men being away--to get ice for
+her sick sister. Steve is greatly touched by the sight of the sick
+child, and he suddenly remembers a cave in the foothills where there
+is ice buried beneath the rock and gravel. He gets a spare horse from
+the stable, and taking a couple of large saddle-bags goes to the cave,
+procures the ice, and returns to the ranch house. After Steve has
+placed ice-caps on Norma's head, Jess accidentally knocks the medicine
+bottle to the floor, breaking it and spilling the contents. Realizing
+the absolute necessity of having the medicine, Steve determines to
+ride to the doctor and tell him to take or send some more; but
+realizing also that he will be arrested the moment he is seen in town,
+he tells Jess who he is. She is astounded, but, unable to forget what
+he has already done for her, she tells him not to go--she will risk
+waiting until the return of her father, who can then go. But Steve
+declares that he will go, as delay may endanger the child's life. Upon
+his arrival at the doctor's, he is seized and dragged to the sheriff's
+office, but not before he has delivered his message to the physician.
+Dr. Turner rides to the ranch with the medicine, and Jess, feeling
+intuitively that harm will come to the man who has done so much for
+them, begs the doctor to ride back to protect him from the mob which,
+the doctor tells her, has more than once threatened to take the law
+into its own hands if Steve should be captured. Seeing her distress,
+both Freeman and the doctor ride to town, and through their efforts
+the sheriff is persuaded to allow Steve to make his escape from a back
+door of the office. He rides back to the ranch, says farewell to Jess,
+and is given her photograph, on the back of which she writes her name
+and a few words to the effect that she will be glad to hear how he
+gets along. He then rides away.
+
+At the end of a year, Jess receives a letter from Steve, saying that
+he is staying at Winslow, and that he is now living an honest life,
+and fills a good position in San Francisco. He asks her to try to
+persuade her father to bring her on a visit, so that he may see her
+again. When Jess shows her father Steve's letter, Freeman, knowing
+that Hammond has at least never been guilty of bloodshed, and
+believing that the preserver of his little Norma has completely
+reformed, agrees to take Jess there to see him. He knows that, great
+as has been his daughter's impression upon the former outlaw, his has
+been no less great and lasting upon her.
+
+
+CAST OF CHARACTERS
+
+James Freeman                    An Arizona rancher
+Jess                                   His daughter
+Norma                             Her little sister
+Steve Hammond, An outlaw, known as "Aravaipa Steve"
+Dr. Turner                            The physician
+     The sheriff
+     The sheriff's deputy
+     Cowboys, citizens, etc., in 1, 19, 21, and 23.
+
+
+SCENARIO, OR CONTINUITY OF SCENES
+
+1--Outside sheriff's office, main street of town--
+
+     One or two cowboys and several other citizens standing
+     around talking earnestly. Sheriff comes out of open door
+     with hand-lettered placard. He tacks it up beside a notice
+     of an auction sale of stock, close to door. Draws attention
+     of bystanders, who crowd around to read.
+
+On screen. Notice--
+
+     $5,000 REWARD!
+
+     FOR THE CAPTURE OF STEPHEN HAMMOND, BETTER KNOWN AS
+     "ARAVAIPA STEVE." WE _PREFER_ TO GET HIM ALIVE, AS HE
+     MAY TELL WHAT HE DONE WITH THE PROSEEDS OF HIS LAST HOLD-UP.
+
+Back to scene.
+
+     The bystanders are obviously dissatisfied. They protest to
+     sheriff, who shakes head emphatically.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     "THE ONLY GOOD I KIN SAY O' HIM IS THAT HE AIN'T NO
+     MURDERER. WE'LL HAVE NO LYNCHIN' WHILE I'M SHERIFF"
+
+Back to scene.
+
+     One of the cowboys gives the sheriff a strong argument, but
+     he holds his ground and taps his badge significantly. They
+     are still voicing their several opinions when scene ends.
+
+2--Dr. Turner's office--
+
+     Doctor lying on lounge, coat off, smoking. Turns eyes toward
+     door and then springs up as James Freeman enters, showing
+     great excitement and distress. Doctor asks what is wrong.
+     Freeman makes excited reply, urging doctor to get ready and
+     "come quick." Doctor compels him to speak more calmly and,
+     when he knows just what is wrong and hears Norma's symptoms,
+     he nods head and holds up hand, telling Freeman to sit down
+     and be quiet while he prepares some medicine. He measures
+     some drug from bottle in graduate and pours it into
+     eight-ounce bottle. With this in hand he steps out of room.
+     Freeman greatly agitated and anxious to start. Turner comes
+     back almost immediately, just corking bottle. He slips it
+     into pocket, picks up hat and medical case, then follows
+     Freeman out of room.
+
+3--Short exterior scene showing Freeman and Dr. Turner riding to
+ranch.
+
+4--Bedroom in Freeman's ranch house. Shelf on wall on which are
+several photographs in frames.
+
+     (Must be same as in scene 28.)
+
+     Norma lying in bed, ill with fever. Dr. Turner bending over
+     her. Freeman leaning over foot of bed watching anxiously.
+     Jess stands beside little table in centre of room, on which
+     are glasses, the medicine bottle, and the doctor's little
+     case. Her grief very evident. Dr. Turner's face very grave
+     as he turns away from bed. Freeman goes to him as he crosses
+     to table beside Jess. Doctor addresses Freeman, speaking
+     earnestly.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     "WE MUST HAVE ICE FOR HER. IT'S TWENTY MILES TO MY TOWN AND
+     FOURTEEN TO PINEDALE. START THERE AT ONCE, GET THE ICE, AND
+     WE'LL SAVE HER YET"
+
+Back to scene.
+
+     Freeman realizes the importance of being able to procure ice
+     as soon as possible. Starts to get ready, presently hurrying
+     out of room. Doctor turns to Jess and gives her instructions
+     as to administering the medicine, pointing to watch. She
+     nods. Doctor takes last look at child, then walks out of
+     room, Jess following.
+
+5--Corner of ranch house, looking toward stables--
+
+     Doctor comes out, followed by Jess. With a parting word, he
+     rides away. A moment later Freeman comes from direction of
+     stables driving buckboard. He says a few words to Jess, who
+     assures him that she will be all right, and then he drives
+     off rapidly. Jess re-enters house.
+
+6--Exterior, supposedly at distance from but within sight of ranch--
+
+     Steve Hammond rides slowly into picture, dismounts wearily,
+     leans against horse as if much fatigued, looks about in all
+     directions. Sees ranch house short distance away. Shows
+     hesitation, then sudden resolution. Swings into saddle and
+     rides out of picture.
+
+7--Corner of ranch house, same as 5--
+
+     Steve rides into picture in background, approaching
+     cautiously. Leaves horse standing at short distance from
+     house, ready for quick get-away. Creeps forward stealthily,
+     gun in hand, ready. (If window between corner of house and
+     door, passes beneath it stooping.) Reaches door and knocks.
+     Hearing someone approaching, he holds gun out of sight
+     behind back. Jess appears in doorway. Steve registers that
+     he is impressed by girl's appearance. She, that he is a
+     stranger. He asks for a drink of water. She goes in to get
+     it. He quickly replaces gun in holster. Jess comes out with
+     dipper of water; he drinks greedily, then sways weakly and
+     drops to steps. Jess, seeing his exhaustion, shows sympathy.
+     Asks if he is hungry. He looks up and nods. She looks at him
+     a moment as if estimating his character and then asks him
+     into the house. He holds back, hesitating a moment, then
+     weakly follows her in.
+
+8--Kitchen of ranch house--
+
+     Jess places chair beside table and asks Steve to sit down.
+     He watches her with evident but respectful admiration as she
+     brings food and pours cup of coffee. She watches him
+     sympathetically as he eats. Presently he looks up at her,
+     then around, and points toward door. He questions her. She
+     shakes head negatively, looking at him steadily.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     "THE MEN ARE ALL AWAY. FATHER'S GONE TO GET ICE FOR MY SICK
+     SISTER"
+
+Back to scene.
+
+     Jess watches him closely as she speaks. He shows only look
+     of relief. He questions her again. She points to door
+     leading to bedroom. He looks toward door and she crosses to
+     it, pushing it softly open. She turns and signs for him to
+     look inside. She herself stands in doorway as he passes her
+     and goes into room.
+
+9--Bedroom, same as 4--
+
+     Steve moves past Jess into room, crossing to bedside.
+     Genuine sympathy in his expression as he looks at child and
+     notes her fevered condition. He places hand on child's
+     forehead and shakes his head. Looks toward Jess, standing in
+     doorway, then goes out following her back into--
+
+10--Kitchen, same as 8--
+
+     He sits down on chair; evidently he is greatly touched by
+     the child's condition and Jess's helplessness. Suddenly he
+     springs up excitedly and turns to Jess, speaking rapidly.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     "THERE'S ICE NEARER THAN PINEDALE. WITH A SPARE HORSE, I'LL
+     GET YOU PLENTY INSIDE OF AN HOUR"
+
+Back to scene.
+
+     Jess looks at him in astonishment and questions him. He
+     emphatic in repeating what he has said. He asks about horse,
+     pointing to outer door. As Jess leads way, Steve picks up
+     hat and follows her out.
+
+11--Exterior, at door of stable--
+
+     Jess standing holding Steve's horse. Steve comes from stable
+     leading another horse, with couple of large saddle-bags,
+     pick, and short-handled shovel, on its back. He points to
+     these and mounts his horse. Jess smiles gratefully, then
+     looks grave again. He reaches down and just touches her
+     reassuringly on the shoulder. Then he rides quickly away,
+     leading the second horse, while Jess watches him for a
+     moment, and then starts toward house.
+
+12--Foothill trail--
+
+     Steve riding up trail, disappearing round bend of hill.
+
+13--Rocky portion of hillside showing entrance to sort of cave in side
+of cliff--
+
+     Steve dismounts, ties both horses, takes pick and shovel
+     from second horse, then goes forward and enters cave.
+
+14--Interior of cave--
+
+     Steve kneeling and removing large rocks from floor of cave.
+     Rises, takes pick and makes good-sized hole in rocky
+     ground, using both pick and shovel. Suddenly stops, kneels,
+     works with hands a moment, rises, takes up pick and drives
+     it into bottom of hole he has made. Throws pick down,
+     kneels, holds up fair-sized piece of ice. Rises, runs out of
+     cave. Back almost immediately with saddle-bags. Throws them
+     down, takes up pick and starts to get out the ice.
+
+15--Entrance to cave, same as 13--
+
+     Steve just finishing loading horse with saddle-bags filled
+     with ice. Secures pick and shovel across bags, mounts own
+     horse and starts to ride away, leading second horse as
+     before.
+
+16--Ranch house, same as 5--
+
+     Jess standing in doorway, great anxiety in face. Expression
+     changes as she sees Steve ride up in background. He
+     dismounts in front of door, takes saddle-bags from horse
+     and, with Jess leading, goes into house.
+
+17--Bedroom, same as 4--
+
+     Steve is just making an ice-pack with a piece of flannel.
+     Places it on child's head. He stands watching the child
+     intently for a moment, then looks at the girl. Jess shows
+     her gratitude very plainly. She holds out her hand. Steve
+     starts to take it, then draws back sharply. Jess astonished,
+     not understanding his reluctance. He hangs his head, but
+     remains silent. Jess watches him for a moment and then turns
+     away. She is standing by table which is close to the bed.
+     As she turns she knocks over the bottle of medicine with one
+     hand. It falls to floor and breaks, spilling on carpet. Jess
+     shows utter consternation. Steve also distressed. Jess
+     points to alarm clock standing on table, speaking to Steve
+     excitedly. He greatly impressed by the gravity of the
+     situation. She indicates that the doctor lives in the
+     distant town. He nods, evidently trying to make up his mind
+     what to do. Suddenly turns to Jess, looks straight into her
+     eyes, then extends hand. She is puzzled, but takes proffered
+     hand. Steve holds hers a moment and then drops it. He looks
+     at her again and then hangs head, speaking with face
+     averted.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     "I'LL SEE THAT YOU GET MORE MEDICINE ALL RIGHT; BUT _I_
+     WON'T BRING IT. OVER IN TOWN THEY CALL ME 'ARAVAIPA STEVE'"
+
+Back to scene.
+
+     As Steve speaks, Jess looks at him horror-stricken, and
+     shrinks, hiding face in hands. Steve watches her with
+     expression of mingled anguish and remorse. Suddenly Jess
+     draws herself erect, indicating that, no matter who or what
+     he may be, she thanks him for what he has done for her and
+     appreciates it. Extends her hand, looking him full in the
+     face. He hesitates, then seizes her hand in both of his and
+     grips it. She does not move--simply continues to gaze
+     straight into his eyes. Steve drops her hand and reaches
+     for his hat. She watches him as he prepares to leave. Then,
+     suddenly, she shows that she fully realizes what it means to
+     him to go for the medicine. She springs to his side and
+     seizes his arm. Pointing--as if toward town--she indicates
+     that he will be arrested the moment he appears there. He
+     nods head resignedly. She points to the sick child. Then she
+     reaches out to take his hat, shaking her head. "You must not
+     go; I can't forget what you have already done for her." He
+     looks at her a moment, shows that he realizes the
+     consequences, then takes his hat from her, his face showing
+     strong determination. He picks up the upper portion of the
+     broken medicine bottle from the floor; then points to the
+     child on the bed.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     "THE CHILD'S SAFETY IS WHAT I'M THINKIN' OF. THEY'LL GET ME
+     SOONER OR LATER ANYHOW. I'M GOIN'!"
+
+Back to scene.
+
+     Steve turns quickly toward door. Jess speaks and he turns to
+     face her. She approaches slowly and stops in front of him,
+     looks steadily into his eyes for a moment, then impulsively
+     holds out both her hands. He seizes them, holds them a
+     moment, then, as she drops her eyes, he lowers her hands
+     slowly, steps backward, turns, and exit quickly. She looks
+     up as he passes out of door, then drops on her knees beside
+     bed and, with one hand reaching out to the child, looks
+     upward as if in prayer.
+
+18--Exterior--
+
+     Steve riding hard into town.
+
+19--On the outskirts of the town--
+
+     Steve rides into picture, going at same speed as before. Man
+     (not cowboy, but carrying gun in holster) recognizes him as
+     he approaches. Draws gun, stands at side of road, and, as
+     Steve comes close raises gun and calls on him to halt. Steve
+     only bends low and gives the horse the spurs, dashing past
+     at full gallop. Man raises his gun and fires after him, then
+     shows by his look of chagrin that he has not stopped him.
+
+20--Looking back over same road, but at point farther on toward town--
+
+     Steve rides into picture, his left arm hanging limp, holding
+     gun in right hand, prepared to use it rather than stop;
+     reins hanging on horse's neck. He takes reins in right
+     hand--after restoring gun to holster--and rides on.
+
+21--Exterior of doctor's house, with sign, "Dr. Turner"--
+
+     Steve rides into picture, pulls up, dismounts, and with an
+     expression of pain takes hold of wounded left arm with right
+     hand, gripping it as if to ease pain. Runs up steps and
+     knocks at door. As he is facing door, another man sees and
+     recognizes him. This man is not armed, and he merely shakes
+     fist at Steve behind the outlaw's back, then passes out of
+     picture. Dr. Turner comes to door, and falls back astounded
+     as he recognizes "Aravaipa Steve." "You! What do _you_ want
+     here?" Then he sees the wounded arm, and points to it. Steve
+     shakes head emphatically and proceeds to tell what has
+     happened at the ranch. As he finishes, the doctor looks him
+     over from head to foot, then holds out his hand, which the
+     outlaw grasps silently. Dr. Turner beckons him into the
+     house; but just as Steve is about to follow the doctor in,
+     the man who saw him knock on the door returns with a party
+     of ten or a dozen citizens and cowboys. Half a dozen point
+     guns at Steve and he throws up his right hand in obedience
+     to their command, indicating that his left is injured. The
+     doctor tries to explain, but they wave him back. Steve turns
+     to doctor and tells him to hurry and get the medicine off to
+     the sick child. Doctor nods. Believing that the outlaw will
+     be taken to the sheriff, he goes in to prepare the medicine.
+     Steve is led away by the crowd.
+
+22--Corner of ranch house, same as 5--
+
+     Doctor rides into picture, pulling up in front of door. As
+     he calls out, Jess comes to door followed by her father. Dr.
+     Turner takes bottle of medicine from pocket of his coat and
+     hands it to Jess. Jess hands it to father and turns to
+     doctor again. She is excited and obviously much distressed
+     at the thought of what may have happened to Steve. Questions
+     the doctor anxiously. At his reply she shows signs of
+     breaking into tears. Then turns to her father.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     "I FEAR THAT THE MOB WILL TAKE HIM FROM THE SHERIFF. FOR THE
+     SAKE OF ALL HE HAS DONE FOR US, RIDE BACK TO PROTECT HIM"
+
+Back to scene.
+
+     Freeman, knowing what Steve has done, looks very grave. He
+     speaks to doctor, who nods head. Then he turns to Jess,
+     signifies his intention of riding to town at once, and tells
+     her to attend to Norma, giving her the medicine. The doctor
+     dismounts, dashes into house, and returns almost
+     immediately. He indicates that the child is already somewhat
+     improved. He mounts, and with a parting word to the girl,
+     both men ride rapidly out of picture.
+
+23--Outside sheriff's office, same as 1--
+
+     Mob of cowboys and citizens talking excitedly and crowding
+     in front of closed door. Evidently all are of the opinion
+     that Steve should be "strung up." They cease talking and
+     turn, looking up street. Dr. Turner and Freeman ride up and
+     dismount. They force their way through crowd and approach
+     door of the sheriff's office. They knock twice, but door
+     does not open. Freeman calls loudly to those inside, while
+     Dr. Turner faces the mob and warns them to keep their
+     distance when the door is opened. Presently door opens,
+     sheriff and his deputy appearing, with guns drawn. Freeman
+     quickly tells them what they want and he and doctor pass
+     inside. Mob becomes very demonstrative now.
+
+24--Interior of sheriff's office. Door at left, closest to
+working-line, leads to street. Door at back of room, when opened,
+shows exterior backing--
+
+     Enter Dr. Turner and Freeman. Sheriff and deputy step back
+     as they enter and bar door the moment they have come in.
+     Steve sits on chair beside table, handcuffed. His face shows
+     only a complete resignation to his fate. He is neither
+     excited nor indifferent. Doctor speaks to sheriff, who nods.
+     Doctor goes to Steve with deputy, who unlocks handcuffs.
+     Doctor quickly examines Steve's wounded arm, then binds it
+     up. _Meantime_ the sheriff is listening to Freeman, who
+     tells him of all Steve has done for him, in helping to save
+     the life of his child. Sheriff plainly much impressed. Looks
+     across at Steve and shakes head, realizing his duty and yet
+     filled with sympathy for the outlaw. Freeman continues to
+     plead with him. Doctor finishes working with Steve and looks
+     across at them. Sheriff and deputy whirl round and draw guns
+     again as all hear sound of heavy blows on street door. (If
+     position of door in set permits, show door shaken as if by
+     blows upon it.) All realize that the mob means business. On
+     back wall is reward placard similar to one posted outside
+     (same card). Sheriff, turning to Steve, points to this.
+     Steve nods. Sheriff calls attention of all to back door.
+     Then, facing Steve again, he indicates, "If I let you go
+     that way, will you live honestly hereafter?" Steve looks at
+     him a moment, then crosses to placard and pointing to words
+     proclaiming reward for "Aravaipa Steve," passes other hand
+     in front of eyes, as if in disgust at what he has been, then
+     hangs head. Sheriff watches him a moment, then holds out his
+     hand. Steve grasps it and turns to Freeman and Dr. Turner.
+     As deputy turns toward street door, hearing more knocking
+     upon it, Freeman and doctor both shake hands with Steve,
+     sheriff quietly opens back door, and Steve, after hesitating
+     a moment, slips out. Sheriff bars back door and, turning
+     around, runs across to street door and shouts to crowd on
+     outside, haranguing them to gain time.
+
+25--Rear of sheriff's office, showing corner of building and side
+wall, looking toward street. Several horses are tied all along side of
+wall, out of sight of the mob in front of building--
+
+     Steve, leaving door, which is just closing, creeps up to
+     nearest horse, unties it, and leads it away from building
+     (toward camera). Then he mounts and dashes away, out of
+     picture.
+
+26--Interior of sheriff's office, same as 24--
+
+     Sheriff, smiling at others in room, still arguing with crowd
+     outside. Deputy, Freeman and Dr. Turner, also smiling, stand
+     in center of room.
+
+27--Front of ranch house, same as 5--
+
+     Steve rides up and dismounts, calling out to Jess. She
+     presently appears in doorway. On seeing him safe, her face
+     shows intense relief and thankfulness. Then she realizes
+     that he is not yet out of danger. She points toward town. He
+     indicates that the horse he has ridden belongs to someone in
+     town. He takes money from pocket and hands it to her,
+     indicating that he wishes her to give it to the owner of the
+     horse. She assents. Steve then points inside. Jess invites
+     him to follow her in. He goes up steps after her.
+
+28--Bedroom, same as 4--
+
+     Jess enters, followed by Steve. He goes across to bed and
+     bends over Norma, who is sleeping quietly. Turning around,
+     he sees the photographs on the shelf on wall, Jess's picture
+     among them. He looks at her as if hesitating to speak, then,
+     pointing to her picture, asks if he may take it with him.
+     She is a trifle confused at first; then, realizing the
+     change that has taken place in the man, she takes it down
+     and is about to hand it to him, when he takes piece of
+     pencil from pocket of vest and hands it to her, asking her
+     to write her name on it. Jess looks at him, then takes
+     pencil and writes on back of photo.
+
+29--Bust of Jess's right hand holding photograph, showing back, on
+which is written:
+
+     WITH THE SYMPATHY AND BEST WISHES OF JESS FREEMAN. I SHOULD
+     LIKE TO KNOW, A YEAR FROM NOW, HOW YOU ARE GETTING ON.
+
+30--Back to 28--
+
+     Jess hands the photograph to Steve. He glances at what is
+     written and looks at her as if longing to speak, but merely
+     takes her hand and looks his great gratitude, and
+     determination to atone for the past, urged on by her
+     encouragement. Then he turns to door and she follows him out
+     of room.
+
+31--Front of ranch, same as 5--
+
+     Steve mounted ready to ride away. He holds photograph in
+     left hand, still bandaged. He puts out right hand again and
+     takes Jess's, in a parting handshake. Then he puts photo in
+     inner pocket of vest, and with a last word and a smile of
+     gratitude, rides quickly away. Jess watches him ride out of
+     sight, then sits on steps and looks in direction he has
+     gone, starting to weep softly.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     A YEAR LATER.
+
+32--Kitchen, same as 8--
+
+     Jess laying table for meal. Norma assisting her (or, if a
+     young child is used, playing). Freeman enters from outer
+     door, as if just returning from town. He carries bundles,
+     etc. Puts these down, takes letters from pocket, hands two
+     to Jess. She looks at one and lays it carelessly on table.
+     After a glance at the other she signifies, "It must be from
+     him!" Freeman and child do not observe her expression. She
+     opens letter and reads:
+
+On screen. Letter--
+
+     Dear Miss Freeman,
+
+     I am writing this from Winslow--it's as near to your home as
+     I care to go. But I've got a good position in San Francisco,
+     and thank God I'm living honestly where nobody knows my past
+     record. I'd give anything to see you again. Do you think
+     your father would bring you on a visit?
+
+     Gratefully yours,
+
+     Stephen Hammond.
+
+Back to scene.
+
+     Jess's face lights up gladly. She goes to her father and
+     gives him letter, which he reads. He looks at her narrowly.
+     She hangs her head in some confusion. He stands for a moment
+     in deep thought. Then he takes Jess's hands and, as she
+     looks straight into his eyes, he nods his head, draws her to
+     him and kisses her. Norma comes up and puts her arms round
+     her father as he and Jess stand there. Jess kneels and takes
+     Norma in her arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE MECHANICAL PREPARATION OF THE SCRIPT
+
+
+Any successful photoplaywright will testify that the proper
+preparation of the photoplay script has much to do with its being
+accepted, especially if more than the mere synopsis is offered.
+
+At first this may seem to be an extreme statement, but its truth will
+become more and more evident as we proceed. Furthermore, its
+importance should be accepted by writers early in the work because
+every stage of photoplay writing has its direct bearing upon, and
+looks toward, the preparation of the script. For this reason the
+present chapter is introduced at this point, though in actual
+time-sequence the preparation of the manuscript in its final form will
+usually come after all its several parts have been considered, blocked
+out, and arranged. It will be highly important, therefore, to review
+this chapter after finishing the sections of this volume which deal in
+particular with the several parts of the photoplay.
+
+It is to be regretted, let us reiterate, that so much has been said,
+by manufacturers and others, to the effect that no literary training
+is necessary in order to write salable photoplays, for, as a result,
+countless absolutely "impossible" scripts are constantly pouring into
+the editors' offices--impossible, in a great many cases, not because
+of the lack of idea, for very often the illiterate writer has both a
+vivid imagination and the power to use it, but because frequently the
+good idea is expressed in such unintelligible language, and with such
+execrable spelling and hopelessly incorrect punctuation, that the
+thread of the plot, its meaning, and values, cannot be grasped by the
+editor. Even when the story itself is not utterly lost to the script
+reader, he is too busy a man to wade through it bit by bit, struggling
+to make something out of a jumble of confusing words. The demand for
+good scripts is greater than the supply--but the supply is increasing,
+and the standard is rising. This means that although there are
+dozens--to put it mildly--of men and women entering the field each
+week, easily three-fourths of these brand themselves as hopelessly
+unqualified when they drop their first script into the mail-box.
+
+The repeated failures of the unprepared have given rise to the rumor
+that only the scripts of favored writers are read in editorial
+offices. The old trick of placing small pieces of paper between the
+sheets, in order to prove whether or not the script was read through,
+is as popular today as it was twenty years ago with story writers. The
+gentleman who has the first reading of all the scripts received by a
+certain company called the attention of one of the present authors to
+just such a script only recently. What was the result? Some of the
+minute pieces of paper fell out the moment the script was taken from
+the envelope for examination. That was enough. The script was almost
+immediately placed in another envelope and returned to the
+writer--with a rejection slip. Unfair treatment of the writer? Not at
+all! Following the discovery of the concealed particles of paper, a
+glance at the first page was sufficient to convince the editor that it
+was the work of another amateur who was foolish enough to add to a
+miserably prepared script the proof that he doubted the honesty of the
+editor to whom he had addressed his offering.
+
+It is only reasonable to believe that every editor will read at least
+so much of every script as is necessary to convince him of its value
+or its lack of value to the firm by which he is employed. He draws a
+salary to discover stories which _are_ worth while, and is always on
+the lookout for good, live, gripping stories which will make pictures
+calculated to add to the reputation of his employer. There is just one
+way he can find such stories, when the author's name is unknown to
+him, and that is by reading the script, either in whole or so far as
+to permit his trained judgment to pass fairly upon it. The editor who
+does not do this honestly either does not exist or will soon lose his
+position, for he will be sure to overlook valuable material by his
+negligence.
+
+At the very outstart resolve to _be professional in your methods, be
+businesslike, and play fair_.
+
+The advisability of constantly abiding by these three rules of the
+photoplay writing "game" must be apparent to any intelligent person.
+Though the field for the sale of photoplay scripts is likely to become
+much larger, and the prices paid promise to become better as time
+goes on, every day some new writer of proved ability (in the field of
+fiction writing, as a rule), enters _this_ field. Against him, with
+his superior experience and knowledge of literary usages, you must
+compete. Therefore, in order to win, you must do as he does. _He is
+fair to himself._ From a mechanical point, his scripts are likely to
+be all that they ought to be; he sends them out knowing that they are
+in correct form to receive the proper consideration of the most
+exacting editor. _And they do._ In the same mail with his script comes
+one from a beginner. This unknown writer may have an idea--that _most_
+important requisite in picture-play writing--which is really fresher
+and even better than that embodied in the story of the experienced
+writer. But the merit of the idea is hopelessly concealed under a mass
+of misleading and unnecessary language; the script is poorly
+written--in longhand; it is badly spaced; spelling, punctuation,
+everything, betray ignorance or carelessness of what is expected in a
+properly prepared script. What chance, then, does it stand when placed
+beside that of the trained writer? And whose fault is it?
+
+_Give yourself a fair chance._ From the day that you write your first
+photoplay, write it so carefully, prepare the script with so much
+regard for the accepted rules, that no editor will be able to point to
+it with a sigh and exclaim: "Oh, well, it has to be read. Here goes!"
+Make it a script that he will dive into with keen anticipation of
+finding something as good as its mechanical preparation would cause
+him to expect.
+
+We now add a number of items of practical advice.
+
+[Illustration: Essanay Producing Yard; Two Interior Sets Being
+Arranged for a Historical Drama]
+
+[Illustration: Players Waiting for Their Cues in the Glass-Enclosed
+Selig Studio]
+
+THE PAPER. This is an important matter, and you should _not_ follow
+your own preference or convenience. The paper should be of regulation
+Ms. ("letter") size, 8-1/2 by 11 inches, not transparent, and should
+be pure white.
+
+The editor prefers not to examine odd sizes when he is used to the
+uniformity of the proper manuscript paper. Never use foolscap, or
+8-1/2 by 13 paper. The writer knows one studio in which the different
+directors, all of whom write photoplays of their own, use the 8-1/2 by
+13 size; but remember, it is the director's privilege to write his
+scripts on shop-keeper's wrapping paper if he so desires. So make it
+8-1/2 by 11.
+
+It must be opaque, because no editor wants to be annoyed by having the
+writing on the second sheet show through between the lines of the
+first, when he is reading that. That is the chief, and a sufficient,
+reason. A second, is that thin paper is flimsy and hard to handle.
+
+It should be white, because that, too, is the common practice.
+Besides, dull white paper displays the typewriting most clearly. We
+have heard of one photoplay writer who uses a buff-colored paper, and
+who maintains that since adopting it his scripts have received better
+treatment than formerly; his theory being that, on account of the
+difference in color, his scripts attracted attention and were more
+carefully handled. This may be true; but a good grade of yellow paper
+will cost you more than white, and if white, opaque paper is good
+enough for the leading photoplay writers, why not make it your paper?
+The cheapest grade of paper that is sufficiently opaque costs about
+$1.50 a box, containing one ream, 500 sheets. The next heavier costs
+about $2.00 a box; a still better quality, a few cents more. Certainly
+here is a case where, up to a reasonable limit, the best is the
+cheapest. If you take pride in your work, send it out well dressed;
+but, no matter how aesthetic your taste may be, never use the shades of
+cherry, opaline, canary, or Nile green, in which certain grades of
+paper are made.
+
+RULES FOR WRITING THE SCRIPT. Instead of simply saying that the
+manuscript _should_ be typewritten, let us ask once more: If you are
+in earnest, and intend to succeed, why not give yourself every chance
+to gain the editor's attention and interest by proclaiming that you
+are a business man as well as a writer? Many film manufacturers
+plainly announce that only typed scripts will be examined. Therefore
+write the script with a typewriter. Today, when many companies rent
+good machines at from $4.00 for three months to $3.00 a month, and
+when you can buy a typewriter outright for from $15.00 to $100.00, the
+writer who is able to use one and who does not do so is simply being
+unfair to himself. Any good machine may now be had by paying down a
+small sum and the same amount monthly for a term of months. Serious
+writers should promptly decide to step out of the amateur class and
+equip themselves properly for the work. If you wish to experiment with
+your talents before deciding to rent or buy a typewriting machine,
+there are plenty of responsible typists who will typewrite your script
+for from 35 cents to 50 cents per thousand words, including one
+carbon copy.
+
+If you have a typewriter you will, of course, make at least one carbon
+copy. Should the script you send out be lost or badly marred in any
+way, you have the carbon from which you can make another, but never be
+so unwise as to send out the carbon copy itself should the original be
+lost. Make a new copy. In the first place, should the carbon copy also
+be lost, you will have nothing left as a record of your story--unless
+you happen to have kept your notes and rough draft. Besides, carbon
+copies rarely look as well as an original script, and the editor who
+receives a carbon might not look upon it with any great favor--though
+this is the least valid reason.
+
+Another important point is, if your photoplay is accepted, your copy
+will serve you as a valuable basis for criticism of your own work,
+inasmuch as you can compare the play as written with the play as
+produced, observing what changes the editor and director may have
+deemed necessary. This practice is followed pretty generally by
+earnest writers of fiction, but is applicable also to photoplay
+writing, and should help the writer, after seeing his play produced,
+to do even better work next time.
+
+For carbon copies, almost any weight and quality of paper will serve.
+A plain yellow or a manilla paper, costing about 50 cents a box of 500
+sheets, is very satisfactory.
+
+Most authors who are users of typewriters know that a black "record"
+ribbon is far superior to a "copying" ribbon. The latter is likely to
+smudge or blur and spoil a clean manuscript. Again, it pays to get a
+pretty good grade of carbon paper; the best, in fact, is none too good
+for literary work of any kind. Cheap carbons smear the copy and stain
+the writer's fingers; besides, they have a tendency to make the copy
+look as if it were covered with a fine layer of soot or black dust.
+Avoid them.
+
+GENERAL DIRECTIONS. Other hard and fast rules for the practice of
+photoplay writing are:
+
+Do not write on both sides of the paper.
+
+Do not fasten the sheets of your script with clips or pins which
+perforate the paper; there are at least half-a-dozen kinds of paper
+clips which hold the sheets firmly without permanently fastening them
+together. The editor likes to have the sheets loose when reading the
+script.
+
+Above all, do not roll your script. If it is 8-1/2 by 11 paper, as it
+ought to be, fold it no more than twice. That is what all writers do
+who follow the rules.
+
+DIRECTIONS FOR TYPING THE SCRIPT. While it is well to remember that
+the suggestions here offered are intended for those who type their own
+photoplays, the same suggestions can be made by authors to the
+professional typists to whom they send their stories to be prepared
+for the editor.
+
+The editor of one company suggests that it is best always to put your
+name and address on each sheet of the manuscript. This is simply
+"making assurance doubly sure" that the script will not go astray or
+become mixed in the editorial office, for winds and dropped
+manuscripts sometimes play annoying tricks upon editors, it need
+hardly be said. But at least write your name and address plainly in
+the upper left-hand corner of the _first_ sheet of the synopsis; then
+write it in the same place on the _first_ sheet of the _scenario_;
+and, provided you have room--if the last scene of your scenario does
+not run clear to the bottom of the page--also at the bottom of the
+_last_ page of your scenario. Then, further, write on every other page
+the title of your photoplay. If it is a short title, write it in full.
+If it should be a long title, such as "Where Love is, There God is
+Also," a Selig release taken from Tolstoy's story of the same name,
+simply write "Where Love is, etc." That will be ample to identify your
+work should one of the sheets become separated from the rest of the
+script. Thus the editor has your name and address in three different
+places, and with all or part of your title on the other sheets of the
+script, there is little danger of any part going astray after it
+reaches his hands.
+
+The following plan for the actual mechanical preparation of the three
+or four parts of the script has been approved by editors in general;
+nevertheless, it is here offered as a suggestion, not laid down as a
+rule. To follow it, however, insures your having a neat, readable
+script, one which will catch the editor's attention as soon as he
+opens it.
+
+The scale-bar on most standard typewriters is numbered from 0 (the
+next figure, of course, being 1) to 75. Each figure indicates one
+space. When writing your name and address on the first page of both
+synopsis and scenario, set your left marginal stop at 5. When the
+paper is pushed as far to the left of the paper-shield as it will go,
+this will give you a left-hand margin of about 1-3/16 inches--which is
+quite wide enough for the margin on a photoplay script. Write your
+name and address so that the top line will come about three-quarters
+of an inch from the top of the sheet, and, keeping it even with the
+left-hand margin, write the two or three lines of the name and address
+directly beneath each other, and the other material below, in the
+manner illustrated on the succeeding type-page.
+
+
+Frank B. Stanwood,
+392 W. 62nd St.,
+New York City.
+
+   _T H E  R A J A H ' S  H E I R_
+
+_Dramatic Photoplay in 27 Scenes;_
+
+_6 Interior and 10 Exterior Settings_
+
+   (Use only one line in Ms.)
+
+
+            _S Y N O P S I S_
+
+
+The first sheet of the script being the one on which you commence to
+write your synopsis, first of all get your title neatly spaced.
+
+Always write your title entirely in capitals, leaving one space
+between each letter of each word in the title, and three spaces
+between each word. Say that your title contains three words, as the
+foregoing. After you have written the first word--with a space between
+every letter--the machine will automatically space one. Do not count
+that as one, in leaving the three spaces suggested, but touch your
+space-bar three times. This will move the carriage back so that the
+first letter of the next word will be printed four spaces away from
+the last letter of your first word, leaving three spaces between. Take
+one sheet of your typewriter paper and keep it as a test sheet, trying
+out your title-spacing thus: Write the complete title, with spacing as
+suggested above, once, getting it as nearly right (with even spaces on
+either side) as you can at a good guess. If it is not right, space one
+line down on your trial sheet and try it again, this time a little
+farther to the right or left as the case demands. One or two trials
+and you will have it as nearly even in margins as it can be made on a
+typewriter. Thus, in a title like
+
+     T H E  H E R O I N E  O F  T H E
+                P L A I N S
+
+you will find that to start the first word at 11 on the scale-bar,
+managing the spacing as suggested, will get your title in the centre
+of the page with practically no variation in the two margins.
+
+Then, about an inch below the title, write the descriptive lines:
+
+Dramatic Photoplay in 28 Scenes;
+
+5 Interior and 12 Exterior Settings
+
+as described in the chapter on "The Synopsis." About an inch below
+this, write the word
+
+          S Y N O P S I S
+
+starting to write at 28 on the scale-bar. The O in the word OF, the
+middle word of your title, is the exact centre of the title. Starting
+the word
+
+          S Y N O P S I S
+
+on 28 causes the centre of this word (which is the space between the O
+and the P) to fall exactly beneath the centre of the title. Then,
+about 1-1/2 inches below that, start to write your story in synopsis
+form. Commence your paragraph at 15, indenting ten spaces from the
+left margin. Thus the neatness and businesslike appearance of your
+pages will impress the editor favorably at the very first glance.
+Follow the same rule when typing the scenario, or continuity, and also
+the scene-plot, if one is made.
+
+Having written your synopsis, if you find that you have plenty of room
+on the last sheet to write your cast of characters, do so; but do not
+crowd it in. If you cannot get it in so as to look well, double
+spaced, and appearing to be, as it should, a separate division (though
+not necessarily a separate sheet) of the manuscript, by all means give
+it a separate sheet.
+
+On the other hand, there is a rule regarding separation of divisions
+of the script which must be observed in every case. You must ALWAYS
+start to write the _scenario_ on a fresh sheet, no matter how much
+room you have left after writing your cast. The reason for this is
+simply that, should your scenario be in proper shape for the director
+to work from just as it is, he wants the scenario separate. Having
+read the synopsis once or twice, he is through with it; whereas, when
+working on a picture, the director "sleeps with the scenario."
+
+And now a word as to the typing of the continuity, or scenario, for
+you should do everything in your power so to prepare it as to make its
+every word quickly and easily understood.
+
+In the first place, we strongly recommend the following method for the
+mechanical preparation of the scenario:
+
+When writing the number of your first scene (1), place the indicator
+at 0 on the scale-bar. Write all scene-numbers up to 9 at the same
+point. When you start to write scene-numbers containing two figures
+(from 10 to as high as you will go) do so at 0 and 1, respectively.
+Now space one, then print the hyphen mark (which will make a short
+dash), after which space one or two, as the case may be, which will
+bring you to 5 on the scale-bar. At 5 start to write the _descriptive
+phrase_ for your scene. You should also make 5 your left marginal
+point for the writing of the body of your action. In writing the
+subject matter of each scene, or division, of the action, _commence
+each new paragraph_ at 15. In writing "Leader," "On screen, Letter,"
+_or any other_ direction intended especially for the director, always
+start to write at 0 on the scale-bar, in a direct downward line with
+your scene-numbers.
+
+The result of following these suggestions will be a neat and
+attractive type-page, upon which the producer will be able to locate
+the scene-numbers and other directions at a glance, as may be seen
+from the following example:
+
+[Illustration:
+
+LEADER-
+
+  FIVE YEARS LATER TOM RETURNS HOME.
+
+8-Platform of Railway Station.
+     Train pulls in and stops.
+
+  Tom alights. Sets grip on ground
+  --feels in pocket--produces
+  Kate's letter. Opens it and
+  glances at it again.
+
+ON SCREEN, LETTER-
+
+   DEAR TOM:
+
+      Remember your promise. We
+   shall be counting upon seeing
+   you at Christmas. Don't for-
+   get--etc.
+
+BACK TO SCENE.]
+
+The fact that every studio has writers on its staff to make over
+scenarios which are good but not in quite the correct form for the
+director, into what are known as "working scripts," should make no
+difference to you when writing your script. Let what you offer to the
+editor be as perfect as you can make it, regardless of what becomes of
+it after you have sold it. Make it, in _every_ sense, a desirable
+script.
+
+With regard to the proper spacing for a photoplay manuscript, some
+editors prefer single and others double spacing. Again, sometimes an
+editor may have a fondness for double spacing, while the director
+leans to scripts that are single-spaced. Our experience has shown,
+however, that the majority of editors and directors like single
+spacing for the actual subject-matter of the scene--the paragraphs of
+action--but double spacing _between all other matter_. Therefore use
+double space between a leader and the description of the scene which
+follows, and between the description of the scene and the action
+proper. This method of spacing, when combined with the rule of placing
+all directions in the extreme left-hand margin, results in a script
+that is almost sure to be satisfactory, and is certainly attractive,
+mechanically.
+
+In conclusion, do not forget that a _good_ typewriter is a tool of the
+writer's trade, and perhaps the most important tool of all. As for
+the question of which is the _best_ typewriter, it is entirely a
+matter of opinion. If you live in a small town, where there is no
+typewriter agent or agency, see if, among your business acquaintances,
+there are not represented all the standard makes. Ask permission to
+examine as many different makes as you can find; try what each will
+do; make up your mind whether you prefer the single or the double
+keyboard. If you choose a machine with the single keyboard, you must
+get used to the shift-key system of printing capitals, yet many
+writers prefer the single keyboard. If you are _buying_ a machine the
+makers will gladly substitute for one of the needless characters
+already on the keyboard--such as @--an odd character for which a
+writer of photoplays or of fiction would have particular use, such as
+the exclamation mark.
+
+Having a typewriter, take care of it. Clean the type regularly with a
+stiff brush; keep it cleaned and oiled; protect the platen from spots
+of oil or grease of any kind; and give the machine the general
+attention which it deserves.
+
+From all this, it may seem that undue stress is laid upon the neat
+appearance of the script, and the way it is planned from a mechanical
+viewpoint. But we re-affirm what has been said at the opening of the
+present chapter, and, in addition, we assert that not only are
+neatness and correctness in the preparation of the script of
+importance now, but, in the good times to come, to which all photoplay
+writers are looking forward, the names that will be featured on the
+posters and in the advertising matter of the companies will be the
+names of the writers to whom the big checks are paid, and for whose
+work there will be a steady demand, and they will be the names of the
+writers who consider it worth while to TAKE PAINS.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE TITLE
+
+
+For a few moments, it will be well to pause in order to survey the
+road we have patiently travelled in our efforts toward writing the
+photoplay, and also to look briefly at the course that lies ahead.
+
+In the preceding six chapters we have determined the precise meaning
+of the word "photoplay;" touched upon the qualifications necessary to
+success in photoplay writing; familiarized ourselves with the
+vocabulary of the craft; looked briefly at the parts of the photoplay
+script; examined a complete specimen; and found what are the proper
+methods for its typing.
+
+After all this foundation work, containing the general information and
+instructions necessary to enable the photoplaywright to take up
+intelligently the actual planning, building, and writing of the story,
+we enter upon a second group of discussions, chapters VII to XII,
+which are essentially lessons in _how_ to write the photoplay.
+
+The third section, from Chapter XIII to the end, takes up the details
+of instruction and information in such a way as to supplement the main
+points before discussed--minor yet really important points which are
+sure to be of value to the photoplaywright in his work of turning out
+a script that will need little or no changing on the part of the
+director or the staff-writer.
+
+
+_1. Importance of the Title_
+
+Nearly everything that has been written on the subject of titles for
+novels and short-stories applies quite as much to titles for "regular"
+plays and the photodrama. No photoplaywright who is earnest in his
+desire to turn out only the best and most original work should neglect
+to read thoroughly the chapter on "The Title" in each available book
+in the list of works on the writing of the short-story in Appendix A,
+at the end of this work. Do not be satisfied with what has been
+written specially for writers of the photoplay; go deeper; study what
+has been written for fiction writers and dramatists, and so equip
+yourself thoroughly. We should like to write at the beginning and end
+of every chapter of this book this reminder: Only those who are
+thoroughly equipped will be able to remain in the ranks of
+photoplaywrights when once the various manufacturers have drawn out
+enough competent writers to keep them supplied with scripts. There
+will always be room for the competent writer, but a competent writer
+he must be. And as one element in competency this matter of the title
+is important, vitally important, when it comes to selling your script.
+
+
+_2. General Functions of the Title_
+
+"The title has for its main function the advertising of the story to
+the public."[8] Is not this, even if there were no other, a sufficient
+reason for making your title as attractive, interesting and
+appropriate as you possibly can? True, there are thousands of
+picture-play patrons who go to their favorite theatre night after
+night, prepared to see anything that may be shown for their
+entertainment. But there are also thousands who are _not_ regular
+attendants. Many go only when attracted by the title of a picture
+based on some well-known book, poem, or play. A great many more are
+guided in their selection of moving-picture entertainment by the
+attractiveness of the titles displayed on the posters and banners
+announcing the regular daily programs. As a means of attracting all
+such, the advertising value of the title is important.
+
+[Footnote 8: Evelyn May Albright, _The Short Story_.]
+
+"A good title," Barrett has said[9] "is apt [appropriate, fitting],
+specific [concerning itself with, and narrowed down to, something
+individual enough to grip the attention], attractive [interesting and
+calculated to inspire attention], new [fresh and unhackneyed], and
+short." The bracketed comments, of course, are ours.
+
+[Footnote 9: Charles Raymond Barrett, _Short Story Writing_.]
+
+
+_3. Titles to Avoid_
+
+Judging from the titles of many dozens of scripts that the writers
+have seen slipped into the "stamped addressed envelope enclosed" and
+sent back to amateur photoplaywrights, one of the greatest mistakes
+that the young writer makes in his choice of titles is in making them
+commonplace and uninteresting. When an editor takes out a script and
+reads the title, "The Sad Story of Ethel Hardy," would he be
+altogether to blame if he _did_ put the script back into the return
+envelope utterly unread, as so many editors are accused of doing yet
+really do not do? To anyone with a sense of humor, there is more cause
+for merriment in the titles that adorn the different stories that a
+photoplay editor reads in the course of a day than is to be found in a
+humorous magazine. Yet it is as easy for some writers to select a
+good, attractive title for their stories as it is difficult for
+others.
+
+Do not choose a title that will "give away" your plot. The title
+should aid in sustaining interest, not dull the spectator's attention
+by telling "how it all ends." To quote Mr. Harry Cowell, writing in
+_The Magazine Maker_: "A title is a means to an end. The end of a
+story should justify the title. If the title gives the story away, the
+writer may have to give it away, too, or sell it for a song, which is
+bad business." Let the title suggest the theme of the story, by all
+means; but keep your climax, your "big" scene, safely under cover
+until the moment comes to "spring it" upon the spectators and leave
+them gasping, as it were, at the very unexpectedness of it. Avoid
+titles beginning with "How" or "Why," for they are prone to lead in
+this direction. A good exception is the well-known play, "Why Smith
+Left Home."
+
+If you use a quotation or a motto for a title, be sure it is not
+overworked. Variations of "The Way of the Transgressor," "And a
+Little Child Shall Lead Them," "Thou Shalt Not Kill," and "Honesty Is
+the Best Policy" are moss-covered.
+
+Avoid baldly alliterative titles, such as "The Deepening of
+Desolation," "Elizabeth's Elopement," and "Tom Truxton's Trust." Had
+not the three elements mentioned in the title, "Sun, Sand and
+Solitude," practically made the story possible, it would never have
+been used; even so, it is really too alliterative. Usually, the
+over-use of alliteration is artificial and suggests a strained effort
+to be original.
+
+For more than one reason, names, as titles for photoplays, are not
+very desirable, especially for original stories. To entitle a
+photoplay "Andrew Jackson," or "Jane Shore," if the plot is chiefly
+concerned with either of those two personages, is, of course, the
+proper thing; but the class of historical stories indicated by these
+or similar titles is usually turned out by the film company's own
+staff of writers. Once in a while, however, it happens that an
+original story of modern life is written around one character who so
+completely dominates the action that the name constitutes the very
+best title that could be given to it. Two good examples of stories
+having names as titles are "Mickey," in which Mabel Normand played the
+title role, and "Innocent" (the name of the heroine), produced by
+Pathe and featuring Fannie Ward.
+
+One-word titles are good only when they are especially apt. Such
+titles as "Jealousy," "Retribution," "Chains," "Rivals" and
+"Memories" have been worn threadbare.
+
+"Eschew titles that are gloomy, as 'The Sorrow of an Old Convict,'
+Loti; or old style, 'Christian Gellert's Last Christmas,' Auerbach; or
+trite, 'The Convict's Return,' Harben; or newspapery, 'Rescued by a
+Child;' or highly fantastic, 'The Egyptian Fire Eater,' Baumbach; or
+anecdotal, 'A Fishing Trip;' or sentimental, 'Hope,' Bremer; or
+repellent, 'A Memorable Murder,' Thaxter."[10]
+
+[Footnote 10: J. Berg Esenwein, _Writing the Short-Story_.]
+
+"The American editor, like the heiress, is willing, anxious, to pay
+big money for a genuine title; only she is on the lookout for an old
+one, he for a new," says Mr. Harry Cowell, in _The Magazine Maker_.
+And though he speaks of titles for fiction stories, what he says
+exactly fits when applied to photoplay writing. Again, Mr. Cowell says
+that "the best of titles, once used, is bad"--for re-use, of course.
+
+Mr. Epes Winthrop Sargent remarks: "There are dozens of instances of
+title-duplication to be noted in the past year, some of the titles
+being used more than twice. A matter of greater moment is to avoid
+duplication of plot." It is of still greater moment to avoid both.
+Because he discovered that the Essanay Company was about to release a
+picture called "Her Adopted Father," a certain writer changed the
+title of one of his stories from "His Adopted Mother" to "The Bliss of
+Ignorance." This avoided, not a duplication, but a too great
+similarity in titles; at the same time the change was an improvement,
+when one considers the theme of the story.
+
+As a photoplay author, you should subscribe for one of the
+trade-papers, if for no other reason than to keep posted on the titles
+of the various subjects released by the different manufacturers. In
+this way you will have a much better chance of avoiding the repetition
+of titles. It goes without saying that originality in a title is only
+less desirable than originality in a plot; yet every now and then some
+manufacturer will release a picture with a title similar to, or even
+quite the same as, one already produced by some other company. For
+example, on July 15th, some years ago, Lubin released a picture called
+"Honor Thy Father." Four days later, on the 19th, Vitagraph put out a
+picture with the same title. Yet this was the merest coincidence. On
+August 17th of the same year Reliance released "A Man Among Men,"
+while Selig's "A Man Among Men" was released November 18th. The plots
+were totally different, and the Selig story was written and produced
+in the plant before any announcement of the Reliance picture was made.
+Again, on January 8, of the next year, Selig released "The Man Who
+Might Have Been." Twelve days later, Edison put on the market "The Man
+_He_ Might Have Been," by James Oppenheim.
+
+The exhibitor is the one who suffers as a result of these similarities
+in titles; many people see the poster and imagine they have seen the
+picture before, not noticing the difference in the make of film, and
+so go elsewhere to see some show that is entirely fresh to them.
+Therefore keep posted, as fully as possible, as to what the
+manufacturers are putting out.
+
+Of course this matter of title-duplication has a bearing, though a
+remote one, on titles that are similar yet not identical, as when
+Artcraft releases "Wolves of the Rail" (with William S. Hart) and
+Triangle puts out "Wolves of the Border" (with Roy Stewart). Perhaps
+there is no valid objection to such similarity, which can be called
+imitation only when the themes are more or less alike, but it actually
+seems to have been the policy of many companies to follow the line of
+least resistance when selecting titles for their pictures, using a
+title, provided it is good in itself, and appropriate to the picture
+under consideration, regardless of whether or not it is already
+familiar to the public as the title of another photoplay, fiction
+story, or legitimate drama. Needless to say, this has led to a great
+deal of confusion--and, in one or two cases, to law suits.
+
+Bear in mind that the titles of already published fiction and already
+produced stage plays are not the lawful prey of the photoplaywright
+merely because he is working in a different literary field. More than
+one librarian has told us of the confusion caused by reason of Anna
+Katharine Green's title, "The Woman in the Alcove," having been used
+later by another popular woman novelist. Again, such a unique and
+thoroughly distinctive title as Gouverneur Morris's "It" has been used
+for a very different type of short-story by another writer.
+Occasionally, we will admit, this happens by the merest
+chance--although not when a certain motion picture concern puts out a
+picture showing life in an American factory town and bearing Kipling's
+well-known title "The Light That Failed." Your literary conscience
+must dictate what you should do--willing as we are to admit that there
+is, very frequently, a great temptation to use the title already
+employed by another writer because of its extreme appropriateness to
+your own story.
+
+It may be said that most photoplay producing companies are led to use
+unoriginal titles because of the poor and inappropriate titles given
+the stories sent in to them by the authors themselves. Your duty,
+then, is to help to keep the producing company from "going wrong" in
+this respect by supplying them with the very best and most original
+title you can devise for every story of yours which you are fortunate
+enough to sell.
+
+
+_4. Where to Look for Titles_
+
+Good titles are everywhere--if you know how to find them. The Bible,
+Shakespeare, all the poets, books and plays that you read, newspapers,
+even advertisements on billboards and in street cars, all contain
+either suggestions for titles or complete titles, waiting only to be
+picked out and used. But be sure that someone else has not forestalled
+you!
+
+Sayings, proverbs, and well-known quotations are a fruitful source of
+titles, as we have already intimated. But sometimes the real
+significance and value of such a title are not apparent to a great
+many of the spectators until they have witnessed the climax of the
+picture. This arises from their ignorance of literature and is, of
+course, their loss. Many good and extremely appropriate titles of this
+character are taken from the Psalms, from Shakespeare, and other
+poets. Frequently these quotations, used as titles, are so well known,
+and their meanings so apparent, that almost every one of the
+spectators will at once understand them, and catch at least the theme
+or general drift of the story from the title. Sometimes, again, the
+real significance of a title is best brought out by repeating it, or
+even the complete quotation from which it is taken, in the form of a
+leader at the point in the action where its significance cannot fail
+to be impressed upon the spectators. For example, a certain Selig
+release was entitled "Through Another Man's Eyes." Before the next to
+the last scene, which showed the ne'er-do-well lover peering in at the
+window, while his former friend bends over to kiss his wife--who might
+have been the wife of the wayward young man, had he been made of
+different stuff--the leader was introduced:
+
+     "How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through
+     another man's eyes!"
+
+     --SHAKESPEARE, _As You Like It_.
+
+
+5. _The Time to Choose a Title_
+
+Notwithstanding that the title is the first in position on the
+writer's script, as well as on the film as exhibited, it is frequently
+the last thing decided upon. A writer may have his theme well in hand,
+know every motive of every character, have settled to almost the
+minutest detail just how his scenes are going to work out as they
+unfold his story, yet, when he begins his first draft of the script,
+he may not have the slightest idea of what title he will eventually
+give it.
+
+On the other hand, he may create a story _from_ the title. Having hit
+upon an expression that suggests a story by starting a train of
+thought, he may find that it is directly responsible for the way in
+which he builds his plot; its very words suggest the nature of the
+story, and supply at least a suggestion of how it can be
+developed--they hint at a possible plot, suggest the setting, and
+show, almost as one might guess the theme of a novel by glancing for a
+moment at one of the illustrations, what the probable outcome of the
+story will be. Hence the expression becomes a natural title for the
+photoplay.
+
+As an example of the foregoing, in "The Fiction Factory," by "John
+Milton Edwards," the author says that "the sun, sand and solitude of
+the country God forgot" did, or caused, or made something--just what
+does not now matter. The point is that those ten words supplied one of
+the present authors with not only titles for two of his photoplays,
+but with the plot-germ for the plays themselves. Both are stories of
+Arizona: "Sun, Sand and Solitude," and "In the Country God Forgot."
+
+
+_6. Choosing the Title Last_
+
+But you may decide to leave the naming of the story until after you
+have made the rough draft of both synopsis and scenario. Your story is
+told; you know the motives that have prompted your different
+characters to do what they have done; you know the scene; and you
+understand the theme, or _motif_--as the word would be used in
+music--which underlies the whole action. The question arises: To what
+do you wish to have your title call _particular_ attention? If a
+woman, or a girl, has the leading part, and it is what she does in
+your play that really makes the story, it would be best to feature the
+girl and her deed of cleverness or daring in your title, as in "The
+Ranch Girl's Heroism," "A Daughter's Diplomacy," or "A Wife of the
+Hills." Or you may attach most importance to the locale of your story,
+the background against which the rest of your picture is painted, and
+call it, for instance, "A Tragedy of the Desert," "In the North
+Woods," "A Tale of Old Tahiti," or one of the titles of Arizona
+stories, just cited. Again, the interest in your story may be equally
+divided between two, or among three, people, as in "The Triangle,"
+"The Girl and the Inventor," and "The Cobbler and the Financier." Note
+that every title here given is the actual title of a picture play
+which has already been released. Bear in mind, too, that many
+photoplays are released bearing poor, commonplace, and inappropriate
+titles, and the foregoing are not so much named as models as for the
+purpose of illustrating the specific point now being discussed--that
+the _feature idea_ may often direct your choice after the story is
+worked out.
+
+A great many comedies have titles which state a fact, or specifically
+make an announcement concerning what happens in the photoplay, as
+"Arabella Loves Her Master," or "Billy Becomes Mentally Deranged."
+Photoplays with such titles are, as a rule, the product of the
+European makers. Once in a while a dramatic picture will be given such
+a title, as "Tommy Saves His Little Sister"--a picture made in
+France--and "Annie Crawls Upstairs," the last a beautiful and touching
+picture by the well-known writer of magazine stories and photoplays,
+James Oppenheim, produced by the Edison Company. Again, there are more
+general titles exploiting the theme of the story, as "The Ways of
+Destiny," "The God Within," and "Intolerance." There are also
+symbolical titles, which have, naturally, a double meaning, playing
+upon an incident in the plot, as "A Pearl of Greater Price," and
+"Written in the Sand."
+
+
+_7. The Editor and the Title_
+
+Some successful writers have expressed dissatisfaction when editors
+have ventured to change the titles of their scripts after having
+accepted and paid for them. Doubtless some of these objections have
+been not without reason. Many editors and directors have, in the past,
+taken entirely too much upon themselves, in this and other respects
+taking liberties with the scripts received which, if known to the head
+of the firm, would have led to their being at least reprimanded. But
+in such studios, the editors, and especially the directors, worked for
+days at a time without having once come in contact with the head of
+the firm; as a result, they all did pretty much as they liked. During
+the last few months, however, changes have been made in every studio
+in the country, and at the present time the scripts that writers send
+in are not only handled much more carefully, but, if the title of a
+story is changed in the studio, there is usually a very good reason
+for so doing.
+
+Let us suppose, for example, that a certain company (such as, at this
+writing, Goldwyn) is featuring women stars only. A writer sends in an
+unusually good script entitled "Not Like Other Girls"--which, by the
+way, is a well-known book-title. At about the time that his script is
+received at the Goldwyn scenario department, the company decides to
+feature, in addition to its women, a certain male star. This writer's
+story, while one with a "woman lead," is also one whose plot is
+capable of being worked over and slightly altered so as to provide a
+good vehicle for the leading man who has just been engaged. On the
+strength of this fact, the company buys the author's story without
+even informing him of their intention to make alterations in it--or
+they may, of course, tell him of the contemplated alterations and
+request his help in recasting the story. Not only is the action
+changed in different ways, but the title is sure to be altered to make
+it appropriate for a male leading character--and all quite
+justifiably.
+
+In this condition of affairs, by no means infrequent, the
+photoplaywright may find a strong reason for being familiar with the
+people composing a certain company, for the actual structure of the
+play as well as the title will influence its acceptance in some
+instances. It is well to ask: Are men or women featured in their
+pictures; or do they put out stories with a male and a female "lead"
+of equal strength? Your story should be good enough to make it
+acceptable to any editor; yet, if you plan to send it first to a firm
+that features a woman in most of its pictures, as you have the
+opportunity of knowing if you study the pictures you see on the screen
+and read the trade-papers, do not write a story with a strong male
+"lead," and do not give it a title that draws attention to the fact
+that the principal character is a man.
+
+Remember, once again, that your title is the advertisement that draws
+the public into the theatre. The title is to the public what the title
+combined with the synopsis is to the editor--the all-important
+introduction to what is to follow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE SYNOPSIS OF THE PLOT
+
+
+The synopsis is a brief--a clear, orderly outline--of the plot of your
+story. However, before considering the preparation of the synopsis,
+one important element must be considered:
+
+
+_1. What Constitutes a Plot_[11]
+
+_A fictional or a dramatic plot is the working plan by which the story
+is made to lead up to the crisis (or complication, or cross-roads of
+choice), and then swiftly down to the outcome (or unfolding of the
+mystery, or untying of the knot, or result of the choice)._
+
+[Footnote 11: The student is advised to read _The Plot of the Short
+Story_, Henry Albert Phillips; and the chapters on plot in the
+following treatises: _The Short Story_, Evelyn May Albright; _The
+Contemporary Short Story_, Harry T. Baker; _A Handbook on Story
+Writing_, Blanche Colton Williams; _Short Stories in the Making_,
+Robert Wilson Neal; _The Art of Story Writing_, Esenwein and Chambers;
+and _Writing the Short-Story_, J. Berg Esenwein.]
+
+There can be no real plot without a complication whose explanation is
+worked out as the story draws to its close. A mere chain of happenings
+which do not involve some change or threatened change in the
+character, the welfare, the destinies of the leading "people," would
+not form a plot. Jack goes to college, studies hard, makes the
+football team, enjoys the companionship of his classmates, indulges in
+a few pranks, and returns home--there is no plot here, though there
+is plenty of plot _material_. But send Jack to college, and have him
+there find an old enemy, and at once a struggle begins. This gives us
+a complication, a "mix-up," a crisis; and the working out of that
+struggle constitutes the plot.
+
+So all dramatic and all fictional plots give the idea of a struggle,
+more or less definitely set forth. The struggle need not be bodily; it
+may take place mentally between two people--even between the forces of
+good and evil in the soul of an individual. The _importance_ of the
+struggle, the _clearness_ with which it is shown to the spectator, and
+the sympathetic or even the horrified _fascination_ which it arouses
+in him, have all to do with its effectiveness as a plot--note the
+three italicized words.
+
+
+_2. Elements of Plot_
+
+Dividing the subject roughly, in this brief discussion, three
+important elements of plot deserve consideration:
+
+_(a) The preliminaries_ must be natural, interesting, fresh, and
+vivid. That is, they must not seem manufactured. It is all well enough
+to say that Jack has made an enemy at College, but _how_ did the
+enmity arise? The young men will not become opponents merely to suit
+the photoplaywright. You must think out some natural, interesting,
+fresh, and vivid cause for the antagonism. Such a logical basis for
+action is called _motivation_. And so with all the preliminaries on
+which your plot is based--they must motivate what follows. Remember
+that forces or persons outside the two characters may lead them to
+quarrel. Swiftly but carefully lay your foundations (mostly out of
+sight, in the manner of a good builder) so that your building may be
+solid and steady--so that your story may not fall because the
+groundwork of the plot does not appeal to the spectator as being
+_natural, convincing, interesting, fresh, and vivid_; these words bear
+reiteration.
+
+_(b) The complication_, or struggle, including all its immediately
+surrounding events, must be (usually) surprising, of deep concern to
+the chief character, and arouse the anxiety of the spectator as to how
+the hero will overcome the obstacles. Jack discovers that the girl he
+has just learned to love is the well-loved sister of his college
+enemy. How will this complication work out? An interesting series of
+movements and counter-movements immediately becomes possible, and any
+number of amusing or pathetic circumstances may arise to bring about
+the denouement--which simply means the untying of the knot.
+
+The struggle in a plot may be either comical or tragic. Mr. Botts
+ludicrously fights against a black-hand enemy--who proves to be his
+mischievous small son. Plump and fussy Mrs. Jellifer lays deep but
+always transparent plans to outwit her daughter's suitor and is
+finally entrapped into so laughable a situation that she yields
+gracefully in the end.
+
+And so on indefinitely. Hamlet wars against his hesitating nature.
+Macbeth struggles with his conscience that reincarnates the murdered
+Banquo. Sentimental Tommy fights his own play-actor character. Tito
+Melema goes down beneath the weight of his accumulated insincerities.
+Sometimes light shines in the end, sometimes the hero wins only to
+die. To be sure, these struggles suggest merely a single idea, whereas
+plots often become very elaborate and contain even sub-plots,
+counter-plots, and added complications of all sorts. But the basis is
+the same, and always in some form _struggle_ pervades the drama;
+always this struggle ranges the subordinate characters for or against
+protagonist and antagonist, and the outcome is vitally part and
+substance of all that goes before--the end was sown when the seeds of
+the beginning were planted. This touches upon the third element:
+
+_(c) The Denouement_, or disclosure of the plot just before its close,
+is one of its most vital parts.
+
+"Novelty and interest in the situations throughout the story, with an
+_increasing_ interest in the denouement, are the essential demands of
+a plot."[12]
+
+[Footnote 12: Evelyn May Albright, _The Short Story_.]
+
+It goes without saying that you must interest your audience, but you
+must also satisfy them--gratify the curiosity you have earlier
+aroused. It is all very well to write an "absorbing" story, in which
+the excitement and expectation are sustained up to the very last
+scene, but be sure that the theme is essentially such that _in_ the
+last scenes, if not before, your action will unravel the knot that has
+become so tantalizingly tangled as the play proceeded. No matter how
+promising a theme may be in other respects, it is foredoomed to
+failure if from it comes a plot of which the spectator will say as he
+goes out, "It was a pretty picture--but I couldn't understand the
+ending."
+
+Another thing: If it is important that, in every case, the spectators
+must be "shown" what happens in the working out of a plot, it is
+equally important that they be shown _why_ it happens. This also has
+to do with sound and comprehensible motivation. "It is not so much a
+case of 'show me,' with the average American, as a common recognition
+that there must be a reason for the existence of everything created.
+He is inclined to give every play a fair show, will sit patiently
+through a lot of straining for effect, if there is a _raison d'etre_
+in the summing up, but his mode of thought, and it belongs to the
+constitution of the race, is that of getting at some truth by
+venturesome experiment or logical demonstration."[13]
+
+[Footnote 13: Louis Reeves Harrison, in _The Moving Picture World_.]
+
+Bear that truth in mind, no matter what you write of, and never start
+anything that you can't finish--which is simply one way of saying, do
+not start to write a story _at all_ until you have every scene,
+situation, and incident, so thoroughly planned, motivated and
+developed in your mind that when you come to write it out in action in
+the scenario you cannot help making the audience understand the plot.
+Never attempt to introduce even a single situation without a logical
+cause; be sure that "there's a reason."
+
+"Break away from the old lines," advises Mr. Nehls, of the American
+Company. "Try to write scenarios that will hold the interest with a
+not too obvious ending, with sudden, unexpected changes in the trend
+of the story."
+
+If the story contains a mystery, do not allow the end to be guessed
+too soon. Interest thrives on suspense and on expectation. The
+surprising thing, yet the natural ending, swiftly brought about, marks
+the climax of a good photoplay plot. Many a promising photoplay script
+has failed because it did not make good its prophecy. The plot opened
+well, but "petered out"--the complication was a good one, but the
+unfolding of the mystery, the result of the struggle, the aftermath of
+the choice, were disappointing.
+
+And one final word in this connection: The _photoplay public loves a
+"happy ending"--unless it must be forced_.
+
+
+_3. The Study of Plot-Structure_
+
+A careful study of fictional and dramatic plot will well repay the
+photoplaywright. But little more can be said here on the technique of
+plot, though it deserves a treatise in itself; but much will be gained
+if these few words are taken seriously, and no stories are submitted
+except those revolving about ORIGINAL, CLEAR-CUT, PLAUSIBLE
+SITUATIONS SHOWING THE LIVES OF HUMAN BEINGS IN THEIR HOUR OF CRISIS,
+AND WORKING OUT THE AFTER-RESULTS OF THAT CRISIS WITH LIVELY, DRAMATIC
+HUMAN INTEREST.
+
+This advice applies even to humor, for humor takes things which are
+ordinarily serious and by introducing the incongruous makes them
+laughable. It is the sudden interruption of smooth going, the
+unexpected shifting of the factors in the problem, the new and
+surprising condition of affairs, the swift disappointment--it is any
+of these in countless variety that makes plot possible.
+
+Learn to invent plots. Invent them wholesale--by day, by night. Turn
+the facts of everyday life into plots. Draw them from jests, from
+tragedies, from newspapers, from books, from your own heart--and don't
+omit the heart, whatever else you do omit. At first, invent merely
+complications; later work out the situation entire. Thus you will
+cultivate an inventive attitude and at least _some_ good plots are
+sure to result.
+
+
+_4. Preparation of the Synopsis_
+
+The synopsis of the plot is the first part of the script to be read by
+the editor, for from it he decides whether the whole script is worth
+reading further. For this reason, even were there no other, the
+importance of the synopsis should need no argument. Besides, many
+companies now are willing to consider "synopsis only."
+
+The _final_ preparation of the synopsis should be the last stroke in
+the completion of the script. We emphasize "final" because, as has
+been briefly pointed out in a previous chapter, the writer should at
+the very outstart draft a rough, or working, synopsis, to be used as
+a guide while working out the various scenes in his scenario.
+
+The reasons for reserving the synopsis for improving and polishing at
+the very end of the writing may easily be understood. Suppose an
+author were to write the complete synopsis of his story first, and
+then in writing his scenario follow that synopsis rigidly, adding no
+scene not indicated in it, introducing no character that it does not
+mention, and otherwise being bound by his earlier work. He might
+indeed produce a good scenario, but would it be quite as good as it
+might have been had he allowed himself a freer rein in working it out?
+Might there not have been a scene or two added that would have aided
+materially in making every little detail of his plot clear to the
+spectators?
+
+Again, a writer will frequently find, when working out his scenario,
+that he can improve his story by transposing some of the scenes as
+originally planned. In fact, there are a dozen ways in which the story
+may be altered for the better while in course of construction. Why,
+then, should the author hamper himself by obstinately adhering to his
+original plan or synopsis of it? In photoplay writing an author should
+not promise himself never to change his mind.
+
+An experience of a certain writer will serve to illustrate the
+impracticability of writing the final form of the synopsis first. A
+few years ago, when all editors were asking for the complete script,
+and when most companies were insisting upon a synopsis of
+approximately two hundred and fifty words, the editor of a company
+for which he writes suggested that, instead of preparing the complete
+script before submitting it, the author should merely write out his
+synopsis in the usual way and send that in. If the synopsis was
+satisfactory, his being told to go ahead and finish the script would
+mean that the story was as good as purchased. Appreciating this
+kindness, three synopses were submitted by the writer, and two of them
+accepted; the third was for certain reasons unavailable. It was
+necessary, then, to write out and send in the scenarios for the two
+satisfactory synopses, and the author started in. Notwithstanding that
+the firm in question places no restriction on the number of words in
+the synopsis of scripts submitted to them, and that this author, for
+that reason, seldom sent in, even in those days, a synopsis of less
+than a thousand words, giving the theme and details of the plot, he
+found that in working out the scenarios of both stories the original
+plots could be improved, strengthened, given a more decided "punch,"
+by making some changes. In one, he added a character and transposed
+several scenes, thereby strengthening the whole plot. In the other,
+elimination of two scenes of minor importance made it possible for the
+director to give more footage to a big scene. These changes being made
+in the scenarios, the original synopses could not be used. It was
+therefore necessary to write two new ones which corresponded with the
+scenarios that went with them. Thus the original synopses of the two
+accepted stories really amounted to nothing more than working, or
+first-draft, synopses.
+
+
+5. _Length of the Synopsis_
+
+How many words should be allowed for the writing of a synopsis still
+remains a matter of opinion. Almost every writer wishes that he could
+use, within reason, an unlimited number. The acceptance or rejection
+of the script depends so almost entirely upon the interest the editor
+takes in the synopsis, that it unjustly hampers a writer to be limited
+in the number of words he may use. This is peculiarly true if the plot
+should happen to be one that requires the explanation of several
+minor, yet important, details of the story. And even though you are
+sending to a company that asks for the complete script, you must bear
+in mind that some editors base their decisions wholly upon what they
+get from the synopsis.
+
+On the other hand, more scripts suffer from having the synopses
+loosely and wordily written than from being over-compressed. The young
+writer especially cannot be too careful in drilling himself in the art
+of clear-cut, concise, yet effective expression. To be able to tell a
+story in outline, using few but vivid words, is an art worth
+cultivating.
+
+However, now that the market has expanded from one to five, and even
+more, reels, the limit of words is not so closely drawn. Indeed,
+today, whether the studio is one that asks for the complete script or
+insists upon examining the synopsis only, you may almost feel safe in
+sending in a synopsis containing _just as many words as are really
+needed_--which means, simply, that the editor's first consideration is
+to be able to "get" your whole story from one reading of your
+synopsis, whatever its length. It _should_ be concise; it _must_ be
+clear and readily understandable. A busy editor has no time to waste
+in re-reading certain paragraphs or even sentences the meaning of
+which is obscure. One of the first things to remember is that certain
+companies send out the call for "synopsis only" because they prefer to
+have their staff writers do the continuity of scenes (write the
+scenario), instead of accepting the scenario prepared by the author
+and upon occasion, altering it in the studio to suit their special
+requirements. Why so many concerns prefer to do this is easily
+understood. Instead of cutting up the originally submitted scenario
+and substituting different settings or locations, and perhaps, even,
+different large and difficult-to-obtain "props," they simply provide
+the staff writer with the synopsis of the story purchased from you,
+and tell him to go ahead and prepare the continuity, knowing as he
+does, and keeping in mind while at work, to just what approximate
+expense the company is prepared to go, just what sets are available or
+can be built, what necessary locations can be reached within a
+reasonable time, and what players--especially if they must be
+distinctive types--are in the company or may be readily engaged.
+These, of course, are matters over which the outside writer can have
+no control; if he is selling to a concern that demands the synopsis
+only, he must make up for what he does not know about the inside
+workings of the studio by giving the editor and (especially) the staff
+writer _every needed detail_ of his plot. Only by so doing can he
+feel sure of eventually seeing the story on the screen in the form of
+an artistic and satisfactory working out of his original idea.
+
+Some companies that request the synopsis only also like the writer to
+submit two synopses. The first, for the special benefit of the editor,
+and _shorter_ than the two-hundred-and-fifty-word synopsis of a few
+years ago, is intended to show the editor or his reader almost at a
+glance if the story is what that particular company could use at all.
+The second synopsis, of course, is the longer and more detailed one
+from which both he and the staff man can get _all_ the necessary
+details if your story is purchased. By reading the market departments
+of such magazines as _The Writer's Monthly_, and the various trade
+journals, you can keep posted as to which concerns like this double
+synopsis. For your own good, always observe the rule if the company
+lays it down, and remember that it is an easy matter to make a brief
+synopsis from the longer one already prepared.
+
+Again, while it is also necessary to observe strictly the rule of
+sending the "synopsis only" to companies that demand it, one of the
+present writers has found that many firms welcome the author's
+continuity, _after the story has been purchased on the strength of its
+synopsis_, for the sake of the finer details of action and the
+technical and mechanical suggestions contained in it, and even though
+they use it merely as an additional aid to the staff writer in
+preparing _his_ continuity. Such a company, of course, merely gives
+the writer a courteous "thank you" for his continuity, as contrasted
+with those that pay a certain amount for the synopsis and, usually,
+double that amount if the scenario also is _called for_; but the
+earnest writer has the satisfaction of knowing that, with the
+additional details supplied in the scenario, or continuity, the staff
+writer stands an even better chance of perfectly preparing the blue
+print, as it were, of the story from which the director will work
+while building the photoplay.
+
+These things being so, this writer works along the following lines:
+From a rough draft, or working synopsis, he prepares the complete
+scenario, just as he would do for a company that was having a story
+done to order. To this, in any case, must be attached a synopsis. He
+therefore writes a very complete, detailed synopsis, preparing it in
+the manner which will presently be described. In addition, it is a
+very simple matter to write a synopsis of from one hundred and fifty
+to two hundred and fifty words, according to the story, and have it
+ready in case he finds it advisable to submit to a "two synopses
+requested" concern.
+
+Now, whether the company is or is not one of those that will accept
+the author's own continuity as an additional guide for the staff
+writer, if it is a concern that asks for a complete, detailed
+synopsis, this writer sends in what he has more than once humorously
+termed a "camouflaged continuity." He does not, so to speak,
+send in the "plot of action"--the full continuity--with the
+technical directions and scene numbers left out, but a genuine,
+specially-written synopsis, in proper narrative form. However, it is
+written _directly from_ his own complete, detailed continuity, and
+the action, though in narrative form, is made to run along exactly as
+it does in the continuity. This, it may be said, is almost the same
+process which was followed by writers a few years ago, when complete
+scripts were first in demand, and which we advocate earlier in the
+present chapter. But you must bear in mind that the method here
+outlined is used _in connection with_ the writing of a synopsis of
+from three thousand to six thousand words, or even more, if really
+necessary, as contrasted with the two-hundred-and-fifty-word synopsis
+generally demanded a few years ago. Furthermore, the synopsis is
+written in such a way that anyone could separate this writer's
+sentences and paragraphs by drawing a lead pencil between the lines,
+thus dividing it into almost the exact number of scenes, with the same
+continuity of action as shown in the scenario. The minor details of
+action are omitted, of course, and there are little side remarks
+written in, in connection with characterization, etc., which would be
+out of place in the scenario.
+
+As for its mechanical preparation, this synopsis is double spaced,
+with a left-hand margin of one and one-half inches. As the story runs
+on, many statements are made which give the staff writer an
+opportunity to use a leader (sub-title) at that point if he wishes to;
+but if in his own scenario the writer whose practice we are quoting
+has a number of leaders (frequently ordinary statement, or
+before-the-scene, sub-titles, but usually cut-in, or dialogue,
+leaders) which he really feels are of special importance, and worded
+just right, they go into the synopsis _written in red_, and started
+in the left margin at "0," with double space both above and below
+them. In this way they stand out clearly and give the staff writer or
+the sub-title editor (if the firm employs someone to attend to that
+special work), a chance to pick them out quickly and decide whether or
+not he wishes to retain them. Even more important than the matter of
+keeping in the sub-titles after the picture has been produced is that
+of directing the action of the players when putting on the picture, so
+as to work directly up to the leader that fits into the action at a
+certain point. Knowing this fact, the writer gives the director help
+in the way just described; what necessary changes are made after the
+script has been sold is a matter over which no free-lance writer has
+any real control.
+
+At the end of this chapter is reproduced a page from one of this same
+writer's synopses, illustrating just how far he usually goes in giving
+details of the action when writing a complete synopsis, and showing
+how the suggested inserts are separated from the narrative of plot.
+Let us repeat, however, that not all companies that ask for the
+detailed synopsis care to have also the scenario, even as a gift. This
+explains the introduction of little bits of detail and certain
+suggestions which ordinarily would have no place in the synopsis were
+it not that, in order to insure as fully as possible the proper
+interpretation of his story, the writer inserts them in this way for
+the benefit of both editor and--especially--staff writer.
+
+The importance of trying to acquaint yourself with the preferences of
+the different editors as to the length of the synopsis should be
+apparent to any writer--although it is well to remember that editors
+change and studio rules change with them. For a feature-story of five
+reels or more you may have, say, from six to twelve typed pages--the
+length of the synopsis, of course, depending upon the nature of the
+story and the action it contains. You must be especially careful to
+ascertain the preferences of an editor who reads scripts for a star
+such as Douglas Fairbanks, because you know that a story prepared
+especially for his use (although not written to order) may not sell
+elsewhere if his company rejects it. However, regardless of its
+length, the object of the synopsis is to present a clear, interesting
+and comprehensive outline of the story--of what is worked out in
+action in the scenario, if you send one--and to give editor, staff
+writer and director all the help you possibly can without for a moment
+making it appear that you are trying to teach them their business.
+This does not mean that if you know _your_ business you need hesitate
+to send in a scene-plot diagram as your suggestion for a certain
+important set, or supply historical or other needed data, or give your
+own idea of how best a certain effect can be obtained. All
+broad-minded and progressive directors are glad to receive such help.
+But do not attempt such suggestions until you have thoroughly mastered
+the technique of photoplay writing and have also seen on the screen
+many examples of how different effects have been procured in the past.
+It is not out of place to say now what is enlarged upon in a chapter
+to follow: The screen is, after all, the greatest of all schools for
+the would-be professional photoplaywright.
+
+Here are some wise words from Mr. Epes Winthrop Sargent, in _The
+Moving Picture World_:
+
+"The successful seller of synopses first makes his story interesting,
+not through inflated literary style, but through clearness in the
+exploitation of idea. He makes his second point through the fullness
+of the _necessary_ detail. His third point is made through the
+omission of _unnecessary detail_. His last advantage is that he knows
+when to give scenes that are out of the ordinary and leaders that will
+be useful to the continuity writer. He undertakes to sell no more than
+an idea, and, selling an idea, he does not confound it with history
+nor expect the buyer to be a mind reader. That is the great trick in
+synopsis writing. Learn what to put in and what to leave out. Learn to
+tell what the continuity writer needs, and learn to omit the things
+that will suggest themselves to the imagination of any intelligent
+plot-handler."
+
+
+_6. The Form of the Synopsis_
+
+An examination of the scripts of some amateur photoplay authors shows
+that there is a frequent tendency to misunderstand the form in which
+the synopsis should be written. This may be due to the writer's being
+impressed with the necessity for not making his synopsis too long. At
+any rate, the examples we have in mind are written--the story is
+told--exactly as the scenario _should_ be written, only even more
+briefly and without being subdivided into numbered scenes. Thus,
+instead of writing: "Blake conceals himself behind a boulder and, as
+Tom is about to pass him, steps out and orders him to throw up his
+hands. He compels Tom to surrender his revolver and cartridge belt,
+hastening Tom's actions, when he momentarily hesitates, by firing a
+shot close to his head;" the writer may say: "Blake sees Tom
+approaching up path. Hides behind boulder. As Tom is about to pass
+boulder, he is held up by Blake, who makes him strip off gun and
+cartridge belt. Tom too slow in actions, so Blake shoots past his
+head. Tom drops belt and gun on ground, etc." Obviously, the mistake
+consists in not writing the synopsis in narrative form.
+
+It is well to note another point also. Although some manufacturers in
+preparing synopses of their stories for the trade journals write them
+in the past tense, it is always advisable to tell your story in the
+present tense. In the scenario, you _must_ follow this custom, and in
+the synopsis you _should_ do so.
+
+In adding bits of characterization to your synopsis, and particularly
+in pointing out the dramatic incidents of your plot, consider the
+value of suggestive words and phrases. Not _many_ words, but words
+that suggest pictures, call up whole scenes, tell entire stories, are
+needed. And this is particularly true when you are writing to meet the
+"synopsis only" demand. Don't over-adjective your synopsis, but such
+qualifying words as you use should be vivid, clear and precise. One
+specific word outweighs a score of general statements. Consider the
+difference between "horse" and "broncho;" "house" and "bungalow;"
+"woman" and "sour spinster." Be definite.
+
+A careful examination of any well-written synopsis will convince the
+novice that several rewritings are not too many to give to a synopsis
+before deciding that it is _clear, concise, and interesting_. Each of
+these points is well worth considering carefully. Interest, no one can
+teach you; conciseness may be attained only by cutting out needless
+words and _studying_ how to express the utmost in terse language; and
+clearness is surely equally worthy of conscientious effort to master.
+A first-class rhetoric, like Genung's, or Hill's, will be of great
+value in acquiring conciseness and clearness of style, as well as
+other good qualities of expression. One point only is there time to
+dwell upon here: the lack of clearness arising from the careless use
+of personal pronouns. For example, compare the relative clearness in
+these two statements:
+
+"In a moment of excitement, Harley strikes Jim a heavy blow. The whole
+thing dazes him, and he scarcely knows what to do. After a few hours,
+he determines upon revenge and, after taking his brother into his
+confidence, warns him that he will shoot him on sight, etc."
+
+"In a moment of excitement, Harley strikes Jim a heavy blow. The whole
+affair dazes Jim, and he scarcely knows what to do. However, after a
+few hours, he determines upon revenge, and, after taking his brother
+Ted into his confidence, he warns Harley that he will shoot him on
+sight, etc."
+
+In the following 248-word synopsis, we have a model of clearness,
+conciseness, and interesting statement. The same general form, applied
+to a longer synopsis, should satisfy any editor. For the second, or
+short, synopsis, demanded by certain companies, one of about this
+length, and as carefully prepared, would undoubtedly be entirely
+acceptable. Add to the conciseness and clearness of this Vitagraph
+synopsis the suggested inserts, leaders, etc., already described in
+connection with the synopses usually sent out by one of the present
+writers, and you have what comes pretty near to being the ideal form
+when the wishes of the editor, staff writer and director are all
+considered. You will find other synopses in chapters V and XX.
+
+
+A WASTED SACRIFICE
+
+_Produced by the Vitagraph Company_
+
+With all his faults, Jack Martin, an Arizona gambler, has one
+redeeming quality, a deep love for his motherless child. The baby is
+taken sick. Leaving her with Aunt Jane, the Mexican housekeeper, Jack
+goes for Doctor Winton, who is also the sheriff. The child dies.
+Crazed with grief, Jack gets drunk and shoots the town Marshal.
+Leaping astride his horse, he escapes into the desert. Far out on a
+sandy plain, he comes across the dead body of a young Apache squaw,
+who has been bitten by a rattlesnake. By the side of the lifeless form
+he finds a child who has nursed from its mother's breast and imbibed
+the poison.[14] Jack thinks of his own child and his heart goes out to
+the little one. Jack has eluded his pursuers and his horse has
+dropped from exhaustion. He knows that he is free to escape. He
+hesitates, but determines to save the little papoose by doubling back
+on his tracks and meeting the posse, of which the doctor-sheriff is
+the leader. On rounding a curve in the canyon, he comes upon his
+followers, who cover him with their weapons. Holding out the child to
+the doctor, he begs him to do something for it. The sheriff examines
+it and discovers that it is dead. Jack, with tears in his eyes, stands
+ready for his capture, conscious that inasmuch as he did it for one of
+God's little ones, he has not done it in vain.
+
+[Footnote 14: The scientific inaccuracy of this statement need not now
+be considered.]
+
+Mr. Epes Winthrop Sargent has well epitomized some important
+principles in synopsis writing when--in _The Writer's Monthly_ for
+April, 1918--he says that "the good synopsis:
+
+"Starts with a 'punch' fact.
+
+"Tells the story clearly in full detail as to facts, with as few words
+as possible.
+
+"Identifies as fully as possible all the leading characters at their
+first introduction.
+
+"Fully establishes minor personages as they enter the story.
+
+"Gives _all_ of the facts required by the staff writer in the
+construction of a continuity.
+
+"Presents these facts fluently and interestingly, with some suggestion
+of literary charm, but without the use of florid phrase or elaborate
+descriptive writing.
+
+"Presents facts in their logical order, but not necessarily in the
+exact order of their happening.
+
+"Is as brief as is consistent with clearness of statement, but may run
+5,000 words or more IF fewer words will not permit the story
+to be clearly told."
+
+[Illustration: Paint Frame on Which Scenery is Painted]
+
+[Illustration: Checking "Extras" Used in Rex Beach's Photodrama, "The
+Brand." Produced for Goldwyn at its Culver City Studios]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     The Man who Mocked     - 2 -
+
+
+
+Dear Dwight:
+
+What do you say to a trip to Italy? Father
+is very anxious to continue his historical
+researches, especially in Rome and the Campagna.
+We'd be delighted to have you as one of our party.
+Run up to the house tonight and we'll talk it over.
+
+                      As ever,
+                          Muriel.
+
+     Delafield cares nothing for the ruins and historical treasures
+     of the Eternal City, but he is mightily interested in being
+     near Muriel, and he leaves the house prepared to accept this
+     invitation.
+
+          As he comes down the steps of his house to enter his car,
+     an old blind man, led by a little dog on a cord, shuffles
+     along and collides with him. Delafield steps back, pushing the
+     man from him, who, as if fearing a blow, raises his arms to
+     guard against it and then hurries on, while Delafield, sneering
+     as he watches him, steps into his car and drives off.
+
+          At the Trevor's, he is shown into the library, where Muriel
+     and her father are sitting in earnest conversation. They rise to
+     greet him, the professor shaking his hand warmly. When Muriel
+     goes to him, Delafield takes her left hand in his (close-up),
+     and with his right index finger touches the engagement ring
+     on her finger and then points to himself, thus indicating that
+     he already looks upon her as his property, albeit he plainly
+     shows his genuine regard for her. She presently picks up the
+     book to which she and her father have been referring before
+     Delafield's entrance and shows it to him, saying:
+
+"FATHER AND I HAVE BEEN DISCUSSING THE THEORY OF REINCARNATION"
+
+     At which Delafield smiles good-naturedly, but plainly shows that
+     he considers the theory so much rubbish, answering:
+
+"WHILE I'M ALIVE, THAT SORT OF THING DOESN'T INTEREST ME; AND WHEN
+     I'M DEAD, IT WON'T MATTER"
+
+     The professor is plainly disappointed by this speech, but he
+     passes it off with a smile, answering:
+
+"ONE HAS TO DIE, MY DEAR FELLOW, TO FIND OUT THAT IT _DOES_ MATTER"
+
+     The truth of which remark is not apparent to Delafield until
+     some time later. He smiles at the professor's earnestness,
+     which Muriel quite evidently shares, and is about to speak to
+     the girl again when her brother, Jack, enters. He is about
+     twenty-two, clean-cut and jovial, and he greets Delafield
+     heartily, at the same time asking his father:]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE CAST OF CHARACTERS
+
+
+The expression "the cast of characters" may be used in any one of
+three senses: the list of principal characters as it is thrown on the
+screen to serve the purpose of a theatre program; the actual group of
+actors used in the production of the photoplay; and the complete cast
+of characters as made by the writer for his script. Of course it is
+not necessary here to consider each of these three uses of the term,
+but it will be quite easy to avoid confusion if we bear the
+distinctions in mind.
+
+
+_1. Showing the Cast on the Screen_
+
+Introducing the cast of characters as a printed part of the pictured
+drama is a comparatively recent improvement in the art of the
+photoplay. For many years the picture "fans," as we have come to call
+them, were kept in ignorance of the real names of the players who
+entertained them on the screen. Then in Great Britain the exhibitors
+came to realize that the added interest that would come of having the
+various artists known to the public by name would mean an increase in
+the box-office receipts, and they began to give out fictitious names
+for such favorites as Mary Pickford, Florence Turner, and Mary Fuller.
+This opened the eyes of some of the manufacturers to the wisdom of
+giving on the films the names of the players as well as the names of
+the characters represented by them, and the Edison studio, of which
+Mr. Horace G. Plimpton was then manager, was one of the first American
+concerns to give the cast of characters in connection with the
+pictured story. Leaving aside the wishes of the public, it was an
+injustice to the players not to have included the casts sooner, just
+as the names of actors and actresses are given in a "legitimate"
+theatre program.
+
+Following the first showing of the casts on the films, different
+manufacturers began to see the wisdom, as well as the additional
+artistic effect, of showing the name of the author of the photoplay,
+and this practice has gradually grown until, today, it is very seldom
+that the name of the writer is omitted. There are patrons who feel
+that, at the present time, the preliminary announcements on most
+films, especially "features," are rather overdone, inasmuch as they
+usually give the names of the author of the story, the writer of the
+scenario, or continuity, the director, the cameraman, the "art title"
+maker, and the supervising producer. However, most writers and actors
+feel that the manufacturers are quite welcome to go as far as they
+like in this direction, so long as they continue to give the credit
+due to those who write and enact the story.
+
+Undoubtedly, one reason why the manufacturers hesitated about giving
+all this information on the film in the days of the single-reel
+photoplay was that they had the matter of footage to consider. With an
+even thousand feet to a reel, and a reel to a story, no footage could
+be spared for preliminary announcements without crowding the
+story-part of the film. Today, with one-, two-, three-, and a few
+four-reel pictures, and feature productions of from five reels up,
+less attention need be paid to the matter of footage consumed by both
+preliminary statements and the regular leaders and inserts, as further
+pointed out in Chapter XII.
+
+Again, today, one company at least--the Essanay, of Chicago--has
+broken away from the old rule of making pictures run to one, two, or
+more even reels. They decided to let all their photoplays run on until
+the story was logically told (with the aid of the printed inserts) and
+then to end it, regardless of the length to which it had run. Then,
+instead of announcing in the trade-papers that the picture was in so
+many reels, or parts, they simply stated that the screen-time of the
+picture was so many minutes, or an hour and so many minutes. From
+this, the exhibitor may easily reckon the approximate length of the
+picture. The important point in this connection is that it would seem
+that the foolish old custom of making a picture run to an arbitrary
+length, either by padding it out or by cutting it down, regardless of
+all reason and logic, will soon be a thing of the past. The harm done
+to certain productions in the past by forcing them to adhere to a
+certain number of feet--so many even reels--can hardly be estimated.
+Imagine stage plays being written to run so many even hours, instead
+of ending logically when the story is fully and consistently worked
+out!
+
+At any rate, today, and especially in the case of those concerns which
+call for the synopsis only, the free-lance photoplaywright has a much
+better opportunity to centre his attention on turning out a good
+story, without having constantly to keep in mind the matter of how
+many reels of film it will take to tell it--which, of course, is as it
+should be. Thus, as has just been shown, the gradual breaking of the
+restrictions on footage has resulted in proper screen-publicity being
+given to the cast.
+
+
+_2. The Time for Showing the Cast_
+
+The methods adopted by producing companies in presenting the names of
+characters and players on the screen are varied. Indeed, no set rules
+are followed. The producer's whole object in each case seems to be
+simply to present every cast-announcement of this kind in as striking
+and artistic a way as possible. Some companies list the characters at
+the very outset--or all the principal characters, at least--with the
+names of the players. Others open with a statement-leader, which
+gives, so to speak, the "theme" of the story to follow, this leader
+being at once followed by the name of the leading male or female
+character, sometimes with and sometimes without an additional
+descriptive statement. With the particular method followed by the
+producer the author is little concerned. His best plan is simply to
+make out a complete list of the people in his story, following one of
+the forms given later in this chapter. At the present time, nearly
+every big concern employs a sub-title editor whose duty it is to
+eliminate, alter, or add to the writer's own leaders and inserts, and
+this person also "fixes up" to comply with the firm's rule any
+additional wording that may be attached by the author to the names of
+his characters when the cast is made out.
+
+
+_3. The Number of Characters_
+
+The "legitimate" dramatist, especially the untried dramatist, must be
+very careful to use only as many characters in his play as are
+absolutely necessary. Every theatrical manager knows that he is taking
+a chance, and a big chance, when producing the work of a new writer.
+The writer, also knowing this, and realizing that every additional
+character means an addition to the salary list--and therefore to the
+manager's risk--wisely uses no more characters in the unfolding of his
+plot than he can help. Even when an actor "doubles" two parts, he
+expects a proportionately larger salary for so doing.
+
+In the moving picture studios, on the other hand, the players are paid
+by the week, to work, as it were, by the day. The photoplay actor
+plays as many different parts as the director finds it necessary to
+cast him for. If necessary, in a big production, a director can draw
+on any or all of the players making up the stock company, provided he
+does not prevent them from playing the parts in another picture then
+in course of production, for which they have been previously cast. So
+that, so far as salary is concerned, unless certain "types," either
+men or women, are specially engaged for a production, the film
+manufacturer does not need to worry about how many "principals" are
+needed to take part in a picture. He has, of course, to consider the
+salaries of the "extra people," or supernumeraries, when a picture
+calls for their employment. But the principal reason for keeping the
+photoplay cast as small as possible is that the fewer the principal
+characters the more easily understood is the story. In this respect,
+better twenty extras and five principals than twenty principals and
+two extras.
+
+Remember, then, to use as few principal characters as possible in
+developing your plot. This does not mean that you may be prodigal in
+your use of extras; quite the contrary. But, since extras who are
+posing as cowboys, soldiers, guests at a ball, bystanders in a street
+scene, or saloon loungers, are easily distinguished from the
+principals, it is a matter of small importance how many are used so
+long as the scene is full enough to harmonize with the idea. It would
+be silly, of course, actually to specify the number of "travellers and
+bystanders" used in a scene at a railroad station at train time. The
+director will employ as many as he thinks necessary.
+
+
+_4. How the Director Assigns the Cast_
+
+It frequently happens that members of the regular stock company are
+used to fill in in certain scenes, although they may not be cast in
+the picture at all. When, for example, the scene is laid in a
+ballroom, or when boxes and orchestra chairs in a theatre are shown,
+the director uses as many of the regular company as are
+available--knowing that they may be relied upon to sustain the
+necessary action, and feeling sure that they will "dress" the scene
+suitably. Extras are then drawn upon for as many more people as he
+may require.
+
+A distinction must be made between extras who merely fill in or dress
+a scene and those who play a small part, or "bit," in one or more
+scenes. In every studio there are men and women who are known as
+"regular" extras--people who are on hand every morning and who remain
+until they are either told that they can work in a certain picture or
+that they will not be required that day. Practically all of these
+regular extras are experienced actors and actresses, and most of them
+continue to report daily in the hope that, being given a small part to
+play, they may in this way attract the attention of the director and
+eventually be offered positions in the stock company. Many of the best
+known photoplayers in the country today made their start in
+moving-picture work in this way after having forsaken the "legitimate"
+stage.
+
+
+_5. Planning the Cast_
+
+Strictly speaking, it is no longer advisable, nor even possible, to
+plan your cast ahead, when writing photoplays, any more than it would
+be possible to state exactly in advance how many characters you would
+introduce if you were setting out to write a novel. Today more than
+ever before the demand is for good _stories_. Given a good story, a
+competent director will do the rest. He will not hesitate to engage
+for that production just as many people as may be necessary, whether
+they are special "type" players, male or female, or for "straight"
+parts. Your cast, in other words, must inevitably be a result of the
+final working out of your story. The one thing you _can_ do in advance
+is determine whether you are going to write what is simply a good
+story or is a story designed as a vehicle to exploit some particular
+"star."
+
+This latter procedure is always a risky one for the writer to adopt.
+The story planned and worked out to fit the talents of a certain star,
+especially if designed to feature the very unusual work of such a
+player as Douglas Fairbanks, may not sell at all if it fails to sell
+to the one for whom it was planned, and the writer's work goes for
+naught. By far the wisest plan is to write for certain particular
+stars _only under contract_, or at least to write only stories that
+stand a chance of selling elsewhere if rejected by the firm at which
+they were first aimed.
+
+If you _are_ writing "to order" for a certain star, and if you are
+reasonably sure that the supporting players are permanent members of
+that particular company, you may plan your story so as to give the
+director a chance to use all the people at his disposal to the best
+advantage, for today, while character-actors are just as busy as ever,
+it is the actual "type" that is usually cast for a certain part if
+such a man or woman is procurable at all.
+
+As for whether a certain "small" part is played by an "extra" or by a
+regular member of the stock company, you need not worry. The director
+will do his best for every part, however small.
+
+One thing that you should _not_ overlook in making up your list of
+characters, we repeat, is to show the director how he may cast his
+available people to the best advantage. To do this, you should not
+only mention every character, no matter how unimportant, but in the
+case of all those characters who do not actually come under the head
+of principals in that particular picture, you should give the number
+of the scene or scenes in which they appear. This will, in many cases,
+enable the director to use some of his people in more than one
+character by "doubling" two minor roles.
+
+As an example, let us suppose that you have written down your
+principals--the ones who will keep the one part through the whole of
+the action. You can then write:
+
+     Mrs. Brown's maid, in 9 and 11.[15]
+     Trained nurse, in 22.
+     Policeman, in 15.
+     Blind beggar, in 27.
+     Colored porter, in 28.
+
+[Footnote 15: Meaning _scenes_ 9 and 11. Of course, you can only make
+this arrangement _after_ your scenario has been blocked out, scene by
+scene.]
+
+Here are five minor characters, and yet, if the director desired, he
+could use only two people to play all five parts. Mrs. Brown's maid in
+9 and 11 could easily change to a trained nurse for 22. The actor
+playing the policeman in 15 could just as easily make up as a blind
+beggar for 27; and he would then be able to change again and go on as
+a colored porter in 28, the next scene.
+
+A point that many who are not familiar with the inner workings of the
+studios do not realize is that although Scene 10, let us say, is
+"done" on one day, Scene 11 may not be taken until the following day,
+or even a week later. It frequently happens that one set is allowed to
+stand for several days, on account of "re-takes" that have been found
+necessary, or because a director has difficulty in obtaining a certain
+lighting effect. In such cases certain players are required to play
+the same part over and over again, even though between the "re-takes"
+they may "work" for other directors in the same studio.
+
+
+_6. Actual Work on the Cast_
+
+You will probably find that the best and easiest way to prepare your
+cast of characters is to keep a rough list of all the people who take
+part in the action, as you write the scenario. Because, of course,
+although the cast of characters is the second division of the script,
+it should have its final preparation after the scenario has been
+completed, for the same reason that the synopsis is also finally
+prepared when the scenario has been finished.
+
+Keep a sheet of paper beside you as you write your scenario. First put
+down the names of all your _principal_ characters so as to have them
+before your eyes as you write. Then as you work out your scenario,
+scene after scene, set down every character introduced; for example,
+if you use a doctor, who merely pays one visit to a patient appearing
+in only one scene, set down the following on your memorandum sheet:
+
+     Doctor, in 2.
+
+and so on. At the time you write Scene 2 you may think that that _is_
+the only one in which you will use the doctor; later on, perhaps as
+you are giving the action of Scene 16, you may find that you have
+occasion to introduce a doctor again. Unless Scene 16 is supposed to
+be located in another part of the country, the chances are that you
+might just as well bring in the same physician again, and you then
+simply make it
+
+     Doctor, in 2 and 16.
+
+
+_7. Naming the Characters_
+
+Of course it is unnecessary to give a name to _everyone_ appearing in
+a picture. The cast of characters is made up of the names only of
+those whose work in the photoplay materially advances the action in
+some way or another. On the "legitimate" stage any character who has
+even a "line" to say may be said to have a "speaking part." Only these
+are supposed to be in the cast proper. Similarly, in the photoplay no
+one whose work in the picture is not in some way necessary to the
+working out of the plot need be given a name. In the same way that you
+would write "Doctor, in 2 and 16," or "Policeman, in 8," write
+
+     Guests at ball, in 13.
+     Stock brokers and clerks, in 22.
+     Clubmen, in 27.
+
+The following is quoted from Mr. Epes Winthrop Sargent's weekly
+department, "The Photoplaywright," in _The Moving Picture World_. He
+says all that could be said upon a subject that is of the greatest
+importance, no matter on what division of the photoplay script you are
+at work--the necessity for simplifying everything so as to make it
+quickly and easily understood by editor and director alike:
+
+"When you start to write a play decide what you are going to call your
+characters, and adhere to your decision. If you have a character named
+Robert Wilson, do not indiscriminately call him Bob, Robert, and
+Wilson. Decide on one of the three and use that one invariably. If
+your character travels under an alias, being known as Montgomery in
+society, and Jimmy the Rat in the underworld, do not call him
+Montgomery in the society scenes and The Rat when he gets among his
+proper associates. Call him Montgomery straight through, and the first
+time he changes from Jekyll to Hyde tell the audience, in a leader,
+that he is known as the Rat; but in the plot of action hold to
+Montgomery, because you started with that and do not want to confuse
+the director. The editor is going to read in a hurry the first time
+through, and he cannot continually consult the cast to identify your
+constant changes in cognomens.
+
+"Be careful in selecting your names. Do not let them sound too much
+alike, or confusion will arise. Often a story will be sent back that
+might be regarded more carefully were the characters more individually
+named, and perhaps fewer of them named. Too many names are apt to be
+confounded with each other. Names too much alike or not possessed of
+individual sound are apt to be confusing. In either case your story
+is not readily understood on a first reading and never passes to a
+second perusal. Take pains with your literary baptisms."
+
+It seems scarcely necessary to point out that it is both easier and
+better to call the young people by whatever Christian name you decide
+to give them and to refer to their elders by their last name. You can
+say Freeman or Mr. Freeman, when speaking of Jess's father, but do not
+say that Tom and Miss Freeman are discovered by her father making
+love. Simply say Tom and Jess. If Jess's father is a farmer or a
+miner, it may seem more natural to say Freeman, or Jess's father. If
+he is a banker or a stock broker, you may choose to speak of him as
+Mr. Freeman. The most important thing is to make the name, as clearly
+as possible, suggest the age, rank, and general characteristics of the
+person to whom it is given.
+
+A good deal has been written concerning the advisability of using only
+short and simple names for most characters in the photoplay. Others
+have advised photoplay authors to try to discover unhackneyed names
+for their characters. There are, of course, hundreds of short and
+appropriate "first" names for people of different nationalities; the
+trouble, especially with amateur writers, is that such names as Tom,
+Jack, Jim, and Charley, and May, Mary, Grace, Ethel, and Kate, are
+used over and over again, and without any regard to the surname which
+follows them. Simple and common names _are_ desirable, so long as they
+really fit the characters who bear them. John and Tom and Mary and
+Kate are names that will be used over and over again, both in fiction
+and in photoplay. But unusual names are desirable too, provided they
+fit the characters. The work of an amateur writer can almost always be
+told by the names he gives his characters.
+
+In the writing of photoplays, where the author has no description to
+rely on to explain who and what his characters are, there is especial
+need of names that will help to indicate the social status of his
+different characters. In real life, a bank president is as likely to
+be a Casey or a Smith as he is to be a Rutherford or a Pendleton, but
+the chances are that, when given to a great banker, either of the last
+two names would make a greater impression on "popular" spectators.
+Again, certain names instantly make us think of villainy, while others
+as plainly tell us that the owner of the name is an honest man. The
+authors of the "good old" melodramas used exaggerated names that today
+would probably be laughed at. "Jack Manly" and "Desmond Dangerfield"
+would hardly "get by" in modern drama or in present-day picture plays;
+but the idea of appropriateness that was responsible for such names
+being used is what is needed by photoplaywrights who desire to name
+their characters convincingly. Percy certainly does not suggest a
+prizefighter, any more than Miriam portrays a cook.
+
+By all means keep a special notebook in which to jot down new and
+unusual names to fit characters of every nationality and of every
+station in life, _but try to get names that are short and easily
+pronounced_. Very few photoplaywrights adhere to only one line of
+writing. A clever and ambitious writer may "do" a story of city life
+this week, and one with the scenes laid in Mexico the next. You can
+get plenty of names for your "down East" story, but will you be able
+to find eight or ten really appropriate names for your photoplay of
+life in "Little Italy" or the Ghetto? The following methods of
+obtaining suitable names--especially surnames--for characters have
+been found very helpful:
+
+1. If you live in a city, cover the different foreign quarters
+thoroughly and note in your book names of every nationality that
+strike your fancy.
+
+2. If the public library in your town gets French, Italian, or other
+foreign papers (all great city libraries do, of course), go over them
+and get similar lists of foreign names. You can never tell when a
+typical Russian surname, or an Italian Christian name, may be wanted
+for one of your stories. This will prevent your calling a Spaniard
+"Pietro" or an Italian "Pedro."
+
+3. Buy an old or a second-hand city directory. An out-of-date New York
+or Chicago directory contains names enough, of all nationalities, both
+Christian names and surnames, to last you a life-time and will cost
+you little. But directories are not _absolutely_ trustworthy after
+all.
+
+4. When reading novels and short-stories, copy any names that
+particularly strike you. Use only the first or the last name in every
+case, of course, and do the same when selecting names from the
+directory or from signs in the street. You would not name your hero
+Richard Mansfield, nor his uncle John Wanamaker, but you might wish to
+call the uncle Richard Wanamaker and make John Mansfield the hero.
+
+5. Select from regular theatre programs names that please you, but
+transpose the first and last names as recommended above. If you choose
+a French Christian name from one of Henri Bernstein's plays, do not
+take the surname of another character _in the same cast_ to go with
+it. Rather take it from another French play, or from a French story in
+a magazine.
+
+You do not wish to find, when the time does come for your cast of
+characters to be thrown upon the screen, that the director has found
+it necessary to change half of your names. Make them so good and so
+appropriate that there will be absolutely no excuse for altering them.
+
+One thing to be remembered, however, is that the picture spectators of
+today have been gradually educated up to expecting and approving many
+things which the spectators of a few years ago would have looked upon
+as too "highbrow." This is due in no small degree to the many screen
+adaptations of literary classics and fictional successes generally
+which have been made, as well as to the large number of stage plays
+that have been transferred to the screen, for, of course, the authors,
+publishers and dramatic producers have always stipulated that the
+casts be kept as they originally were made out--except that
+occasionally certain characters who in the stage-production of a
+certain play were merely spoken about and described have been, in the
+photoplay form, actually introduced, and thus added to the cast. But
+the point is that there is no longer the frantic striving to keep
+everything as "short and simple as possible" that once existed, and
+this applies to everything in the nature of inserts quite as much as
+to the names used for characters in the picture. Little by little
+"art" in motion picture production is becoming a reality instead of
+being merely a high-sounding word used occasionally by the
+press-agents.
+
+
+_8. Describing the Characters_
+
+Since there is no restriction placed upon the way in which a cast of
+characters is made out, the writer may choose between the simple
+statement-form, when giving the names of his characters, and that in
+which the appearance and dominant traits of the character are set
+forth. You can say:
+
+     Silas Gregory, a miser,
+
+or you can draw a picture of the man himself in the very way you
+describe him, thus:
+
+Silas Gregory, an extremely wealthy and eccentric miser; a bachelor
+and a man who both by his appearance and his nature repels the
+friendship of his fellow men; inclined to practice petty cruelty on
+children and animals; suspicious of and seeming to hate everybody
+except his old body-servant, Daniels, to whom he is strangely
+attached.
+
+While the foregoing is a rather long description of a character to be
+included as part of the cast-outline, and while some of the points in
+connection with Gregory's nature could be more forcibly demonstrated
+by having him _do_ little things in the action that would make them
+apparent, the point is that you are supplying these items of
+information for the benefit of the editor and the director, and that,
+as must be apparent, the fuller their understanding of your meaning in
+everything you write, the better will be their interpretation and
+production of your story.
+
+It is very important to keep this point constantly in mind. Seldom is
+it today that the cast appears on the screen exactly as prepared by
+the author. Almost all the big companies at the present time are given
+to long sub-titles, and to lengthy statements in connection with the
+introduction of the principal characters. Many readers will see the
+similarity between the second of the foregoing descriptions of the old
+miser and the printed statement, in connection with a similar
+character, shown in the Triangle and Paramount pictures written by C.
+Gardner Sullivan, as well as in many others. The statement on the film
+which introduces a principal character, today, is much more in the
+nature of an actual leader than it is a mere announcement of the names
+of the character and the player. Thus, in Universal's feature
+production of "The Kaiser," the heroic blacksmith of Louvain was
+introduced in this way:
+
+     Marcas, the blacksmith of Louvain, was a mighty man. This
+     man, Marcas, lived in faith and love and friendship, and, by
+     the sweat of his brow, had won peace and happiness.
+
+     MARCAS......................ELMO LINCOLN
+
+In writing out your cast, give your most important characters first.
+Try, also, to simplify it and eliminate unnecessary words, first
+writing the name of a principal character and then giving the others
+in the order of their relationship, as:
+
+     Charles Waldron, a wealthy rancher.
+     Mrs. Waldron, his wife.
+     Bessie, his eldest daughter.
+     Jean, his youngest daughter.
+     Dick, his son.
+     Graydon, Waldron's foreman.
+
+This will save words and show at a glance just how the other five
+characters are related to or connected with Charles Waldron.
+
+Make it a rule to write your cast on the last sheet of your synopsis
+_if you have plenty of room left after finishing the synopsis_.
+Otherwise, use a separate sheet. Don't crowd the two divisions as if
+you were trying to economize paper. In the cast proper, give the names
+or occupations of every character whose work in the action really
+helps to advance the action of the play. Also name the scenes in which
+appear the various characters--other than the principals, who are
+likely to dominate nearly every scene.
+
+The first two sample casts which follow do not give the
+characteristics of the different people concerned in the plot. They
+are simply reproduced as examples of photoplay casts which have been
+printed in the manufacturers' bulletins and other advertising matter,
+after the photoplay itself had been produced and was ready for
+release. The third and full cast is altered, so as not to be
+recognizable, from a photoplay which has not yet been produced. This
+last of the three forms is the one we recommend you to follow.
+
+
+PIERRE OF THE NORTH
+
+by
+
+_Elmer N. Wells_
+
+Pierre, a French Canadian trapper.......
+Baptiste, his brother...................
+Duncan McLain, a trapper................
+Mary McKenzie, the factor's daughter....
+John McKenzie, the factor...............
+Mail Carrier............................
+Half Breed..............................
+
+_Produced by the Selig Polyscope Company_
+
+
+THE OLD MUSICIAN
+
+by
+
+_W.A. Tremayne_
+
+Francois Vian, an old musician
+Pierre le Noir, his neighbor
+Oscar Muhlbach, a German spy
+Bertha le Noir, Pierre's sister
+General of the German army
+Infantry officer
+Gendarme
+
+_Produced by the Vitagraph Company of America_
+
+
+THE SOPHOMORE'S SURPRISE
+
+by
+
+X Y Z
+
+TED CARSON     President of the Freshman class at
+               College; twenty, blonde, bright,
+               athletic, full of gay spirits.
+
+FAY NORTON     The college co-ed beauty, inclined
+               to love Ted, who loves her.
+
+NITA CARSON    Ted's twin sister; a freshman
+               co-ed, in love with Hal Coates.
+
+HAL COATES     President of the Sophomore class;
+               twenty-four, dark; athletic rival of
+               Ted, whom he looks down upon.
+               A college leader; lover of Nita.
+
+DAN WILLIS     Ted's chum; a slim and mischievous
+               Freshman.
+
+"BUCK" SLAGLE  Hal's chum; an unprincipled Sophomore.
+
+DEAN HALL      A nervous professor; comedy character.
+
+POLICEMAN      In 16, 17 and 18.
+
+STUDENTS       Throughout.
+
+WAITERS        In 16, 17 and 18.
+
+CO-EDS         In 4, 6, 7, 10, 13 and 17.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE SCENARIO OR CONTINUITY
+
+
+The first step in the preparation of the scenario--or continuity of
+scenes--is not a step at all--it is a state of mind: the mood of
+visualization.
+
+
+_1. The Picture Eye_
+
+No matter how easy it may be for you to write a clear, brief and
+interesting synopsis of your story, nor how successful you may be in
+drawing up your cast of characters, you will fail in producing the
+right kind of scenario to accompany them until you acquire or
+cultivate the picturing eye. To possess it is simply to be able to
+visualize your story as you write it--yes, even before you write it.
+You must not only write that "Hal Murdoch steals his employer's
+letter-book so as to find out some important facts," but you must
+yourself first _see_ him do it, just as you expect to see it on the
+screen. On the regular stage, the "business" of the actors--important
+as it is--is nevertheless of secondary consideration; dialogue comes
+first. On the photoplay stage it is just the reverse--at all times it
+is action that is of primary importance. It is what your characters do
+that counts. Leaders, letters, and other inserts help to make clear
+what you are trying to convey to the audience, but for a proper
+understanding and interpretation of your plot the spectators depend
+upon what they see the characters do; so how can you expect the
+editor, the producer, or the spectator, to "see" your plot
+understandingly unless you yourself are able to visualize every scene
+and incident distinctly as you are putting your thoughts on paper?
+This is what Mr. C.B. Hoadley has to say on this subject, quoted from
+_The Photoplay Author_, now _The Writer's Monthly_:
+
+"Suppose you have a story that has all the requirements for an
+acceptable motion-picture play. You seat yourself to write it, chock
+full of enthusiasm and faith in the idea, and in the exuberance of
+your spirits you see visions of a substantial check. Very well. But
+have you a visualization of the story? Can you close your eyes and see
+it on the screen? Or will you 'get stuck' about the tenth scene when
+it appears to be running smoothly, and then finish along the lines of
+least resistance, mentally concluding that the plot is so excellent
+that the editor or director will finish the work you have so
+enthusiastically planned? This happens to about fifty per cent of the
+authors."
+
+Mr. Phil. Lang, former editor of the Kalem Company, offered this
+sensible advice in reply to a question as to whether his company could
+use psychological scripts. We quote from _The Moving Picture World_:
+
+"The successful photoplaywright is the one who has developed the
+'picture eye.' If you will visualize each scene of this scenario,
+abandoning the 'psychology' which inspired it, you can readily
+determine how it will appear to the picture patron. The psychology of
+an action or the development of an act in the photoplay is only
+psychology when the natural pantomime and business make it clear to
+the spectator. By the process of visualizing you can readily determine
+if your play offers anything different from others of the same
+character which have been done."
+
+Strive, then, to cultivate this ability to see your scenes in action,
+remembering that it is the thing of all things most calculated to help
+you in writing a clear-cut, logical, and interesting scenario of your
+plot. What you cannot clearly visualize is not worth writing.
+
+
+_2. Identifying the Characters Early_
+
+There is nothing more annoying to the spectator or more calculated to
+insure the widespread condemnation of your photoplay after it has been
+produced than to fail in establishing the identity of all your
+principal characters early in the action. The basic relationship of
+each character to the others should be made clear just as soon as
+possible after each makes his first appearance in the picture, if,
+indeed, it is not made clear just before his appearance by the
+introduction of an explanatory insert.
+
+We urge this clear identification of characters so that your
+spectators may be saved the annoyance of needless speculation, and be
+able to yield to the play their instant attention and sympathetic
+interest. Furthermore, this course will enable you to tell your story
+and develop your plot with much greater ease, since the onlookers,
+understanding who everybody is, and how they are disposed towards
+each other, will grasp the points of the plot more quickly. Remember
+that the motives actuating the different characters are virtually sure
+to be the very foundations of a photoplay plot.
+
+Almost everyone has sat half through a photoplay which was perfect in
+all other respects, but far from pleasing because it left the
+spectators guessing for minutes as to "who's who."
+
+"Keep your first characters on the screen, even though in different
+scenes, long enough to get everyone familiar with them and their
+environment in the story before introducing a new and unexpected phase
+in the tale. To fail in this is faulty construction."[16]
+
+[Footnote 16: Herbert Case Hoagland: _How to Write a Photoplay_.]
+
+
+_3. Prompt Beginning of the Action_
+
+A common mistake among amateur photoplaywrights is to waste far too
+much time on preliminaries. If a guest is expected from a distant
+city, all that is necessary, as a rule, is to write in a short letter,
+which is opened and read by the host- or hostess-to-be, announcing
+that the guest will arrive at a certain time. But the young writer--to
+judge from many scripts we have examined--thinks that in such a case
+it is necessary to show the housemaid preparing the guest-chamber,
+another scene in which the hostess instructs the chauffeur to be ready
+at such an hour to meet her guest at the station, and so on. No matter
+what kind of story you are writing, go straight to the point from the
+opening--make the wheels of the plot actually commence to revolve in
+the first scene--_plunge_ into your action, don't wade timidly in inch
+by inch. To use up two or three scenes in showing trivial incidents
+which may happen to the characters while they are, so to speak,
+standing in the wings ready to make their entrances, is as tiresome as
+it is useless. If the hero of the Western story makes his first
+appearance by dashing into the scene madly pursued by a band of
+Indians, the spectator is not interested in finding out what he was
+doing at the time he first discovered the red men closing in upon him;
+it is how he will escape them that engages their whole attention. Once
+get your action started vividly and the interest of the spectators
+will permit you to give all the really necessary foundation
+information as you move on with your story.
+
+
+_4. Sequence in the Action_
+
+Apply the same rule of directness to the introduction of new
+characters in the scenes that follow. There is one main theme, one
+main line of development, in every well constructed story--and only
+one. See to it that you do not digress from it except as you bring up
+from the rear other essential parts of the action. There is absolutely
+no place in the photoplay for side trips.
+
+As simply and as emphatically as we can put it, the most important
+thing in connection with the writing of the scenario is to have the
+action progress smoothly, logically, and interestingly from the first
+to the last scene. Wherever possible, one scene should lead into the
+next scene, and each scene should appear to be the only one
+possible--from the standpoint of the action it contains--at that stage
+of the plot's development. If, even for a moment, a scene appears to
+have been written in solely for effect, or merely to delay the climax
+of the story, the picture is open to criticism for padding. Not only
+should the denouement (the untying, the clearing up of the story at
+the close) appear to be the only one logically possible, but each
+successive scene should follow the one preceding it with
+inevitableness.
+
+To be sure, this does not mean, as we explained in the chapter on
+Plot, that the sequence of your scenes must be the simple,
+straight-forward sequence of everyday life, in which one character is
+seen to carry out his action without interruption from start to
+finish. Quite to the contrary, photoplay action must often interrupt
+the course of one character so as to bring another personage,
+or set of personages, into the action at the proper time to
+furnish the surprising interruptions and complications--and their
+unfoldings--required to make a plot. But all this really _is_ the
+progressive, logical development of the story in good climacteric
+style.
+
+Elsewhere in this volume we have spoken of the way in which the action
+progresses in the twelve- to sixteen-scene comic pictures in the comic
+supplements to the Sunday newspapers. Take for example the well-known
+"Bringing Up Father" series of "comics." Commencing with the basic
+situation, the action moves progressively to a logical conclusion, the
+climax coming, usually, in the next to the last picture. The last
+picture is the surprise-denouement--the event which naturally and
+inevitably follows the climax. There is, of course, a wide contrast
+between one of these series and a "dramatic" photoplay; but the same
+principle that governs the evolution of the story in the comic
+supplement should be applied to the working out of your photoplay
+story. Cultivate the picturing eye, we repeat, so that by being able
+to visualize each scene as you plan it in your mind you cannot fail to
+produce in your scenario a series of scenes whose action is logically
+connected and essentially natural and unforced.
+
+
+_5. The Interest of Suspense_
+
+To say that there must be a logical sequence in progressing from scene
+to scene, and that each must appear to be the natural outcome of the
+one preceding it, is by no means to say that you must suggest in one
+scene what is about to follow in the next. It is when we review a
+photoplay in retrospection that we decide whether proper care has been
+given to the planning of the scenes so as to make them lead smoothly
+one into the other, but while we are watching a photoplay for the
+first time, half the charm lies in _not_ knowing what is coming next.
+
+Suspense, then, must be kept in mind as the scenario is being planned.
+You should not only keep the spectator in suspense as to the climax as
+long as possible, but in building up your plot you should work in as
+many unexpected twists as you can without destroying its logic. Mr.
+Hoagland says: "Suspense is a delightful sensation, though we all beg
+not to be kept in it." So whet the spectator's imagination by
+springing little surprises and minor climaxes whenever they can be
+introduced without seeming to be forced. Make each such incident
+another step upward toward your climax proper; hold back the "big"
+surprise, the startling denouement, until the very end. The most
+enjoyable feature of Anna Katherine Green's "The Leavenworth Case" was
+that she kept the reader in the dark until the last chapter as to who
+was the real murderer. All the many detective novels that have since
+appeared have been successful exactly in proportion as the solution of
+the mystery has been withheld from the reader until the end of the
+story.
+
+Naturally, this requires careful planning. About twenty years ago, one
+of the high-class fiction magazines published a story in which a
+reporter who had been interviewing the leading woman of a theatrical
+company was caught on the stage as the curtain rose on the first act.
+The leading woman was supposed to be "discovered" at the rise of the
+curtain, but the newspaper man was both surprised and embarrassed by
+_his_ being discovered. Nevertheless, having his overcoat on and
+carrying his hat in his hand, with great presence of mind he turned to
+the actress and said: "Very well, madam; I will call for the clock at
+three this afternoon." Then he made a deliberate exit, and the leading
+woman read her first speech. But, as the play progressed, there was
+scarcely one in the audience who failed to wonder why the "actor" who
+had spoken the line about the clock did not reappear according to
+promise. At a certain point in the action of the drama, just where the
+intervention of someone from outside would have been most opportune,
+the audience expected that the "jeweler" would make his reappearance;
+but of course he did not, the play ended as the author had intended it
+to end--and the audience went out feeling that something had gone
+wrong somewhere--as it had.
+
+The lesson to the photoplaywright is plain: Never introduce into the
+early scenes of the scenario any incident that is likely to mislead
+the spectator into thinking that it is of sufficient importance to
+affect the ultimate denouement, when it really has no bearing upon it.
+Reverse this, and you have another good rule to follow in writing the
+scenario. As one critic said in substance, if you intend to have one
+of your characters die of heart disease toward the end of the play,
+prepare your audience for this event by "registering" in an earlier
+scene the fact that his heart is affected. Do not drag in a scene to
+make this fact clear, but, in two or three different scenes, have him
+show that his heart is weak, and be sure that every one of these
+scenes serves the double purpose of registering this fact and
+introducing other important action relevant to the plot. In other
+words, make the slight attacks which the man experiences all through
+the story merely incidental to the scenes in which they occur. Then
+when the fatal attack comes, the audience is prepared for it, yet
+they have not been actually looking forward to it through several
+scenes. While speaking of heart disease, we would call the attention
+of the writer to an observation lately made by the photoplay critic of
+_The Dramatic Mirror_: "Scenario writers notwithstanding, it is
+exceptional for people to die because an unexpected piece of news
+shocks them, even when they suffer from weak hearts. Robust men do not
+part from life so readily, and film tragedies of this kind generally
+fail to carry conviction because the facts presented are divorced from
+the customary laws of nature."
+
+Do not introduce a new character in one of the late scenes, especially
+if he or she is importantly connected with the plot, even though you
+use that character in the picture for only a brief interval. If the
+appearance of a certain man in one of the late scenes will help in
+saving the life of a condemned man, try to plan the entrance of this
+character into the story in an earlier scene, even though only for a
+period long enough to establish who and what he is. In this way you
+may avoid a long and otherwise unnecessary leader just when you are
+approaching your climax and thus halt the interest.
+
+
+_6. Action May Be Too Rapid_
+
+If you are writing the scenario of a dramatic plot, it is evident
+that, within reasonable limits, the more dramatic situations--the more
+"punches," in the vernacular--you can put into it, the more likely it
+is to find favor in the eyes of the editor and the producer. But too
+many writers, conscious of this fact, make the mistake of forcing the
+pace. The solid photoplay of today should not be made to resemble a
+cheap melodrama, in which something highly sensational is sure to
+happen every three minutes. Just because you have seen a sensational
+episode in a play on the screen, do not attempt to crowd your scenario
+with minor thrills and sensations, regardless of whether the incident
+pictured is relevant to the plot. If your plot is a strong one, its
+unfolding will _suggest_ scenes of sufficient dramatic quality to hold
+the interest. But do not search your brain for startling situations to
+introduce here, there, and everywhere in the action, paying no
+attention to whether they have little, if anything, to do with the
+plot.
+
+Imagination is the writer's greatest asset, but imagination run riot
+is photoplay madness. It must be intelligently exercised else it will
+fairly run away with the plot, and the result will be a literary
+wreck. You must study--and hence realize at least fairly
+completely--the possibilities of your story before you start to write
+it at all. Haphazard work will never bring you anything--in photoplay
+writing or in any other creative line.
+
+
+_7. Centralizing the Interest_
+
+It is almost impossible to produce a really effective photoplay
+without centering the attention of the spectator on one of the
+principal characters and holding it there until the end. Even when the
+principal characters are lovers, either one or the other is bound to
+stand out in the picture more than the other. As in a play on the
+regular stage, either the hero or the heroine must dominate the action
+or the spectator is very likely to miss some of the best points of the
+plot because of the shifting interest. In such a play as "Romeo and
+Juliet," many would find it difficult to determine which of the two
+principal characters evokes the more sympathy and interest in the
+spectators. Yet a careful study of the play will leave no doubt that
+it was Shakespeare's intention that one of the two "star-crossed
+lovers"--Juliet--should dominate the action of the drama very subtly
+and certainly, the other being, though in only the slightest degree,
+it is true, subordinate to the "principal." The same thing is true in
+the stories of Damon and Pythias, Paolo and Francesca, and Pelleas and
+Melisande. You must determine at the very beginning whether it is to
+be the man or the woman, and, having trained the spot-light upon that
+one, keep it there until the end.
+
+A certain picture, released about four years ago by a European
+manufacturer, was concerned with a husband, his wife, and his
+friend--a man who for a period of some months was a guest in the home
+of the pair. In the ordinary sense, it was not a problem plot; the
+friend was an honorable man, and the husband, who had the most sincere
+admiration for his old college companion, was a fine fellow in every
+way. Yet, as the story progressed it became apparent that there had
+been a love affair between the wife and her husband's friend when
+they were both scarcely more than children. Little incidents in the
+action of the next few scenes gradually caused the audience to
+sympathize with the friend. Then, toward the end of the play, the
+sympathy was definitely shifted to the husband. This, of course,
+viewed in the proper light, was as it should be; but only a scene or
+two from the end of the picture an incident happened that again caused
+the audience to feel that it was the friend who alone deserved the
+woman's love. The result was that out of all the hundreds of people
+who saw the picture in the two days during which it was shown at a
+certain theatre, none expressed themselves as being satisfied with it,
+although only a few were able to say directly that they did not
+approve of the play because of the frequently shifted interest.
+
+Thus the picture failed because whoever wrote it did not keep in mind
+the important fact that divided interest will go a long way toward
+destroying the dramatic value of any story, regardless of how perfect
+it may be otherwise.
+
+Use as few principals as possible, no matter how many minor characters
+or extra people are employed; and be sure to keep the subordinate
+characters in the background sufficiently to prevent them from
+detracting in any way from the interest that should be constantly
+fixed upon your principals, and especially the _two_ principals who
+make possible nine-tenths of all the stories written.
+
+
+_8. Managing Changes of Scene_
+
+In preparing the scenario it is important to remember that if a leader
+is introduced _before_ a scene, the leader should be written first,
+and followed by the number and description of the scene. And in
+describing your scenes you should study the convenience of the
+director: where more than one scene is to be done in a set, refer back
+to the _original_ scene number. Thus if Scene 5 is the sheriff's
+office, and the same background is used for scenes 7, 9, and 14, when
+writing Scene 14 say:
+
+     14--Sheriff's office, same as  5--
+
+No matter how many times that setting may be used as the background
+for a scene of your story, write it out every time just as you did at
+first. Do not merely say: Same as 5. Follow the scene number, whether
+it be 7, 9, or 14, with: "Sheriff's office;" then add the "same as 5."
+Also, do not forget what was said in Chapter VI regarding the writing
+of your scene-number at 0 (or 0 and 1, if there are two figures) on
+the scale-bar of your typewriter. In this way, if 5 is your left
+marginal stop, you will have almost a half-inch space between the
+number and the description of the scene. Bridge this space with the
+hyphen or short-dash character, and you will be sure that the
+director's attention is quickly drawn to each change of scene.
+
+It is extremely important to remember that in telling your story in
+action even the slightest change of location means another scene. Let
+us make this point perfectly clear:
+
+Suppose you have a scene in which a fire ladder is placed against the
+wall of a burning building, only the lower part of the ladder showing
+in the picture. A fireman starts to mount, and finally disappears
+overhead. The scene changes, and we see the upper windows of the
+building and the upper portion of the ladder. Suddenly the fireman's
+head appears as he climbs up (into the picture), then his whole body
+comes into view, and presently he climbs in at one of the windows.
+
+These are written in as two separate scenes, though it is plain that
+in real life they are actually one, and in the photoplay they are not
+separated even by an insert of any kind, thus seeming to be one, as
+intended.
+
+But now suppose that when the fireman starts up the ladder the
+cameraman "follows him"--tilts his camera so that the result is a
+"shifting stage"--the eye of the spectator following the fireman as he
+goes up and until he reaches the top of the ladder and climbs in at
+the window. That, of course, constitutes only one scene--the swinging
+of the camera to follow the progress of the actor simply enlarges the
+stage, as it were. Such scenes as this second one are frequently seen
+in photoplays--an aeroplane leaving the ground and rising in its
+flight, a band of horsemen riding "across" and eventually "out of" a
+picture, a man climbing down the side of a cliff, and the like. But as
+a rule they are simply arranged by the director's instructing the
+cameraman to swing his camera as described--the writer of the script
+does not introduce an actual direction to the director to obtain the
+effect in this way but writes them in as two scenes.
+
+In taking such panoramic scenes as those just described, the tripod of
+the camera remains unmoved. Even in a railroad drama, where we see an
+engine run down a track for a quarter of a mile or more, the camera is
+mounted on another train, which closely follows the one seen in the
+picture, and hence it is plainly, from a technical standpoint, only
+one scene, though while it is being shown on the screen the background
+is changing continuously. It is the _abrupt_ shifting from one
+locality to another that constitutes a "change of scene" in the
+photoplay.
+
+This being so, it follows that each change of scene must be given a
+separate scene-number in your scenario. We have examined dozens of
+amateur scripts in which scenes would be found written thus:
+
+8--Library, same as 2.
+
+     Tom looks on floor, fails to find locket, and then goes into
+     one room after another searching for it.
+
+This, of course, is impossible. Even though the director were willing
+to show Tom going through the different rooms looking for the lost
+piece of jewelry, each scene would have to be separately and
+consecutively numbered in the scenario. If in the tenth room visited
+Tom should find the locket and then go out on the piazza to speak to
+Mabel about it, the scene showing the piazza would be 18 and not 9.
+
+It is quite as incorrect to divide into two or more parts the action
+of what should be one scene, as already explained, as it is to try to
+make one scene out of two or more by running them together in the way
+illustrated in the foregoing bad example. To avoid both errors, bear
+in mind that besides giving every scene a separate scene number, you
+must write a scene into your scenario whenever it is necessary to
+supply a new background for some bit of action. For example, you
+cannot say:
+
+     Scene 4. John comes out of the store, walks down the street
+     for a couple of blocks, and enters the bank on the corner.
+
+That much action would be written about as follows:
+
+1--Exterior of store.
+
+     John comes out of store and walks down street, out of
+     picture.
+
+2--Street.
+
+     Enter John. Passes down street and out of picture.
+
+3--Exterior of bank on street corner.
+
+     John comes down street, approaches bank, and enters.
+
+In the foregoing example, three scenes are given to show how John gets
+from the store to the bank; but it might not be really necessary to
+take three scenes to show this action. We might see John leave the
+store and start down the street, the camera being set up in such a way
+as to take in not only the doorway of the store but also a
+considerable portion of the street. If the scene showing the front of
+the bank were planned in the same way, so as to show John approaching
+up the street, as though coming from the store, the connecting scene
+(2), which merely shows him between the two points, could very well be
+left out altogether, to be supplied by the imagination of the
+spectators.
+
+Experience alone--combined with the study of the pictures seen on the
+screen--can teach you just what scenes are really necessary and which
+may be avoided; the point to remember is that you should not waste
+footage on even the shortest scene that can be eliminated without
+detracting from the interest or breaking the logical sequence of the
+events in your story. In other words, make it your hard and fast rule
+to write _nothing_ into your scenario that does not aid materially in
+telling your story and making your meaning clear to the spectator. On
+the other hand, see that you _omit nothing_ that will tend to produce
+the same result.
+
+Going back to the example just given, we would point out that we
+purposely introduced into it an example of what _not_ to do. Scene 3
+is described as the "exterior of bank _on street corner_." That is
+something that it is best to leave entirely to the director. Let him
+do the locating of all the buildings used in a story, unless there is
+an exceptionally good reason why you should specify just where a
+certain building ought to be. The chances are that there is no special
+reason why the bank in your story should be located on the corner of
+the street, and the director might be able to locate a bank suitable
+for the purpose of the scene in question within a block or two of the
+studio. If there is a really important reason for having the bank on
+the corner, he may have to go a mile or more away from the studio to
+find one; and, inasmuch as it is frequently the case that the director
+will take his cameraman and the necessary actor or actors out with
+him, and do such a scene as this one outside the bank while another
+set is being built up inside the studio for him to work in, it will
+easily be seen that the more you can help him out by making things
+convenient for him the more likely he is to express a desire to
+examine other stories written by you.
+
+This point will bear repeating: A scene is so much of the entire
+action as is taken in one place without stopping the camera; in its
+photoplay sense, _scene_ never refers to the action between certain
+players, nor does a new scene commence when another character enters
+upon a scene already in course of action.
+
+It is a mistake, in working out the scenario, to keep the action in
+the same setting too long at a time. Frequent changes of scene are
+advisable. In his article in _The Photoplay Author_ for March, 1913,
+Mr. C.B. Hoadley tells of a script written by a well-known actress who
+is also the author of several successful "legitimate" dramas. Having
+appeared in a notable picture drama, she determined to take up
+photoplay writing herself. Her first effort--a comedy drama--was
+returned. The lady was highly indignant; yet the reason for the
+rejection of her script becomes apparent when it is known that the
+entire action of her story occurred in a hotel corridor and in a room
+in the same hostelry. Only nineteen scenes were used, and of these,
+eighteen were to be played in the one room without a break in the
+settings. Imagine the monotony of such a production, even on the
+regular stage!
+
+But while it is best to have a frequent change of scene, it is also a
+mistake to risk confusing the spectator by changing often from one
+scene to another far removed from the first, especially without the
+use of some explanatory insert.
+
+In connection with the error of some amateur writers referred to on
+page 146, of making what is (or would be, if their script was worked
+out as planned by them) actually one scene when they intend it to be
+two, it may be said that this is one of the commonest and most amusing
+errors of beginners. The mistake lies simply in their failure to
+observe the rule of _always separating two different scenes in the
+same set or location by interposing a scene in a different setting, or
+by introducing a leader_. If this rule is not observed, the
+result--even though it goes no farther than the amateur script--is
+decidedly funny. To illustrate, take the following example:
+
+23--Bedroom, same as 12--
+
+     Thorn, still looking through contents of bureau drawer,
+     stops, listens, indicates that he hears someone coming down
+     hall, and then, closing drawer, crosses to the window again
+     and makes his escape.
+
+24--Bedroom, same as 12--
+
+     Tom is sitting at the table opening the letters laid there
+     by the landlady. He opens one, etc., etc.
+
+A glance at the foregoing will show that, if produced as written, the
+result on the screen would be a continuous scene in the bedroom
+setting. Thorn would be seen making his exit by way of the window, and
+then _instantly_ there would be Tom sitting at the table, opening his
+mail! There would be lacking the logical action of his coming into the
+room, crossing to the table, and sitting down. The whole effect would
+be much the same as in those "fairy" plays produced several years ago,
+where "stop camera" work was resorted to to obtain the effect of a
+supernatural being suddenly appearing on the scene, greatly to the
+astonishment of the mere mortals present.
+
+Introduce a scene showing Thorn just landing on the ground after
+sliding down a rain-water pipe from the roof of the veranda, or even
+insert a leader between the two scenes as now written, and the mind of
+the spectator is prepared for almost anything that he may find to be
+going on in that room when he sees it again. But too much care cannot
+be taken to guard against everything that may make for jerky or
+illogical action of this kind. The merciless scissors of a careless
+operator in the picture theatre may remove three or four inches of the
+film at a certain point, with the result that a character leaving one
+side of the room and starting to go out by the door on the other side
+may be made to cross the room at a bound, causing a surprised laugh
+at a very serious moment of your play. Do not approximate this
+ludicrous effect by writing your scenes as illustrated in the
+foregoing example.
+
+Still another laughable error of the novice is to introduce into a
+scene certain action which could not be properly registered in mere
+pantomime. We lately examined an amateur script in which the following
+appeared as part of the action between a girl and a man in a farm
+location:
+
+     so (Mary) tells the stranger that her father is over in the
+     next field, milking the cow. He starts to, etc.
+
+Now, whether or not the spectator in the theatre were shown a previous
+scene in which Father actually milked a cow, the pantomime of Mary, in
+trying to make plain without the aid of a cut-in leader the fact that
+she was telling the man what her father was doing, would be extremely
+ludicrous, to say the least. You must give thought to every bit of
+action you write, remembering that it is of no use to say that
+so-and-so happens if the action described will not register clearly in
+pantomime. Here again experience will teach you what to put in and
+what to leave out.
+
+
+_9. The "Cut-Back"_
+
+Readers of the boys' story papers published a few years ago will
+remember how at the end of one chapter the hero would be left hanging
+by a slender vine over a yawning chasm, "one thousand feet deep." The
+next chapter, instead of continuing the logical sequence of action and
+explaining how he was rescued--or rescued himself--would begin: "Let
+us now return to Captain Barlow and Professor Whipple, whom we left
+facing the band of dwarfs at the mouth of the cave, etc." These
+stories exemplified practically the same technique as is employed
+today by photoplaywrights who use what has become known as the
+"cut-back," sometimes referred to as the "flash-back."
+
+Mr. D.W. Griffith is commonly credited with having "invented" this
+technical device, which is simply a frequent switching from one scene
+to another, and then back again to the first, in order to heighten
+interest by maintaining the suspense. Its use has been well
+illustrated by Mr. C.B. Hoadley, who cites a play in which the
+contrasting pictures of "a gambler seated at cards with convivial
+companions, and his wife at home in a scantily furnished room keeping
+vigil at the bedside of their sick child," are flashed back and forth
+in such a manner as to keep the contrast before the spectators while
+yet developing the drama effectively.
+
+Another good example of the use of the cut-back was shown in an old
+Biograph subject, "Three Friends." One of three friends who have sworn
+never to separate falls in love with a young woman of the village and
+marries her. A second of the trio is enraged to think that his friend
+has broken up the triangle; the third, of better nature, is merely
+very much disappointed. As a result of breaking up the trio, the two
+bachelors leave the factory to go to another town. A baby is born to
+the young married couple, and they are very happy for a time. Then the
+second friend, Jim, comes back to his old shop to take the position of
+foreman. As the result of a quarrel between him and the young husband,
+the latter is discharged. From that time on things go badly with the
+young couple, and soon bad is followed by worse. When they are on the
+verge of starvation, and the husband has returned home after a
+fruitless search for work, the wife goes out to try to beg a bottle of
+milk. While she is away, the husband, thoroughly disheartened,
+resolves to ask her to die with him, confident that neighbors will
+care for the child. She returns home empty handed, and, though at
+first shocked and horrified by his proposal, finally consents. Just as
+the husband covers his wife's eyes with his hand and raises the
+pistol, the two friends of former days burst into the room. One of the
+husband's shop-mates has told the third friend of how "Jim fired
+him"--as a leader tells us--and the reproaches of the third friend
+have been instrumental in bringing about a feeling of remorse in the
+heart of the foreman. The two hurry together to the little home,
+arriving just in time to prevent the tragedy.
+
+All through this picture the cut-back is used most effectively. Early
+in the action, supposedly a day or two after the young man had met his
+future wife, we are shown the two other men waiting for him at the
+saloon, the three glasses of beer standing untouched upon the table.
+The scene then switches to the young man and the girl out walking,
+gazing from a bridge into the river. Back to the saloon again, and we
+see the two friends looking at their watches, about to leave, the
+third glass still standing untouched. Then, back to another pretty
+exterior, where the young man proposes and is accepted. Toward the
+climax, the use of the cut-back becomes even more effective: we see
+the wife go out to get the milk; the two friends at the same old table
+in the saloon; the husband bending over the child, taking out the
+revolver, and indicating what is in his mind to do; then the scene in
+the saloon, where the fourth man tells the kind-hearted friend how the
+foreman has discharged his former comrade; back in the house again, we
+see the man and the woman prepared to die together; then the exterior
+of the saloon, with the two friends coming out; another home scene
+leading up to the expected tragedy; the two friends hurrying down a
+street--and even though they are hurrying, we know that they are
+unaware of what is going on in the house which is their destination,
+and we are fearful lest they may arrive too late; the man with his
+hand held over the eyes of his wife, the revolver being slowly raised;
+the two friends at the gate of the cottage; and then the climax as
+they enter the room just in time to avert the tragedy. Thus the
+cut-back effect kept suspense and interest at highest pitch every
+moment.
+
+Some years ago the same company released a drama, "The Cord of Life,"
+in which the cut-back was used so effectively to heighten the suspense
+and add to the thrill that many people in the audience of the theatre
+were leaning forward in their seats and making excited comments--the
+supreme test of a picture "with a punch."
+
+One caution is necessary in the use of the cut-back--_do not use it as
+an excuse to digress_. Above everything else, when you have started
+the ball of your plot rolling, keep it rolling _forward_. You must not
+switch back to some earlier scene for the purpose of picking up a
+point that you have overlooked. Nor is it possible to go back and
+follow the characters who have been temporarily dispensed with. If
+they reappear, it must be in a scene which naturally follows, and does
+not come with a sense of perplexing surprise. Remember this: When
+characters are reintroduced they must not have been too long absent
+from the plot-movement, but they must have been all the time
+consciously or subconsciously present in the mind of the spectator _as
+being essentially in the story_.
+
+Unfriendly critics of the photoplay--and there are some such--have
+said some harsh things about "the mugging close-up and the
+nerve-wracking cut-backs," nor have their criticisms been wholly
+without point and justification. But only, of course, when these
+technical devices are abused by over-use. Mr. Sargent has pointed out
+that the close-up of the silent drama is only another form of the
+spot-light used on the regular stage, and, similarly, the cut-back
+finds its duplicate in the "off-stage" sound-effects of the regular
+drama. Instead of the "galloping horse" effects of the legitimate
+stage, we get on the screen the actual scene of the horseman dashing
+ahead. But anything overdone is bad, and cut-backs and other similar
+devices are no exception to this rule. Not only is our attention
+called to the fact that the writer or director is working a certain
+technical trick to death, but in following the story its working out
+is spoiled for us as a result of the very thing used with the
+intention of heightening our interest.
+
+"Even Griffith, in his big production, 'Hearts of the World,' taxes
+suspense too far at one point," says Mr. Sargent. "So clever a
+trickster as he (and, like Belasco, he is more the artistic trickster
+than the artist) has failed to realize that suspense, carried too far,
+becomes first tiresome and then amusing. This applies most directly to
+the single situation, but it is almost equally applicable to a
+situation strong in itself, but which is depended upon to yield
+suspense out of proportion to its value."
+
+And, since Mr. Griffith's main suspense-producer has always been his
+self-invented cut-back device, the error of over-using this technical
+trick is made even more apparent by what this critic points out. Here
+again a careful study of the methods of several different leading
+directors is your best guide.
+
+
+_10. How Various Kinds of Inserts Are Used_
+
+The use of leaders, letters, and other inserts needs some treatment in
+connection with the scenario. The ordinary statement-leader, such as
+"Two years later. Bob returns to his old home," is used before the
+scene to which it applies. It shows the spectator the passage of time,
+and explains what is about to follow. The ordinary, before-the-scene,
+leader, is frequently employed to make such a statement as, "Tom
+accuses his brother of having forged the check." But the other way of
+telling the audience what Tom does is the use of the cut-in leader--of
+which more later. This enables us to read Tom's own words--the
+distinguishing mark of the cut-in.
+
+This very effective form of the leader takes its name from the fact
+that it cuts in, or is inserted into, the midst of a scene. That the
+cut-in leader may tell all that is necessary much better than could a
+long statement of what is going on is evident because the direct words
+of a character are more effective than the same ideas expressed in the
+third person.
+
+Another consideration is that using the cut-in and omitting the leader
+before the scene makes it possible to start the scene with action that
+does not at first disclose Tom's intention. Then when the proper
+moment arrives, the cut-in leader is flashed on the screen, and the
+result is that, instead of the spectator's anticipating what is about
+to happen, he is likely to be as much taken by surprise as is the
+guilty brother.
+
+After introducing the cut-in leader, write _Back to scene_, the same
+as after an inserted letter, telegram, newspaper item, or the like.
+
+In what follows we give examples of proper scenario form, as well as
+examples of the way in which the leader, cut-in leader, letter, bust,
+and mask are used.
+
+[Illustration: View of Stage, Lubin Studio, Los Angeles, California]
+
+[Illustration: Wardrobe Room in a Photoplay Studio]
+
+
+_Leader_--TOM DISCOVERS HIS BROTHER'S CRIME
+
+9--Maxwell's library, same as 4--
+
+     Tom enters, followed by Ralph. Tom goes straight to desk,
+     opens it, and takes out envelope. From it he takes Ralph's
+     letter and the check. Glances over letter again, Ralph
+     standing by, watching him with nervous expression.
+
+_On screen, letter._
+
+     Dear Blakely:
+
+     I send you enclosed my father's check to cover amount of my
+     debt to you. Kindly send receipt to me at old address.
+
+     Yours,
+
+     RALPH MAXWELL.
+
+_Back to scene_.
+
+     Tom lays letter on desk and picks up check, looking at it
+     closely. Suddenly starts, frowns, glances at Ralph, and then
+     looks intently at check again. Opens drawer of desk and
+     takes out reading-glass. Holding check in left hand, he
+     examines it closely through the glass.
+
+10--Bust of Tom's left hand holding check, right hand grasping glass,
+focusing the glass upon the name signed to the check. This shows that
+the name has been written in a very shaky hand.
+
+11--Back to 9--
+
+     Tom lays reading-glass on desk, looks at his brother
+     accusingly, and then thrusts check close to his face.
+
+_Leader_--"RALPH, YOU FORGED THIS CHECK!"
+
+_Back to scene_.
+
+     Ralph looks at Tom despairingly, his face betraying his
+     guilt. Tom hangs head in shame, at thought of his brother's
+     crime.
+
+12--Hallway, showing door of library--
+
+     Wilkins, the butler, kneeling before library door, his eye
+     glued to key-hole.
+
+13--Portion of library, same as 4, seen through key-hole--
+
+     Ralph is explaining to Tom how he came to owe Blakely the
+     money, etc.
+
+
+Now let us take up the different points just as they have been
+introduced in the foregoing example, and briefly explain each.
+
+The leader is shown, first of all, simply as an example of an ordinary
+before-the-scene leader. In writing a scenario such as the one of
+which this might be a part, if you introduced the cut-in leader in
+Scene 11, there would be no necessity for giving also the ordinary
+bald statement-leader before Scene 9. The fact that "Tom discovers his
+brother's crime" is made plainer by Tom's own spoken words, in Scene
+11, than an ordinary leader before the first scene in the library (in
+this example) could make it. In the middle of this scene (9) Tom reads
+his brother's unsent letter, and you write "On screen, letter,"
+following this note to the director with the letter itself. After the
+letter you write "Back to scene," showing that the scene in the
+library is not ended and that the action which is broken by the
+flashing on the screen of the letter is continued just as soon as Tom
+lays the letter down--that is, as soon as it disappears from the
+screen.
+
+The "bust" comes next, but since we wish to compare the bust with
+another technical device, the "close-up," let us pass it by in detail
+for the moment. But you must remember, when introducing a bust, that
+it is a separate scene, and must, therefore, be given a separate and
+distinct scene-number. The bust breaks the scene in the library as Tom
+scrutinizes the check through the reading-glass. The letter previously
+shown also broke the scene, or interrupted the action; but the bust,
+being considered as a separate scene, is given a scene-number--10.
+
+After the bust (10), Scene 11 takes us back to the library; but we do
+not follow the scene-number (11) with "Maxwell's library, same as 4"
+(4, as the example shows, was the number of the first scene played in
+the library). Instead, we write "11--Back to 9," which shows that the
+action in the library is picked up and continued from the point where
+it ended (on the screen) when the bust picture was flashed.
+
+
+_11. Masks_
+
+After Tom has openly accused his brother of forgery, as shown by the
+cut-in leader, the scene changes to the hallway outside the library
+door. We see Wilkins, the butler, who is implicated in the plot
+against Ralph, kneeling and peering into the room through the
+key-hole. This is a very short scene, but it is necessary to show two
+things: not only that the brothers are being spied upon, for we are
+not interested in merely watching the butler kneeling there, but it is
+important for us to see _what_ he is watching so intently--the action
+in the library. So, after we have shown the spy kneeling outside the
+door, the scene is shifted back to the continuation of the interview
+between Tom and Ralph. This time, however, we see it on the screen in
+a way that merely _suggests_ the butler kneeling outside the closed
+door. On the screen appears a large key-hole, and within its limits
+the scene between the brothers is acted.
+
+The effect thus produced is termed a "mask." Ordinarily the lens of a
+moving picture camera is masked by a metal plate, rectangular in
+shape, one inch wide by three-quarters of an inch high. The use of
+this mask prevents the light from spreading up or down the film as it
+is being exposed. As explained in Chapter III, each of the sixteen
+tiny pictures that make up a foot of film is termed a "frame," and,
+the camera being masked as described, the light is permitted to act
+upon only one frame at a time. But within this limit of one inch by
+three-quarters of an inch another mask may be used, cut in any form
+that the producer may desire. It may be a key-hole mask, as in the
+foregoing example; it may be simply circular, to suggest that the
+scene is viewed through a telescope; or a mask with hair-line bars,
+which will suggest that you are looking through a window. We examined
+a script a short while ago in which a travelling salesman for an
+optical goods house amused himself in the interval before train time
+by watching through a pair of binoculars the street below and the
+buildings opposite his hotel window. The scene enacted in an office of
+a building not far away led him to believe that a murder was being
+committed, and the action which followed was extremely funny. The
+scene in the office, watched by the "drummer" through the binoculars,
+appeared on the screen as though viewed through a large and very round
+figure eight, lying on its side, thus: [symbol: figure-eight].
+
+The four just mentioned are the commonest forms of the mask; but we
+have seen masks cut in the shape of oak leaves, bottles, and other
+forms, though these latter were used merely to obtain novel effects.
+
+The mask may be used as an inserted scene--as we have here chiefly
+considered it--or it may serve as a sort of excuse for the entire
+action of the photoplay, as in the case of the commercial traveller
+and his binoculars, and add effectiveness by its novelty of
+presentation.
+
+
+_12. The Bust and the Close-up_
+
+In former usage, the term "bust" was employed to describe any enlarged
+view, as a watch, a face, a hand turning a door knob. Now the term has
+been given a less wide range and has been superseded in its broadest
+meaning by another technical expression--the "close-up."
+
+The bust now means any enlarged _object_, such as a hand holding a
+watch, a box of cigars on a table with a note pinned to a cigar, or
+any object shown close to the camera, _where no action is called for_.
+
+If Maud comes into a room and sees her sister staring at the window
+sill, crosses to the sister's side and stares also, it is natural that
+we wonder what it is that causes the consternation. The camera is
+manifestly too far away to show unmistakably what Maud picks up--say,
+a broken-off knife-point. Suppose that it is part of the plot to have
+the spectator also grasp the fact that there is a dark stain on the
+knife-point. We must get it closer. So we write the scene up to the
+point where Maud holds up the object, then we start another scene and
+say:
+
+     43--Bust of Maud's hand holding knife-point to show
+     blood-stain in shape of rude star.
+
+There is no action. The hand simply holds the object. A scene of this
+kind is usually taken before a black curtain or in front of some such
+indeterminate background. Later, this bust scene is inserted into the
+film at the proper point. A point worthy of notice is that bust scenes
+are always taken, and close-up scenes are _nearly_ always taken,
+either before or (usually) after the scenes into which they break have
+been done. If the plot demands that a certain character examine his
+watch at a certain point, and if the spectator is supposed to see
+exactly what time the watch shows, the director is not going to stop
+his camera, bring the camera nearer to the player or the player nearer
+to the camera, as his method may be, make the bust picture, and then
+resume the taking of the "wide-angle," or full-size-stage, scene. Much
+time can be saved by making the _different kinds_ of scenes
+separately. This explains why every scene and every kind of scene in
+the entire scenario _must_ be given a separate scene-number. The
+scenes in a photoplay may be likened to a cut-up picture puzzle, each
+part of which must be properly assembled and inserted in its proper
+place to make a complete, understandable picture.
+
+As has already been said, the bust picture in photoplay is like the
+spot-light in the regular theatre. It centres the spectator's
+attention on a certain object and holds it there until the important
+object is fully observed by the watcher. It "not only magnifies the
+objects, but it draws particular attention to them. Many points may be
+cleared in a five-foot bust picture which would require twenty to
+thirty feet of leader to explain, and the bust picture always
+interests. Sometimes in a newspaper illustration a circle surrounds
+some point of interest, or a cross marks where the body was
+discovered. The bust picture serves the same purpose, and answers, as
+well, for the descriptive caption that appears under a cut."[17]
+
+[Footnote 17: Epes Winthrop Sargent, _The Technique of the
+Photoplay_.]
+
+Bear in mind, then, that the introduction of a bust scene makes the
+succeeding portion of the action in that setting _another scene_, with
+its own consecutive number.
+
+In the past few years, the number of scenes to the reel has been
+almost doubled, in most studios; and this is due to the increased use
+of the close-up. The bust and the close-up are entirely separate in
+their utility and effect, yet, properly used, each has been found a
+valuable addition to the technical devices of photoplay construction.
+It is now frequently the practice of many directors to bring the
+camera nearer to a certain character, or group of characters, at some
+important point of the action for the sake of emphasizing facial
+expression or certain bits of "business" that are vitally essential to
+a proper understanding of the plot.
+
+This may be accomplished in three different ways--the method employed
+always depending upon the nature of the scene as well as of _the
+setting or location_. First, if the surroundings of the character at
+that stage of the action are important as having something to do with
+the "business" being carried out--if, for example, it is necessary to
+show, at close range, the actions of two characters who are seated at
+a table--the director has the camera moved down toward them, and that
+particular close-up, or series of close-ups, is taken usually, as has
+been said, after all the wide-angle scenes in that setting have been
+"done," for the obvious purpose of rendering unnecessary the frequent
+shifting of the camera.
+
+If, on the other hand, the director merely wishes to emphasize at
+certain points in any scene the facial expression of his players, as
+affected by the humorous, startling, or other emotional "business"
+incidental to the plot at that point, and if the surroundings of the
+character or characters may be indeterminate without detracting from
+the value of the scene, the player or players may be brought _nearer
+to the camera_, and the close-up may even be made with the subjects
+posed against a plain, dark background. This method of obtaining the
+close-up is frequently resorted to, and, it may be said, is not always
+truly "artistic," if seriously considered, inasmuch as it tends to
+detach the character from the surroundings of the scene, and make the
+result more than ever in the nature of a figure in the spot-light. We
+have seen many pictures, particularly those with female "stars"
+featured--as, for example, the Mary Pickford pictures--in which the
+action of a scene would be broken several times, and the head of the
+pretty "star" shown photographed against a plain, very dark
+background.
+
+The third method used in the studios is one which actually changes a
+wide-angle view into a close-up without breaking or interrupting the
+action in the slightest degree. This is accomplished by mounting the
+camera on a specially built platform on wheels--on a truck--which as a
+rule is operated on wooden tracks previously prepared to suit the
+action taking place in that set or location. Take for example the
+Babylonian setting (the principal Babylonian setting, that is) in the
+D.W. Griffith production, "Intolerance." When this scene is first
+thrown on the screen we see an immense open court, surrounded by
+banquet halls and long corridors, with walls reaching up to tremendous
+heights, the walls themselves banked with huge figures of heathen gods
+and images and great elephants, compared to which the human figures
+participating in the scene are mere pygmies. At the back of this
+enormous setting is a flight of steps, perhaps a hundred feet or more
+in width, upon which are probably a hundred girls going through the
+graceful motions of a religious dance. We are permitted, for several
+feet of film, to view the immensity and the grandeur of ancient
+Babylon in this wide-angle view. Then, smoothly and steadily, we
+approach the back of the set--the great flight of steps, with the
+dancing figures. Hundreds of details of architecture and sculpturing
+are unfolded as we draw nearer, and when the truck suddenly stops, we
+have a close-up of part of the steps with the dancing girls just
+finishing their performance.
+
+The point is, simply, that if a mere close-up of a certain character
+or group of characters is all that is desired, either of the two
+methods first explained is used. But if the director has an unusually
+beautiful and imposing setting which he wishes to show off, the moving
+truck, with the constantly turning camera, gives him exactly what he
+wants to show. Close-ups of this type may be likened to the more
+frequently used panoramic scenes--"panorams"--obtained in open-air
+work by mounting the camera on a train, an automobile, or some other
+moving vehicle. Another point is that the ordinary close-up, produced
+as first described, is the one most used because it does away with the
+footage consumed in the gradual-approach method.
+
+Suppose, now (following up the previous example of the use of the
+bust), that having shown Maud's hand holding up the broken-off point
+of what she believes to be her brother's knife, we go back to the
+wide-angle view of the room and show the two sisters together, and
+Maud casting the knife-point from her in horror. Let us imagine that
+they are supposed to suspect some other character--their brother, in
+fact--of having used the knife of which this is a part, to commit some
+crime. This character now comes into the room. We want to register
+certain expressions and, what is equally important, we want to isolate
+one character's expression from that of another, so that the eye and
+mind of the spectator will not be confused by the wide range of vision
+employed in the full--or wide-angle--scene. We show the brother as he
+comes into the room and stops, seeing the eyes of the two girls fixed
+upon him. How shall we isolate him? Not by the use of the bust, for
+the bust is now employed only to give a close view of an _inanimate
+object_. We use the close-up, and we write the scenes thus:
+
+
+42--Living room, same as 15.
+
+     Maud comes in to find Ethel staring at an object lying on
+     the window sill. She crosses and stares down at it also,
+     then, with a shudder, picks up--the knife-point!
+
+43--Bust of Maud's hand holding knife-point to show blood-stain in
+shape of rude star.
+
+44--Back to wide-angle of room.
+
+     Maud flings the knife-point from her in horror, then turns
+     to Ethel and clings to her. Both look towards door as Frank
+     enters. He advances a pace or two, sees them, and stops,
+     aghast.
+
+45--Close-up of Frank. His eyes suddenly drop, he sees the object
+lying on the floor, and, slowly, his hands go up over his eyes.
+
+46--Close-up of Maud and Ethel. Maud slowly turns to her sister with a
+question in her eyes--"Is he guilty?"--and bows her head, then looks
+up quickly and fixes her gaze on Frank.
+
+47--Close-up of Frank. With agony in his eyes, the boy protests his
+innocence. Suddenly he pauses, realizing that he is not making an
+impression.
+
+48--Back to wide-angle of room.
+
+     Both sisters are staring at Frank. Maud's look is one of
+     unmistakable accusation. She looks down at the floor. Frank
+     follows her gaze. Maud stoops, picks up the knife-point, and
+     holds it out towards him. He slowly advances and takes it
+     from her. He knows what they expect--what they demand!
+     Slowly, hesitatingly, he draws a pocket knife out of his
+     pocket. The sisters come closer, drawn magnetically by the
+     horrible thing they fear to see--the meeting of the knife
+     and the broken point.
+
+49--Close-up of Frank. A very close view to show him slowly opening
+the knife, the point of which is broken off. The other hand puts the
+bloodstained point to the broken blade. They match! They fit
+absolutely!
+
+50--Back to wide-angle of room.
+
+     With an anguished face the boy cries:
+
+_Leader_--"I DIDN'T!--OH! WON'T YOU BELIEVE ME?"
+
+_Back to scene_.
+
+     He sees a hardening of Maud's face. Silently his hands
+     unclench; the knife-point falls to the table. Then, with an
+     access of fear, he closes his knife, thrusts it into his
+     pocket, and rushes wildly out, while the two girls merely
+     stare after him, too horror-stricken to move, to follow.
+
+
+The foregoing is a good example of how "straight" action, all in one
+uninterrupted wide-angle scene, would not be half so convincing,
+dramatic or suspense-holding as the broken-up series of scenes, all in
+the same setting, all in the one situation. Incidentally, Scene 49
+shows very clearly the distinction between the bust and the close-up.
+This is a very close view of the boy's hands, but it cannot be called
+a bust because of the fact that it is an action scene. The close-up
+compares with the bust in much the same way that any painting with
+supposedly human, moving figures compares with those pictures which
+come under the "still life" classification.
+
+This illustration of the use of the bust and the close-up is taken
+from an actual script, prepared by one of the Vitagraph Company's
+staff writers. It will be noticed that the "description" of the scene
+following the bust scene is "44--Back to wide-angle of room," instead
+of "44--Back to 42," which it would have been had this Vitagraph
+writer followed the same rules of technique as were used by the writer
+of the script from which the example on page 159 was taken. The
+Vitagraph writer follows the same rule in writing the description of
+close-up scenes, also. Either form is correct, and it is optional
+which you use. There are certain technical terms as well as methods of
+writing for which there are no hard and fast rules, and this accounts
+for the fact that some writers will say "leader" when others use the
+term "sub-title," and so on.[18]
+
+[Footnote 18: Compare the Vitagraph-made working scenario in Chapter
+XX with the one-reel scenario reproduced in Chapter V.]
+
+Shortly before one of the present writers was appointed scenario
+editor for the Edison Company, Mr. Bannister Merwin, who for several
+years was one of Edison's chief contributing writers, gave up his work
+in this country and went to England to live. He is now active in the
+British film world and also a director--or "producer," as Mr. Merwin
+still calls it--for one of the largest English motion picture
+manufacturers. The present writer found that Mr. Merwin's work had
+left a considerable impression upon the methods of work of the various
+Edison directors, and, indeed, he has always been regarded as one of
+the leading authorities on photoplay technique. The three paragraphs
+which follow are taken from a letter written by Mr. Merwin to Mr. Epes
+Winthrop Sargent, and published in _The Moving Picture World_. Several
+important points in connection with the scenario are briefly but
+interestingly discussed. In connection with what we have just been
+discussing--the close-up--it may be said that, as Mr. Merwin himself
+says, all writers make use of the close-up at certain points of
+different scenes; but what this author-director says in addition may
+be taken as another warning against the _over-use_ of this effective
+technical device:
+
+"My present notion of the best construction for long feature stories
+follows somewhat the lines of the stage play. The line of climactic
+development should be a series of ascending waves. After each crisis
+or climax there should be a slight lull. And the first few hundred
+feet, like the first ten minutes of a play, should be devoted to
+getting your audience acquainted with your characters and their
+relationships. To place a very important action in the first few
+hundred feet before the audience knows who the characters are or what
+they are to one another tends to create confusion. People will later
+say, 'Oh, was _he_ the one who did that?' Of course the characters
+must do things in these first few hundred feet, but they should be
+things that express their characters interestingly rather than things
+that have important significance in the plot development. Perhaps I
+put the point a little too strongly, for there are always exceptions,
+but you will know what I mean.
+
+"The thing is to look at one's own work from the viewpoint of the
+audience, and continually ask one's self such questions as, 'Is it
+clear? Can I follow it without confusion of mind? Does it constantly
+keep my interest stimulated?'
+
+"Now the question of breaking one's scenes with close-ups and varied
+shots from different angles. Of course, we all do this in preparing
+our scripts. But lately I have wondered whether it would not be better
+to leave the breaking up of the scene to the producer, except in very
+obvious cases. You see, I am now speaking as a producer as well as a
+writer. The value of the close-up almost always is governed in
+practice by floor conditions. I mean by this several things. For one
+thing, if the cast is not the ideal cast you have had in mind when
+writing the play the character you have set down for a close-up may
+not be able to express what it is essential to express in that
+particular close-up. The producer must then find some other means of
+punctuating the situation. For another thing, no producer is likely to
+build a set and handle his people in it in exactly the way you have
+conceived. For that matter, no two producers are likely to handle the
+set and the characters in the same way. It follows that very often the
+producer can secure a natural close-up in the course of the action
+where you have called for a special close-up scene. And on the other
+hand the producer may find that he needs a special close-up scene at a
+point where your conception of the movements of the characters has not
+made it appear necessary. Anyhow, the close-up is an interpretation.
+If, as I hold, the producer is an interpreter, would it not be better
+to leave this matter of close-ups to him, and write your scene
+straight, with emphasis on the points that should be brought out most
+strongly? I don't say that this surmise is right; I merely am
+wondering. In any event, we do not want to see the close-up overdone.
+We don't want too much of the Griffith staccato. It leads to what a
+certain friend of mine once called Tom Lawson's method of
+muck-raking--'The method of universal emphasis.'"
+
+It is interesting to note in the first paragraph of the quotation from
+Mr. Merwin's letter that he advocates giving, in most pictures, "the
+first few hundred feet" to a proper introduction of the characters and
+to laying the foundation, as it were, for the story proper. This is in
+marked contrast to the method of a few years ago, when one-reel
+pictures were the rule, and when very little footage could be spared
+for such introductory scenes. Today, with very much longer pictures,
+there is no excuse for any writer's ever feeling himself cramped for
+room in which to make clear everything that the spectator ought to
+know in connection with his characters and his plot.
+
+Finally, in connection with the _story_, as written by you, and the
+_picture_, as put on by the director, we again quote Mr. Sargent:
+
+"If you _need_ a close-up, write it in, numbering it as a separate
+scene. If you do not need a close-up, don't write one in, even though
+you see innumerable close-ups used. Let the director make these as his
+fancy or judgment may dictate. He can see just where and how the use
+of the close-up can help the _pictorial_ quality of the picture. You
+are apt to concern yourself only with the narrative value of the
+close-up, employing it only where it is necessary in order to get the
+_story_ over clearly. You cannot possibly imagine the scene exactly as
+it will be set up or played, therefore you cannot tell where and how
+_pictorial_ close-ups or other effects will be useful. Leave that to
+the director and he will handle the numbering according to his special
+system. Number _your own_ close-ups, because they are separate scenes
+even though they are in reality a part of other scenes."
+
+What this critic means by the director's "special system" of handling
+the numbering of close-ups that he may decide to use after the story
+has been placed in his hands is simply that such added close-ups will
+be inserted into the working script in this manner (40 and 41 being
+your original scene numbering):
+
+40--(a) Henderson steps forward to give his prisoner
+    a better view of his face.
+
+    (b) Close-up of Trask and Henderson. In the
+    stronger light, Trask recognizes his old enemy
+    and his face is convulsed with hate.
+
+    (c) Henderson steps back, laughs, and holds out
+    the handcuffs, etc.
+
+41--This scene as originally written.
+
+It will be seen that the action contained in (b) is the inserted
+close-up action. In what remains (c) we get the end of the scene as
+written by the author.
+
+
+_13. Visions, Memories, Dreams, and Other Devices_
+
+We have already referred to the old method of obtaining certain
+effects in so-called fairy-tale pictures by "stop-camera" work, or by
+simply stopping the character at a certain point just prior to the
+scheduled appearance of some supernatural visitant, having the other
+characters hold their positions while the witch or the fairy character
+walks into the scene and takes her proper position in it, and then
+starting the camera again, the result on the screen being that the
+supernatural figure stands, in the fraction of a second, where nothing
+of the kind appeared before. Today, stop-camera work is used very
+seldom--as a rule only to obtain ludicrously sudden and unexpected
+effects in certain types of "slap-stick" comedy. A far more artistic
+effect, when it is desired to introduce visitors from other worlds, is
+obtained by "superimposure," or by taking the picture twice, as it
+were. On the first "take" the characters go through the business
+already rehearsed, and the director keeps careful track of just when
+each important move is made by counting while the cameraman turns the
+crank. If, at the count of "Eleven!" one character registers surprise
+and points excitedly at an unoccupied corner of the room, it is the
+first step in introducing the fairy, or the spectre, who is to appear
+there in the picture as shown on the screen. After the scene has been
+gone through with, following this rule, the film is run through the
+camera a second time, the "stage" being empty of players up to the
+count of "Eleven!" at which point the unearthly-visitor character is
+brought into the scene at the proper place in the setting, either
+appearing quite suddenly or being more gradually dissolved in,
+different studios having different methods of accomplishing this. The
+point is that visions of this kind are obviously written into the
+scene proper, just as you would introduce any new character. If it is
+a ghostly visitor of some kind, you simply say: "Harding looks in
+horror (at whatever point of the room or location you desire). Vision
+of Blake, standing quite still and pointing an accusing finger at
+Harding." Or, if Tom is in the city and has reason to believe that
+Frank, back on the farm, is taking advantage of his friend's absence
+to win his sweetheart away from him, write the scene down to the point
+where Tom straightens up in his office chair and stares (perhaps
+directly into the camera) with a worried expression, and then say:
+"Vision-in portion of the apple orchard, with Frank making love to
+Mary as they stand beneath one of the trees."
+
+Everyone who has attended the motion picture theatres has seen dozens
+of examples of "visions," produced in one or another manner, and it
+should be easy to distinguish between "visions" and "thoughts" or
+"memories." The latter _may_ be introduced as part of another scene
+just as the vision (using the word in the sense of "apparition" or
+"supernatural visitant") is introduced; but it must be borne in mind
+that the photoplay spectators have in the past few years been
+gradually educated up to a rather perfect comprehension of what
+results different technical devices produce--even if they do not quite
+understand the technical why and wherefore; and for this reason it is
+best when writing action in which the characters are supposed to show
+what they are thinking about or describing to use the fade-out and
+fade-in device, as the meaning of this is now very clearly understood.
+The spectators are quite used to seeing the picture fade out, or "go
+black" at the end of certain scenes, just as they are familiar with
+the use of it at the actual end of the photoplay. Apart from these two
+uses, they have come to associate the fade-out with the thought of
+the immediate introduction of a "memory," either related to others or
+silently indulged in, or a mere thought, or, if the character is seen
+going to sleep, of a "dream."
+
+If the fade-out is used, it means three scenes instead of one, of
+course, because following the introduction of the "memory," or
+whatever it may be, you return to the scene proper, just as you go
+back to the wide-angle view after using a bust or a close-up scene.
+They would be numbered, for example, 17, 18 and 19, and you would
+write the action as follows:
+
+17--Library, same as 6.
+
+     Fenton continues to make love to Beverly, presently ending
+     what he is saying with an impassioned plea to fly with him
+     at once. For just a moment she seems on the point of
+     yielding; then she starts back and shows that she is
+     thinking of what it would mean. (Fade out into--)
+
+18--Bedroom, same as 8.
+
+     Dean, lying in bed, wakes up and calls out, as if calling to
+     his wife. Then he falls back again on the pillow, exhausted.
+     (Fade back to--)
+
+19--Back to 17.
+
+     Fenton reaches out to grasp Beverly's hand, but she draws
+     quickly back and urges him to stop pleading with her, at the
+     same time crossing etc.
+
+If you are using the "dissolve" or "interpose" (see definitions in
+Chapter III) you introduce the device in the same way as above; but
+bear in mind that the dissolve is somewhat harder to accomplish than
+the fade, and, again, while it merges one scene into another in an
+artistically beautiful manner, it is not so readily recognized by the
+spectator as an announcement, so to speak, of what is to follow.
+
+The diaphragm (in or out), as the definition in Chapter III states, is
+used to indicate a lapse of time in the action of a story without
+using a leader. Also, in scenes between which there is supposed to be
+only a very brief interval, but which nevertheless call for a definite
+break of thought, the diaphragm is resorted to. Some directors will
+say "Circle out!" that being the effect on the screen--the oblong
+picture changing to a circle, which gradually becomes smaller and
+smaller until the diaphragm of the camera is entirely closed and the
+film "goes black." The reverse of this, of course, is called
+"diaphragming in."
+
+As several critics have pointed out, the fade and the diaphragm should
+never be used to denote synchronized action. Action occurring in two
+places at practically the same moment should be cut one into the
+other, for this is the primary function of the cut-back. At no time
+should the diaphragm be used in this connection, either as a means of
+fading out or to reduce the field, for this robs the action of any
+suggestion of immediate change. Here the use of cutting back is
+imperative, and no other device should be substituted.
+
+As has been indicated, photoplay terminology is, even yet, only in
+process of formation. The terms given and defined in Chapter III are
+the terms in common daily use in the majority of studios, but there
+is no ancient precedent to compel any writer to adhere to any of
+these terms if he is in the habit of using others. There is too great
+a disposition on the part of amateur writers to split hairs over the
+correct technical term. A matter of far more importance is to turn out
+a good story.
+
+
+_14. Camera Tricks and Special Effects_
+
+With the way most trick-effects are produced in the studio the average
+writer need be little concerned except as a matter of interest.[19]
+The object of discussing them here is to show how certain plots, or
+parts of plots, are made possible as a result of knowing how these
+things _may_ be accomplished, whereas without this knowledge the
+writer with a good idea might fear to include it in his story in the
+belief that it was impossible of production. It may be remarked that
+what is said here has a bearing on Chapter XV, in which is discussed
+the matter of expense in picture production. Some of the very
+companies who a few years ago were warning the beginning writer
+against introducing action that would necessitate too great an outlay
+of money are today producing features seemingly regardless of expense.
+Yet most concerns are really exercising a wise economy and getting
+some wonderful results with cleverly planned trick-camera work.
+
+[Footnote 19: See Homer Croy's _How Motion Pictures Are Made_.]
+
+For example, in one episode of the Wharton serial, "The Eagle's Eye,"
+the German conspirators in New York, seeking to injure the cause of
+the Allies and lay the blame on the American 'longshoremen at the same
+time, arrange to have a train of freight cars, crossing on barges from
+Manhattan to Jersey, dumped into the North River by removing the means
+by which they are held in place on the tracks of the barge and
+"letting 'em slide." The effect on the screen is wonderfully like what
+a long-range photograph of such an actual event would show. All that
+was needed to produce the scene was a tank of water with a miniature
+barge pushed along by a tiny tug-boat, the latter steaming up very
+realistically. When the toy barge and tug-boat were right in the
+middle of the "stage," three or four toy freight cars were allowed to
+slide off into the water. Above the tank, as a background, was hung
+some white or light colored cloth, making everything from the
+waterline up a white blank. Against this blank was superimposed, by
+running the film through the camera twice, a picture of the New York
+sky-line as seen from the Jersey shore. The unruffled surface of the
+water in the tank--so unlike the wavy North River--was almost the only
+thing to show certain of the spectators that the scene was not the
+real thing. In another episode of the same serial, after the German
+spies have caused an Allied grain ship to be loaded on one side only,
+so that she will turn turtle as soon as released from her moorings,
+another very realistic scene shows the ship actually turning over, as
+much as the comparative narrowness of the slip will let her, after
+they have cut the ropes holding her to the dock. Here, again, a model
+vessel in a built-up miniature slip supplied the means of obtaining a
+startlingly realistic effect. The scene lasted only a few seconds, so
+that little opportunity was given the spectator to see how it was
+worked, but the effect of the brief scene was very convincing.
+
+In scores of feature productions models or miniatures of various kinds
+have been resorted to to obtain startling or novel effects, and have
+saved the outlay of thousands of dollars in the production of certain
+pictures. Double photography, or superimposure, is a ready ally when
+the director wants to get an effect showing a specially arranged
+fictitious scene played against a real and frequently well-known
+background, as in the North River scene just described. In the same
+picture, "The Eagle's Eye," the Whartons, who produced it, displayed a
+new feature in photography--a genuine photographic device rather than
+a trick--in what they described as "the triple iris"--three diaphragms
+opening at once and disclosing the heads of Boy-Ed, Von Papen and Dr.
+Albert, and then fading and showing a scene in which these three
+characters were seen grouped in conversation.
+
+Another effect which might, perhaps, be classed as a trick was used in
+the Mary Pickford feature, "Amarilly of Clothes-line Alley." It was in
+reality merely a clever scene intended to take the place of a leader,
+while being also an improvement on a leader because of the fact that
+to almost everyone in the audience it instantly "put over" the idea
+back of the action at that point of the story. At the time that
+Amarilly's good-hearted but socially impossible mother, with her
+little brothers and sisters, are being entertained by the rich
+hostess who desires to shame the little girl from the tenements in the
+eyes of her son, there is flashed on the screen, against a dark
+background, an empty glass gold-fish bowl with the fish themselves
+wriggling and gasping on the table beside it. The idea of "fish out of
+water" was very apparent to the spectators. Later, when the
+tenement-bred family had returned to their humble home, another
+picture showed the gold-fish contentedly swimming about in a
+well-filled bowl. It is such an effect as this that any clever writer
+might think of suggesting in his scenario, and it is legitimate in
+every way--far more so, in fact, than some of the tricks of
+diaphragming and fading so frequently made use of by certain
+directors.
+
+A startlingly novel effect was shown some time ago in the Vitagraph
+Company's production of Arthur Stringer's story, "Mortmain." Just as
+Mortmain was put under ether the scene proper faded out, giving place
+to a dull blur in which the faces of the doctor and his attendants
+were brought right up to the lens of the camera and then withdrawn for
+several feet, the action being extremely rapid, and being repeated
+several times, by means of the camera mounted on a truck, as already
+described. This was accompanied by another dark-background strip of
+film, across--or rather down--which shot fiery streaks, like the tails
+of discharging sky-rockets. The whole effect of anaesthesia was vividly
+reproduced, and the effect on the audience was most marked. The idea
+of what Mortmain experienced in his last conscious moments "got
+across" in no uncertain way. Especially startling and realistic--to
+those who have been there--was the effect of the patient's feeling
+himself dropping, dropping, dropping through space into--oblivion.
+
+It is extremely unlikely that this work will be made use of by anyone
+who has not visited the picture theatres often enough to have seen ten
+times as many camera tricks, special effects, and examples of the use
+of different technical devices as are herein described. But if you
+_are_ taking up photoplay writing without having seen many photoplays
+on the screen, you are but half equipped, notwithstanding all the help
+you may receive through text-books and trade-journal articles. In
+other words, we urge upon you the wisdom of keeping in mind that the
+real finishing school for screen writers is the picture theatre
+itself.
+
+
+_15. Dual-Character Double Exposures_
+
+Undoubtedly, the gradual perfecting of the double exposure
+(superimposure) device in motion-picture making has made possible the
+screening of innumerable good stories which would otherwise have been
+almost impossible of production. When only a few years ago the
+Vitagraph Company made their very creditable production of Charles
+Dickens's "A Tale of Two Cities," the two leading male characters,
+Sidney Carton and Charles Darnley, were played by two different
+actors--the final action of the plot turning on the fact that these
+two were "doubles," for this fact makes possible Sidney Carton's
+supreme sacrifice for his friend and the woman he loves. There was a
+fairly close facial resemblance between the two actors who played
+these parts--enough, with the aid of the wigs they wore and other
+make-up, to make the picture convincing. Today, no director would
+think of putting on such a picture with two different actors in the
+dual roles of Carton and Darnley. When, in 1917, the Dickens classic
+was released as a William Fox feature, William Farnum played both
+roles, and some really remarkable results were obtained in scenes
+where both characters were present at the same time. Almost everyone
+has seen pictures containing examples of the possibilities offered by
+double exposure in making pictures of this nature.
+
+In the first place, when two characters are supposed to be "doubles,"
+it is certainly more convincing to have one player portray both roles.
+Again, any additional trouble that is attached to making pictures of
+this kind, on account of the double exposures involved, is confined to
+those scenes in which both characters are present in the scene at the
+same time, and even then the difficulty is minimized by the use of
+close-ups.
+
+For example, to show Carton in one scene where Darnley is not present
+is simply to take an ordinary scene in an ordinary way. Then, suppose
+you wish to show Carton seated in a chair at one side of the room
+while Darnley leaning against the table at the other side of the room
+talks with him. In pictures of this kind the director frequently uses
+more close-ups than usual merely to avoid the necessity of making
+double exposures, in connection with which the greatest trouble is
+always the keeping track--by counting, for instance--of the moves of
+the two different characters. But it is a much easier matter for the
+dual-role actor, made up as Carton, to be photographed singly in one
+part of the room as he goes through with the action of one or more
+scenes, after which, dressed as Darnley, he goes through the
+synchronized action of that character. Synchronization--or harmony of
+movement in time--of course demands that the action of both characters
+be properly matched--to use a common and easily understood term--but
+it will be seen that when the spectator watches only one character at
+a time there is not the need for the _perfect_ synchronization of
+action that is always demanded of the wide-angle double-exposure
+scene, in which one man, playing two different characters, must face
+himself and keep the action natural and convincing at all times.
+
+Very few things in the development of motion picture art have advanced
+so noticeably as this trick of portraying dual characters on the
+screen by means of double exposure of the film. Theoretically,
+it is extremely simple. There is a middle--or at any rate an
+arbitrary--dividing line to the stage. A mask being placed over
+one-half of the camera lens, the film is run through and the action of
+Carton in a certain scene in which he is supposed to face Darnley is
+taken. Careful track is kept of just what important moves he makes at
+different stages of the count. Later, after he is made up as Darnley,
+the first half of the lens is masked in the same way as before, while
+the second half is exposed and the action of Darnley is gone through
+with, with the gestures and other action properly timed to
+synchronize with the action of his "double"--and that is all there is
+to do. But the skill of the director is tested in his timing of the
+moves of the characters, just as his knowledge of lighting and
+backgrounds is tested so as to avoid showing the line where the two
+differently exposed parts of the film join. Then, too, certain
+directors have, of late, procured some "double" effects which well
+deserve to be called wonderful, as when in a certain William Fox film
+the two different characters, played by the one woman, are made to
+meet and kiss each other most naturally.
+
+To repeat, double exposure (to use the simplest term for this camera
+trick) has made possible the writing of many stories for the screen
+which a few years ago would have been rejected because of the
+inability of the company to procure two people similar enough in
+appearance successfully to portray the "doubles." No author with a
+really fine idea for a dual-character story need hesitate to offer it
+to the film companies today. But there is still enough additional
+trouble attached to the production of this kind of story to justify
+the editors in rejecting everything but the very best in the way of
+plots.
+
+
+_16. Features_
+
+The most surprising thing, when one looks back and considers the
+single-reel stories of a few years ago, is that a complete, logically
+told story could ever have been produced in one thousand feet of film,
+part of which was consumed by sub-titles and inserts. Of course, the
+sub-titles and inserts _helped_ to tell the story in those days, just
+as they do now, but even so, the comparatively small amount of footage
+allowed to each picture seems even less than it actually was in the
+light of the five- to eight-thousand feet and more to which we expect
+feature pictures to run today.
+
+The fact remains, however, that for several years one-reel pictures
+were the rule; and a still more important fact, considered from the
+standpoint of the writer, is that many--a great many--of the stories
+that were then confined to one thousand feet of film were far better
+_stories_, if not quite so pleasing as _pictures_, than many that are
+now being put out in lengths of five-thousand feet or more and labeled
+as features.
+
+The reason is clear; there simply could not be a clearer or more
+undeniable reason: When a story had to be told in one thousand
+feet--perhaps a few feet less than that, but never a foot more--it had
+to be _all story_, all meat. "Padding" was a thing quite unknown in
+1909. The wonder was that so much story could be crowded into so few
+feet of film. Good as was the Famous Players five-reel production of
+Dumas' "Monte Cristo"--judged by the standards of the year in which it
+was released--a great many people who saw it were struck by the fact
+that this feature production had very little more actual story in it
+than had the carefully condensed one-reel version of the same
+novel-play that was put out by the Selig Company in 1908. What it did
+have was more detail, and a great deal more opportunity for pictorial
+effects. The one-reel Selig release gave every essential detail of
+the romance, with the necessary explanatory inserts in the way of
+leaders, letters, etc. The Famous Players feature production gave
+the essential details plus innumerable details that were by no
+means essential--although very effective as helps to a better
+understanding of the locale, the period in history, and the author's
+characterization.
+
+The Famous Players "Monte Cristo," however, was not, at any point,
+"padded." It might have been two reels longer--and probably would have
+been three reels longer had it been produced a little later--without
+giving too much of the wealth of picture-material contained in the
+complete story of Edmond Dantes. We mention these two pictures solely
+for the purpose of drawing a comparison between the kind of stories
+put out in 1908 and those that were beginning to appear about six
+years later. But "padding"--the filling up of the picture with
+non-essential and often very extraneous details or pictorial
+effects--has steadily increased with the yearly increase of the
+so-called "features," and has unquestionably been responsible for the
+falling-off in interest among countless former photoplay "fans." They
+have gone into the theatres expecting to see a "big star" in a "big
+story"--and have come out after having seen only the "big star." Just
+who is responsible for this very unsatisfactory state of affairs it is
+sometimes hard to say. Occasionally the story, if written by an
+"outside" writer, is lacking in plot-material in the first place, and,
+having been purchased on account of its having, none the less, several
+good situations, is allowed to go into production without being built
+up in plot (which is quite another thing from "padding") by one of the
+studio staff-writers. Or it may be that, the logical length of that
+particular story being five thousand feet, the director lets it run on
+for another reel, or even two, in order to be able to work in several
+hundred feet of quite unnecessary close-ups of the female "lead," who
+chances to be his wife, and whose popularity he is naturally anxious
+to maintain. This actually has happened; but even a conscientious and
+otherwise artistic director may occasionally "stretch a picture out a
+little" in order to take advantage of the beautiful natural locations
+of the part of the country in which he is working.
+
+All these things being so, it becomes more and more the duty of the
+author to see that his story _has_ plenty of _story_. Give the
+director a strong, well-developed plot and he will have far less
+opportunity and much less excuse for introducing anything that will be
+in the nature of padding. Moreover, so evident is it that photoplay
+audiences have come to recognize the padded story when one is shown,
+that the producers have started to call a halt on this foolish
+practice, and as a result stories accepted from the outside are
+closely scrutinized to see if they are full length in actual material.
+
+So far as any special rules in connection with the writing of the
+feature picture is concerned, there are really none--unless the
+admonition to try to make a five-reel story five times as interesting
+and five times as cleverly plotted as a one-reel story may be called
+a rule. In other words, the writer who can turn out a salable
+synopsis for a one-reel story ought to be able to write an equally
+good synopsis for a five-reel feature; and similarly, if you can write
+the continuity for a one-reel story--if you can write a single-reel
+scenario of the kind that would have been acceptable in any studio a
+few years ago--you undoubtedly can write a five-reel continuity that
+is up to the technical standard demanded by those companies that
+accept complete scripts today. And of course the same applies to the
+"synopsis only" script.
+
+The one thing that you cannot do, unless you are actually on the staff
+of a certain company, is obvious, and has been referred to in the
+chapter on "The Synopsis": You cannot write any story with the
+certainty that it will be entirely unchanged after being accepted for
+production. Any one of a dozen very good reasons may demand that some
+alteration, addition to or elimination of certain scenes or parts of
+scenes in your story must take place while it is in the director's
+hands. There is a vast difference between the necessary changes
+carefully made by an artistic and painstaking director and the
+indiscriminate slashing to pieces of a writer's story common among a
+certain variety of directors in the past. Fortunately for the writer,
+this class of director is rapidly being outlawed, and the
+photoplaywright should write at all times in the confident belief that
+his perfect-as-he-can-make-it story will be adequately "put on" by a
+director who knows his business and is, as Mr. Merwin says, an
+interpreter of the author's plot.
+
+We need only repeat here one other thing that we said in Chapter VIII:
+No matter what the length of the story, today, it is always run
+through--in all but the very smallest and most out-of-the-way theatres
+and towns respectively--without interruption, because two projecting
+machines are used, and another reel is started as soon as one
+finishes, there being no perceptible break in the action on the
+screen. For this reason, if you are writing a five-reel feature-story
+with, say, forty scenes to a reel, you start with Scene 1 and number
+straight through to Scene 200. There should be a series of rising
+climaxes, but no special forward-looking climax exactly at the end of
+each thousand feet.
+
+Also, of course, it is quite unnecessary to have an equal number of
+scenes to each part. The action of your first reel--more or less
+introductory--may demand only thirty or thirty-five scenes, whereas
+when your story gets to moving rapidly you may see the necessity for
+running up the number of scenes by introducing several short scenes,
+or "flashes."
+
+
+_17. Serials_
+
+We advise a rereading of the definition of the term "serials" given in
+Chapter III. In addition to what is there said, it may be stated that,
+as a rule, it is best not to write a complete serial--even though only
+in synopsis form--unless you have what is beyond question a sure
+market. As a matter of fact, most serials are written at present by
+big-name writers of fiction--such as Arthur B. Reeve--or "inside"
+writers, such as George B. Seitz, who has been responsible for
+several successful Pathe serials. The comparatively few "outside"
+writers who have "made good" with serials follow the plan of writing
+the synopsis of the first four or five episodes (which in film form
+would mean eight or ten reels), which they submit for the editor's
+approval in the regular way. If the editor likes the idea, or theme,
+of the story, and thinks it would make a successful picture, he will
+commission you to finish it. Four or five episodes of well-planned,
+suspense-holding plot will be sufficient to assure him that you are
+capable of keeping up the same speed and making the story consistently
+interesting all through.
+
+To reiterate what was also pointed out in the definition in Chapter
+III, you must bear in mind that while the end of each separate reel in
+an ordinary feature need not end with a forward-looking climax, the
+end of each _episode_ in a photoplay serial _must_ be a climax of a
+most thrilling nature, or, at any rate, must be such a climax as will
+greatly excite the interest of the spectator and insure his coming to
+the theatre when the next episode is shown. The serial photoplay is
+exactly like the well-written and carefully edited serial story of
+fiction. Judged from the box-office viewpoint, the supreme test of a
+good photoplay serial is its ability to keep the same spectators
+coming to the theatre where it is being run week after week.
+
+What has been said as to the thrilling climax at the end of each
+episode, or chapter, must not be interpreted as meaning that a mere
+thrilling _situation_ is all that is required. In the boys'
+story-papers of a few years ago, referred to in our discussion of the
+cut-back, the hero was frequently left hanging over the edge of the
+cliff, or tied to the railroad track, or waiting for the timed fuse to
+reach the keg of powder. These situations in themselves were
+sufficient to make juvenile readers wait anxiously for seven whole
+days in order to find out what would happen "in our next." It has been
+demonstrated, however, that what holds the attention of the photoplay
+spectator, young or old, is the mystery connected with the story, and
+it is the solving of this mystery that must constantly be kept in
+mind. "Who is the masked stranger?" "Who is the owner of the
+mysterious clutching hand," "Who is the mysterious and ominous
+personage who inevitably sends a telephone message of warning when
+about to strike down a new victim?" These are the questions that keep
+them guessing from week to week and draw them back to witness every
+episode. Your climax may be a thrilling situation--should be, in
+fact--but it must also be a definite way-station on the journey to the
+point of discovery.
+
+While there is still a great deal of absolute nonsense--viewed from
+any standpoint of common sense and logic--in most photoplay serials,
+and while the long-drawn-out mystery is often made possible only by
+the introduction of weird and unnatural happenings not even possible
+in real life, there is now a tendency toward serials more true to life
+and more dependent for their success upon plots that will stand the
+acid test of logical reasoning. The very fact that each separate
+episode, with its various situations in the working out of the
+mystery, had to be depended upon to draw the crowds back again to see
+the next episode, was taken as sufficient excuse for the introduction
+of situations that would make the wildest exploits of "Diamond Dick"
+or "Old King Brady" read like the Sunday-school stories of a
+generation ago.
+
+The Wharton serial, "The Eagle's Eye," already referred to, was the
+first in which historical facts were reproduced in their logical
+order, held together and made more interesting by a veneer of fiction.
+The fictional head of the Criminology Club and the daring woman Secret
+Service operative seemed almost to be secondary characters compared to
+the much-talked-about agents of the Imperial German Government whose
+nefarious acts made so much trouble for the American detectives and
+Secret Service agents headed by ex-Chief Flynn, under whose
+supervision the serial was made.
+
+The future holds out immense possibilities for producers and writers
+of thoroughly good photoplay serials. Whereas in the past many serials
+were to be seen only in the second-rate houses, on account of the fact
+that their impossibly thrilling situations and weird plots appealed
+only to the juvenile and less intelligent spectators, now with the
+improvement in the _stories_ of serial pictures has come an increase
+in the spectators who follow them up, and a consequent introduction of
+serials into theatres where at one time nothing of the kind would have
+been tolerated.
+
+In conclusion, it may be said that for purposes of plot-study the
+photoplay serial can hardly be surpassed. Good, bad or indifferent,
+every photoplay serial reveals a sheer ingenuity of plotting that is a
+genuine inspiration to the writer of often better material. And a
+careful following-up and study of a _good_ serial is a liberal
+photoplay-writing education in itself.
+
+
+_18. Final Points_
+
+More and more, in those--all too few--studios where full scripts are
+desired, the directors of ability and intelligence are welcoming the
+help extended by the author--if the author himself is known to be a
+finished workman. Elsewhere we have quoted Mr. Bannister Merwin, who,
+long before he became one himself, held that the director was
+rightfully an interpreter--a reader of and builder from the blue
+print--of the author. Mr. Merwin was also one of the first
+photoplaywrights to submit what might be called a fully elaborated
+script--one in which every scene was so carefully worked out that the
+_motive_ behind every action of every character was made absolutely
+plain. Notwithstanding the greater length of such a scenario, or
+continuity, its advantages are emphatic, and directors are, as has
+been said, approving it more and more as they learn that the author's
+intention is to assist--to insure a proper interpretation of his
+thought--and not merely to try to teach the director his business. The
+script that opens up a way into the very heart of the character so
+that the actors and the director may be guided in interpreting it, is
+certainly vastly superior, in that regard at least, to the scenario
+which concerns itself chiefly with external action. Motives and the
+whole inner life of the man, set down clearly and briefly, are in the
+last degree valuable in showing what a character really is and _why_
+he does what he does.
+
+_Conciseness._--But this desirable sort of scenario elaboration
+MUST NOT lead to over-expansion. Brevity and conciseness are
+not necessarily one, any more than are fullness and prolixity. Be
+concise--cut close to the line; having started your action by setting
+forth a basic incident at once interesting and plausible, keep the
+wheels of your story in motion, letting it accumulate speed as it runs
+on, and never slow down until after the climax has been passed. Keep
+your eye--your "picture eye"--on your characters as they move about
+and carry out the actions which you have planned to have them perform;
+but describe those actions, as well as the motives which actuate them,
+in just as few words as possible. Do not trifle with the tendency to
+be wordy, or even to introduce too many scenes.
+
+The time is rapidly coming when the production of a photoplay will
+mean the earnest and intelligent cooeperation of the author, editor,
+and director. But there is a very decided difference between including
+in the paragraphs of action everything really necessary to the proper
+understanding of the motives actuating the different characters and
+the indiscriminate introduction of extraneous details that neither
+assist in telling the story nor help in making it interesting.
+
+_Over-Condensation._--On the other side of the golden middle-ground
+lies the weakness of too great brevity, and this is the very fault
+that some otherwise good writers at times permit themselves to
+display. Their plots are strong, and their work is so well and
+favorably known that their scripts are accepted; but because they have
+over-condensed it becomes necessary for the editor or director to add
+to the business of a certain character, or possibly to devise
+explanatory inserts. Too little is worse than too much. In many cases
+it is the writer's failure to include a few words describing a bit of
+by-play or a short piece of business that makes the scenario faulty,
+even though it may find a grudging acceptance.
+
+_The Number of Words._--The question has frequently been asked by
+amateur writers: "How many words are there in a full-reel
+photoplay--what is the average number of words to a scene?" and so on.
+No such consideration as the number of words in a script enters into
+the production of a motion-picture drama. "Photoplays are put on,"
+said one prominent producer, "with a stop-watch in one hand and a
+yard-stick in the other." It is the number of feet of film used, and
+not the number of words contained in the scenario, with which the
+director is concerned. There can be absolutely no set rule--in from
+ten to fifteen words you may say all that is necessary in the
+description of a scene that will use up three hundred feet of film.
+Another scene which consumes one hundred feet may require five times
+as many words, or more, to make perfectly clear to the director a
+short but very important bit of business. If you leave out the
+non-essentials, you will save on the number of words, but you should
+never hesitate to tell all that is necessary in order to make clear
+the motives and actions of your characters.
+
+_Simple, Clear English._--The scenario is really nothing more than the
+synopsis rewritten in detail and divided into scenes. Observe that the
+paragraphs of action are written in the present tense to help YOU keep
+the action simple and vivid and PRESENT. Absolutely nothing is to be
+gained by attempted "fine writing," yet it is true that the best-paid
+writers today are for the most part the ones who are giving attention
+to clearness and precision of detail and description when writing the
+third division of their scripts. But description does not mean
+hifaluting word painting--_it means clear, concise setting forth of
+exactly what a thing is_.
+
+_The Uselessness of Dialogue._--Dialogue, naturally, is out of place
+in the scenario. If Frank asks Ethel where she hid the letter, and she
+replies by opening a volume which she takes from the bookcase and
+taking it out, that is all that is necessary. Do not write a line of
+dialogue which tells just what Frank says to her, except as may be
+required for an occasional cut-in leader. Neither is it necessary to
+say what words of hers accompany the action of taking the letter from
+the book where it has been concealed. Yet there is one way in which
+dialogue may serve a useful purpose in writing the scenario. If by
+writing a single phrase you can tell the _editor_ and the _director_
+as much as you could by writing several lines of action, there is no
+reason why you should not use the line--not as dialogue, however, but
+as stage directions.[20]
+
+[Footnote 20: Note the introduction of occasional bits of dialogue in
+the "action" portion of the O. Henry story in Chapter XX.]
+
+_Exterior Backgrounds Valuable._--In planning your scenario remember
+that for scenes that do not positively demand indoor settings it is
+best to provide an exterior background, or location. No matter how
+well provided with scenery a studio may be there is always a certain
+amount of time lost in erecting sets. Even though the director does
+not take the scenes in the order in which they are written, he will be
+able to save a great deal of time if, between the scene that is done
+in the library and the one enacted in the court-room, he can take his
+people out and get three or four, or even more, scenes in the open
+air, where the setting is ready for him. Carefully plan every scene
+_before you write it_, and see, for instance, if Dick could not
+propose to Stella in the garden, or on a bench in the park, just as
+well as he could in the drawing room or in the ball-room. Help
+yourself to more sales by helping the director to easier work.
+
+_Human Interest._--In the Biograph photoplay, "Three Friends,"
+previously referred to in this chapter, there was one short scene that
+was especially effective--one of those human-interest bits that are
+characteristic of photoplays that sell. After the arrival of the two
+men, and the reconciliation between the foreman and the young woman's
+husband, the former hurries the latter off to the factory, promising
+to "give him back his job." The third friend hangs behind, and,
+realizing that the wife is without money to buy food, hands her a
+banknote. She hesitates to take it; but he, noticing the revolver
+which she now holds, takes it from her and thrusts the money into her
+hand in its place, indicating that he is only buying the "gun" from
+her. The woman smiles gratefully, and the kind-hearted friend hurries
+out after the other two men.
+
+It will pay the student to remember all the little human touches of
+this kind that he sees in the photoplays of others, and, while by no
+means copying them, try to work into his own stories bits of similar
+value.
+
+Human interest must be woven in the plot, and not thrown in in chunks.
+As for how to do it, "Each mind," says Emerson, "has its own method. A
+true man never acquires after college rules." But of one thing make
+sure: Plan your human appeal from the start, so that the actual climax
+may loom up distinctly from the time you write your very first scene.
+As Jean Paul has said, "The end we aim at must be known before the
+way."
+
+In conclusion, we offer a short catechism that the writer will do well
+to consult before sending out his script:
+
+Is my plot really fresh?
+
+Could it be called a colorable imitation of any magazine story, book,
+or play?
+
+Is it strong enough?
+
+Is it logical?
+
+Does it suit the time of year?
+
+Is the plot not only possible but _probable?_
+
+Is the material desired by the producer to whom I am sending it?
+
+Does the company make that style of story?
+
+Are the points properly brought out, that others may see them as I do?
+
+Can I make it better by altering it?
+
+Will it pass the Censors?
+
+Even if it does, will it offend even one spectator?
+
+Do the synopsis and scenario match properly, or have I hinted at
+action in my synopsis which is not adequately worked out in the
+continuity? On the other hand, does the synopsis tell everything that
+happens in the scenario?
+
+Is it impracticable for the camera?
+
+Have I introduced scenes that would cost too much to produce?
+
+Is the cast too small?
+
+Is it too large?
+
+Finally, some anonymous writer has said: "Don't let go of your script
+until you are positive that you have made every detail clear, that
+your layout of scenes has told the story in self-explanatory action,
+and that you have answered every prospective 'Why?'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE SCENE-PLOT AND ITS PURPOSE
+
+
+It has been said in an earlier chapter that it is optional with the
+writer whether to submit a scene-plot with his complete script;
+nevertheless, we believe that it is advisable.
+
+
+_1. Why Prepare a Scene-Plot_
+
+The reason is a plain one: Until the writer has become known as a
+professional, it is the spirit in which the scene-plot is sent rather
+than its actual value to either editor or director that counts in his
+favor. It indicates his willingness to help both these busy men so far
+as lies in his power; further, it shows that he is willing to do at
+the beginning of his career that which he would never for a moment
+think of leaving undone after his complete scripts are once in demand;
+but, most of all, it shows that he has enough confidence in his work
+to believe that--provided the story is acceptable--it will be produced
+essentially as he has planned it.
+
+Naturally, it often happens that the director adds scenes to those
+planned by the author, and even oftener some of the author's scenes
+are cut out; in either case, however, so much of the scene-plot as
+remains unchanged will have its value. The author may feel that the
+director's alterations are unwarranted, but that functionary rarely
+makes additions or cuts unless he works an improvement.
+
+The writer sends the scene-plot along so that, in case no drastic
+changes are necessary, the director may have all ready his list of
+scenes arranged in proper chronological order. From these he will
+prepare his regular scene-plot diagram, which the carpenters and
+mechanics will use in building the scenery, and by which the stage
+hands and property men will be guided in setting the scenes and
+placing the furniture and other "props."
+
+
+_2. The Scene-Plot Explained_
+
+Let us now explain the difference between the _only kind of scene-plot
+with which the photoplaywright is concerned_ and that which the
+director means when he uses the same term.
+
+Practically all directors have had experience as theatrical producers,
+or stage directors, or stage managers, before entering the
+moving-picture field. What is known as a scene-plot in regular
+theatrical work is a list of the various scenes, or sets, showing
+where the different "hanging pieces" (drops, cut-drops, fog drops,
+foliage, fancy, kitchen, or other borders) are hung, and how all the
+various pieces of scenery that are handled on the floor of the stage,
+as wood and rock wings, "set" pieces, "flats," and "runs," are to be
+arranged or set. Almost every stage carpenter has, in addition to
+this list, a supply of printed diagrams showing the exact position on
+the stage of everything handled by the "grips," or scene-shifters, as
+well as the proper arrangement on the set of the furniture and larger
+props. Both the list and the diagram are usually printed on one sheet,
+and this, known as the scene-plot, is sent ahead to the stage managers
+of the theatres in the next towns to be played. At the same time, a
+"property plot," being simply a list, act by act, of the various props
+not carried by the company, is sent to the property man of the house.
+
+Now, the principal difference between the regular and the
+moving-picture stage is that, in making photoplays, _natural_
+exteriors are used, in almost every case. Consequently, landscape and
+other exterior drops are almost unknown in moving-picture work. As
+actual drops they _are_ unknown; when such painted backgrounds are
+used, they are usually painted on canvas or a sort of heavy cardboard,
+which is stretched over or tacked to a solid framework. So that even
+in making out his working scene-plot diagram, a director finds that
+there are many technical terms which he constantly used in his
+theatrical work but seldom or never employs in his capacity of
+photoplay producer. Nevertheless, he still uses a scene-plot diagram,
+drawing it himself on regular printed forms.
+
+As may be gathered from the foregoing, the scene-plot diagram for a
+photoplay setting is entirely different from the diagram of the
+setting for a scene on the regular stage. The former shows, printed,
+the comparative shape and dimensions of the "stage," and gives, in
+figures, the depth of the stage and the distance from the camera to
+the "working line," below which (toward the camera) an actor must not
+step if he wishes his feet, therefore his whole body, to show in the
+picture.
+
+To say "the depth of the stage" is to say that the printed diagram is
+marked off in a scale of feet from the camera's focus. The figures at
+the right side of the sheet indicate the distance in feet from the
+camera, while those at the left show the width of the field, or range
+of the camera lens, at different distances. Only that portion of each
+piece of furniture which is marked a solid black in the diagram is
+supposed to show in the picture. Thus half of a table may be "in" and
+half "out" of a picture, or scene. This diagram-form is made out by
+the director for virtually every set that shows an interior scene, and
+he frequently draws one also for exteriors, where a building, or even
+what appears in the picture to be a complete, permanent structure, is
+set up by the carpenters and mechanics out of doors. Such a scene-plot
+diagram is reproduced at the end of this chapter.
+
+The scene-plot which you as a photoplay author are called upon to
+prepare, however, is simply a list of the scenes used in working out
+your scenario. Here you must distinguish between "scene" and "set" (or
+setting) in photoplay writing. We know that the scene is changed every
+time that the camera is moved. One scene or ten may be taken, or
+"done," in the same set--that is, a half-dozen scenes might be taken
+successively in a business office without changing the set at all.
+Therefore, although you have two hundred _scenes_ in your five-reel
+scenario, only twenty _sets_ may be needed in which to play them.
+
+
+_3. How Scenes and Sets Are Photographed_
+
+We know that a scene is ended when the cameraman stops "grinding;" we
+understand, also, that a change of setting is brought about by moving
+the camera, even though, in the case of taking two exterior scenes,
+the camera is only moved enough to take in a new "stage" three or four
+feet to either side of that shown in the last scene.
+
+The word "scene" seems to be a stumbling block for some beginners.
+Take for example the setting showing the bedroom in the ranch house,
+as listed in the scene-plot of "Without Reward," and given in this
+chapter. In doing the five scenes that take place in that room, Scene
+4 would be taken, the camera would be stopped, and, in some studios, a
+large white card with the figure "9" painted on it in black would be
+held a few feet in front of the lens. About a foot of film would then
+be exposed, which would thus register the number _of the next scene_
+to be taken in the same set.[21] Then Scene 9 would be done. This
+scene being ended, the numbering-of-the-scene process would be
+repeated, the next scene being number 17. Then, in turn, would come
+scenes 28 and 30--or, rather, although listed on the scene-plot as two
+scenes, 28 and 30 would really be photographed as one unbroken scene,
+for, as a glance at the scene-plot will show, Scene 29 is a bust
+scene, which means that the film would be cut at the proper place
+after the scene had been taken, thus dividing it into two scenes,
+separated by Scene 29 in the finished photoplay.
+
+[Footnote 21: Different studios have different methods for recording
+the number of the next scene to be taken. Some use the numbered card
+system--as explained in the body of the text--in which a stand, or
+tripod, having a rack on top with cards numbered from 1 to 50, and
+other cards marked "Retake," etc., is placed on the working line
+between each scene. In other studios the film itself is marked with
+the number of the scene, just as one writes the name of a picture on
+the film when using an "Autographic Kodak" camera.]
+
+[Illustration: The Reception of King Robert of Sicily by His Brother,
+the Pope--a Historical Photoplay Produced in the Essanay Studio,
+Chicago]
+
+[Illustration: Same Set, with Players Getting Ready for Action. The
+Three Poplar Trees are Real, while the Rest of the Background is a
+Painted Drop]
+
+Now, since Scene 30 is the last to be taken in the bedroom setting,
+let us suppose that the setting showing the interior of the sheriff's
+office is standing on the studio floor right next to the bedroom set.
+The camera is merely shifted over and set up as required to take the
+two scenes (24 and 26) done successively in that set, and the same
+process is gone through that was followed in making the five scenes in
+the bedroom.
+
+This, then, is the one thing that the photoplaywright must remember:
+All the _scenes_ that are to take place in one _setting_ or location
+are made before the camera is moved an inch, and, in one way or
+another, according to the particular studio, the film is marked after
+each scene so as to show the number of the scene coming next. The
+reason is plain: because scenes 28 and 30 (which are subsequently
+divided by the bust picture) and scenes 4, 9 and 17, are all done in
+the same set, if the camera were not stopped and the film marked
+before each new scene with the number of that scene, the operators in
+the cutting room, where the different parts of the film are assembled,
+would--unless guided by the director--mistake _all_ that part of the
+film showing the bedroom setting for one unbroken scene.
+
+
+_4. How Scene-Plots Are Handled by Directors_
+
+The scene-plot for the writer's story, "Without Reward," just referred
+to, follows:
+
+     Exterior of Sheriff's office, main street of town, 1, 23.
+
+     Dr. Turner's office, 2.
+
+     Exterior, Freeman and Doctor riding to ranch, 3.
+
+     Bedroom in ranch house, 4, 9, 17, 28, 30.
+
+     Corner of ranch house, looking toward stable, 5, 7, 16, 22,
+     27, 31.
+
+     Exterior, supposedly at distance from, but within sight of,
+     Ranch, 6.
+
+     Kitchen of ranch house, 8, 10, 32.
+
+     At door of stable, 11.
+
+     Foothill trail, 12.
+
+     Rocky part of hillside, showing entrance to cave in side of
+     cliff, 13, 15.
+
+     Interior of cave, 14.
+
+     Exterior, Steve riding to town, 18.
+
+     Road on outskirts of town, 19.
+
+     Same road, farther on, 20.
+
+     Exterior of Dr. Turner's house, 21.
+
+     Interior of Sheriff's office, 24, 26.
+
+     Rear of Sheriff's office, showing corner of building and
+     side wall, 25.
+
+     Bust of Jess's right hand, holding photograph, 29.
+
+Here, it will be seen, there are four interior and thirteen exterior
+sets, or backgrounds. Scene 14, the interior of the cave, was counted
+as an exterior when giving the number of interior and exterior sets
+following the title in writing the synopsis. This was because,
+although in the picture it would appear to be taken inside a rocky
+cave, the chances are that it would really be made in some recess of a
+rocky cliff-side, where there would be enough light to make the
+photography distinct, without allowing the rays of the sun to cast any
+shadows that would make it seem unnatural, since the cave was
+supposedly dimly illumined from the daylight outside. At any rate, it
+would not be a studio setting--whether the stage was an indoor or an
+open-air one--so it would be classed as an exterior.
+
+After the cameraman had taken Scene 3, which shows Freeman and the
+Doctor riding to the ranch, he could probably find a suitable
+background for the scene showing Steve riding toward the town, by
+merely turning his camera half way around. Thus Scene 18 might be
+taken after Scene 3; after which, by again moving the camera only a
+short distance, a suitable spot might be found in which to take Scene
+12. Scenes 19 and 20 were intended to be taken on a fairly well-kept
+piece of roadway, supposedly on the outskirts of the town, and it
+might be necessary to travel some distance to find the desired spot.
+So it will be seen that the order in which the scenes are written has
+nothing to do with the order in which they will be taken. Scene 29,
+so called, is really a part of Scene 28, being simply a bust of the
+girl's hand holding a photograph. The words written on the back of
+this picture have an important bearing on the action which follows;
+therefore it is important that they should be read by the spectators.
+So, the much enlarged bust picture is introduced, in which, as has
+been explained in the preceding chapter, the hand with the photograph
+is held so close to the camera that when the picture is shown on the
+screen the writing is easily read. In writing out the scene-plot,
+never omit mentioning the bust picture, if one is used, and give it a
+number as if it were a distinct interior or exterior, but when giving
+the total number of interior and total number of exterior settings
+(which follows your title in writing the synopsis), do not include it
+as being either one or the other. It is not even necessary to say "One
+bust picture." On the other hand, close-ups are regarded as regular
+interior or exterior scenes, and must be counted as such and so
+mentioned when giving the number of scenes, as described.
+
+
+_5. How the Director Provides the Sets_
+
+The director having gone over the author's scene-plot to aid him in
+preparing his own diagrams of the various settings, it is merely
+necessary, so far as the exteriors are concerned, to go out himself,
+or send out his assistant, to pick the natural settings required. In
+fact, in most modern studios, an elaborate card index system of
+listing locations, sometimes situated miles from the studio, is
+maintained. Unless an exterior scene calls for a log cabin, church
+front, or some building of special construction other than such real
+buildings as may be easily found in the neighborhood of, or within a
+reasonably short distance from, the producing plant, he does not have
+to draw a special diagram-plot for the scene. Even when a new building
+is needed, it is only necessary to instruct the carpenters to build,
+say, a log cabin of a certain size on the location he points out, with
+a door, windows, etc., as determined by him for the requirements of
+the scene.
+
+With the interior scenes it is different. The sets for these are
+planned by the director to obtain the very best stage- and scenic
+effects possible from the standpoints of architecture, lighting, and
+arrangement of properties.
+
+
+_6. The Director_
+
+A first-class company will employ from four to ten, or even twelve,
+directors. Frequently a new director is recruited from among the
+actors in the stock company. "Director" and "producer" mean
+practically the same thing in photoplay parlance; a man will _direct_
+the acting of the players while engaged in _producing_ a picture. As a
+rule, if a man is known as a "dramatic" director, he adheres to that
+kind of work, just as a first-class comedy man will seldom touch any
+other kind of production.
+
+There is always a certain amount of friendly competition among the
+directors in any studio, since they constantly vie with each other in
+obtaining the most artistic settings for the various scenes of their
+respective stories.
+
+
+_7. Writing the Scene-Plot_
+
+The actual writing of the scene-plot should come after the scenario
+has been completed. One way of doing it is to go over the scenario and
+write out the various settings, and then give the numbers of the
+scenes played in each. This, however, is a very roundabout and
+tiresome method. The best and simplest way is to keep a slip of paper,
+similar to the one on which you make note of the characters when
+writing the cast, and jot down the settings as you come to them,
+adding the number of the scene. In this way as you work on the
+scenario you have before you a list of every setting used, and can see
+at a glance what scenes are played in each different setting. Then
+when your scenario is finished you have simply to slip a fresh sheet
+of paper into your typewriter and make a neat copy of the complete
+scene-plot. As a safeguard, it is better, before recopying, to check
+up so as to make sure that you have every scene accounted for, by
+counting from "one" to whatever may be the number of your last scene.
+
+In writing the scene-plot it is only necessary to give a list of the
+exterior and the interior settings; at the same time, it is sometimes
+advisable, especially in the case of exterior scenes, to add a few
+words that will help the director to understand just what the setting
+is intended to be without having to refer to the scenario, where such
+details would naturally appear.
+
+The following example is selected from the scene-plot of "Sun, Sand
+and Solitude," a scene-plot diagram from which we reproduce on a
+succeeding page. The theme of this story is the discontent of a young
+wife, caused by seeing, month in and month out, the sun-baked
+stretches of the Arizona desert.
+
+     Exterior, showing desert, 17. For this scene, select an
+     extremely barren and unpleasing bit of desert landscape.
+
+     Another exterior, 24. A stretch of desert landscape; if
+     anything, more barren and solitary than 17.
+
+     Another exterior, 28. While still typical desert landscape,
+     it is much less barren and desolate than either 17 or 24.
+
+There is no law of writing, and no studio rule, to compel you to do
+any of these little things to help a busy editor or an earnest
+director, but, just because they are busy men, why not try to help
+them? So long as the "help" is not overdone, and is intelligent,
+clear, and concise, it is sure to help your script toward an
+acceptance.
+
+[Illustration: [diagram]]
+
+     The scene-plot diagram reproduced on the opposite page is
+     the author's original diagram for the "Living room of ranch
+     house" setting in his photoplay, "Sun, Sand and Solitude."
+     With a little study of this diagram the reader will be able
+     to judge just how the scene would appear in the picture on
+     the screen. Of course, it is neither customary nor necessary
+     to send such a diagram as this when you are submitting your
+     script. There is a possibility, however, that the producer
+     might use the author's diagram as a guide in preparing that
+     particular setting, should the photoplaywright send one
+     similar to the one here reproduced.
+
+     The dotted lines show the dimensions of the enlarged stage
+     for special very large sets. Since the line _E_ represents
+     the background of this enlarged stage, it will be seen that
+     it is almost twice as wide as the background for the
+     interior setting here shown. By "background" is meant the
+     space on the diagram between _B_ and _D_, not the "desert
+     backing," which, if the scene were taken inside the studio,
+     would be simply a painted background, taking the place of
+     the "drop" which would be used on the regular stage. It will
+     be noticed that, although there are a couple of steps
+     leading to the veranda, there is only one post indicated on
+     the diagram. This, of course, is because a post at the other
+     side of the steps is unnecessary, that point being "masked"
+     by the piece of scenery representing the back wall of the
+     room. The open door shows a portion of the veranda railing
+     and the post on the left of the steps. As the scenario
+     shows, Dean is carried up these steps, and into the bedroom
+     on the left, after he has been thrown from his horse. To the
+     right of the door, and looking out upon the veranda, is a
+     bay window, forming a window-seat. Attention is called to
+     the fact that what is so frequently called a "bay window"
+     is, properly, a "bow window," the three sides of a bay
+     window being at right angles to each other. The sideboard at
+     the right of the stage is absolutely essential to the climax
+     of the plot, though only half of it--enough to show the
+     upper left-hand drawer distinctly--need appear in the
+     picture.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE USE AND ABUSE OF LEADERS, LETTERS AND OTHER INSERTS
+
+
+A full reel contains approximately one thousand feet of film. The
+ordinary five-reel feature is therefore somewhat less than five
+thousand feet in length. With far less stress laid upon the admonition
+to "Make your leaders and inserts brief" than formerly, the writer
+still must keep in mind the fact that the major portion of a
+five-thousand-foot film must be devoted to _scenes_--to action which
+the spectator merely watches--and that the inserts, of whatever
+nature, must never be allowed to crowd this action-part of the
+picture.
+
+At the same time, any story with the average amount of
+plot-complication can be told--the action-portion, that is, can be
+fully worked out--in from 3,800 to slightly over 4,000 feet; which
+means that something less than one thousand feet of film may be, and
+frequently is, given up to the various inserts.
+
+This matter of footage is one which demands the attention of both
+director and cameraman. On the side of the motion-picture camera is an
+indicator, by which is computed the exact number of feet exposed each
+time the cameraman turns the handle. At the conclusion of each scene
+the director cries "Cut!" The cameraman stops turning, looks at the
+indicator, and announces "Seventy-five!" or whatever the number of
+feet used. In some cases it is necessary to take the scene again,
+altering the "business" slightly or hurrying the action a little to
+reduce the footage consumed in a certain scene. A point worth noting
+is that the director can seldom figure in advance the exact amount of
+footage a certain scene will require--even after it has been rehearsed
+and timed several times; whereas he _can_ always tell the exact number
+of feet he must give to each of the various inserts, because "insert
+footage" is reckoned in advance, a certain number of feet being
+allowed for each word.
+
+Photoplay audiences have gradually been educated up to an appreciation
+of sub-titles, or leaders, when they are all that they ought to be (a
+point which we shall presently discuss); and less attention is paid to
+the rather selfish cry of the illiterates in the audience who insist
+that "they came to look at pictures, and not to read a book." As one
+of the most prominent theatre managers in San Francisco recently said
+in the _Motion Picture News_: "In many pictures the big scene is 'put
+over' by a sub-title. The wording of a sub-title in a big situation
+can make or break a picture, and it is therefore false economy to
+allow this work to be done by any person other than one with real
+literary talent, who is thoroughly conversant with the art of
+expression."
+
+We have already pointed out that in most studios the work of writing
+leaders and inserts is now attended to by one specialist--the
+"sub-title editor," as he is usually called. Just as much care is put
+into the preparation of everything in the nature of an insert as
+attends the making of the scenes of the picture.
+
+
+_1. Why Inserts Are Used_
+
+Before the advent of pictures of five and more reels, with their
+consequent greater room for inserted matter in addition to the
+necessary scenes, the general opinion was that the perfect photoplay
+had no leaders and needed none. Certainly, such a picture would be
+ideal if a photoplay were to be a motion picture and nothing more than
+that, since it would be so perfectly acted and so self-explanatory
+that no inserted explanation of any kind would be necessary.
+Practically, however, the only photoplay that can be made without the
+aid of at least a few leaders or other inserts--that is, that can be
+nothing but pictured action--is one on the order of the Vitagraph
+Company's one-reel release of several years ago, "Jealousy," in which
+the entire picture was made in a single set. In it Miss Florence
+Turner was the only actor, telling the whole story clearly,
+coherently, and with strong dramatic force, and making every phase of
+the plot clear, the only outside assistance she received being the
+momentary appearance of two other hands than her own--a man's and a
+woman's--through the curtains covering the doorway. This, of course,
+was pure pantomime, and most artistically performed; the woman's every
+thought, so to say, was portrayed, and understood by the spectator as
+if the play were accompanied by a printed synopsis of the story.
+
+But it would seem to be impossible to produce a photoplay having
+changes of scene, plot complications, from six to a dozen or more
+characters, and lapses of action-time between the different scenes,
+without employing any inserts. Even in a small group of scenes it is
+often extremely difficult to make a certain important point in the
+action "register"--that is, show the spectator what is in the minds of
+the characters as the scene is worked out. In such a case, even though
+the scenario as planned by the author does not contain an insert at
+that point, the director may deem it advisable to introduce one to
+make the situation clear. The use of inserts, then, is necessary.
+
+
+_2. The Over-Use of Inserts_
+
+The over-use of them, on the contrary, is not only entirely
+unnecessary but a positive drawback to the director, and frequently
+one of the reasons why an unavailable manuscript is returned to the
+writer. A good rule is to employ inserts only when it is impossible to
+progress and still make every point of your plot clear and effective
+without their aid. This need for an insert of some sort at a given
+point may be inherent in the material and therefore desirable as well
+as needful, but do not admit such a necessity without serious thought.
+Ingenuity accomplishes wonders. Remember, the use of a leader is in
+most cases a frank confession that you are incapable of "putting over"
+a point in the development of your plot solely by the action in the
+scenes--you must call in outside assistance, as it were. A scenario
+written by a novice often contains many leaders which he considers
+necessary to tell his story, yet the same plot in the hands of a
+trained writer could be made into a photoplay with many less
+sub-titles. Like fire, the leader is a good servant but a bad master.
+Once you discover that you are getting into the habit of introducing
+an explanatory insert before almost every scene, it is time to remodel
+your idea of what constitutes proper technique.
+
+But when a leader can be used to advantage, do not hesitate to insert
+it--it has a distinct value and that value must not be despised. True,
+_any_ leader halts the action because it destroys the illusion to some
+extent, and diverts the attention from the picture to the explanatory
+words. But it is also true that it puts the mind of the spectator in a
+mood to accept and appreciate the action which is to follow.
+Therefore, use the leader, or any other insert--_discreetly_.
+
+We have repeatedly advised the would-be photoplaywright to study the
+pictures as he sees them on the screen, and to gain therefrom a
+knowledge of what is required by the manufacturers. At this point,
+however, we would warn writers _not_ to copy the example of certain
+companies whose pictures are nearly always overloaded with sub-titles
+which appear to have been introduced for no other reason than to
+afford the sub-title editor an opportunity to do some clever writing.
+
+Many critics have asserted--not entirely without cause--that the type
+of photoplay comedy-dramas originated by Douglas Fairbanks are less
+than one-half action, the rest being merely clever but often
+unessential sub-titling. While this criticism is rather severe, it
+cannot be denied that certain stories of the kind mentioned,
+featuring this star and others, have been far too dependent for their
+appeal to the spectator upon the humorous, epigrammatic sayings of the
+characters. True, it is usually after leaving the theatre, and
+reviewing the picture in retrospect, that the spectator realizes
+that the accent has been too definitely on the sub-titling and
+not enough upon the action, but when he does realize it, he feels
+disappointed--and watches the next release featuring the same star to
+see if it will be repeated. More than ever before, in this day of
+feature photoplays, there is a constant opportunity to use leaders and
+other inserts with telling effect. The point simply is that with more
+leeway than the writer has ever been given before, you should learn to
+take advantage of every shining opportunity to work in a really
+effective sub-title, while constantly guarding against the temptation
+to introduce one on the slightest excuse.
+
+Let such inserts as you do use be phrased in clear, terse language.
+The old example in the schoolbook, that it is simpler and therefore
+better to say, "A leather apron" than, "An apron of leather," holds
+good with inserts, and especially leaders. Short, clean-cut sentences
+strike the eye and penetrate the mind the most quickly and
+effectively. If you doubt this, look at a good advertisement. So do
+not only dispense with every needless insert, but cut out from each
+insert every needless word.
+
+
+_3. The Danger of Over-Compression_
+
+In cutting, do not go too far. Use enough words to be clear and
+definite. Vagueness is an abomination and confusing pronouns make an
+author as ridiculous as his scene is unintelligible. Remember that the
+leader is shown on the screen for only a moment, and it is for you to
+assist the spectator by making your leader so plain "not that it _may_
+be understood," as Quintilian used to say, "but that it _must_ be
+understood."
+
+It is quite as possible to use too few inserts, especially leaders, as
+it is to use so few words in them as to mar their meaning. Young
+writers are often more eager to follow the advice of their mentors
+than they are bold to use their own common-sense; and having had the
+importance of brevity well pounded in, they produce scripts with the
+double fault of not having enough action to make the plot clear, and
+not enough inserts to help out the action.
+
+As an example of this tendency toward over-compression, take the
+script of one amateur writer. It contained a scene in which Mary, the
+heroine, constantly abused by a drunken step-father, steals out of the
+house at night as if about to start for some other town where she can
+make her own living and be free from the step-father's abuse. In Scene
+7, Mary, carrying a suit case, leaves the farm-house where she had
+always lived. Scene 8 shows her "plodding wearily" along the road
+leading to town. Then in Scene 9 we are back in the kitchen at the
+farm-house. "The room is deserted. (Everyone supposed to be in bed.)
+The door opens and Mary enters, carrying suit case, which she puts
+down just inside the door. She staggers to the rocking chair and drops
+wearily into it, as if completely fatigued." And so on.
+
+On reading the script, one's natural supposition is that Mary has
+thought it over while "plodding wearily" toward town, and, remembering
+the comfortable bed which awaits her at the old home--even though the
+next morning will bring more ill treatment at the hands of the
+step-father--has returned to make the best of it. After reading three
+more scenes, however, we learn that Mary had not only reached the
+town, but had gone so far as "the big city," from which she had
+returned after a fruitless search for work. Scene 9 is really supposed
+to take place two weeks after Scene 8!
+
+Now, laying aside the fact that no scenes are introduced to show what
+happened to her after she went to the city, the script does not even
+give a scene showing her boarding a train to go, so there is nothing
+even to hint that Scene 9 did not take place on the same night that
+Mary left home.
+
+The point of all this is that, had this script been accepted at all,
+and even had not the producer chosen to introduce any scenes showing
+Mary in the city, a leader of some kind between Scenes 8 and 9 would
+have been absolutely necessary. This, of course, was an amateur
+script, and the whole story was impossible from the standpoint of
+logic and the sequence of events; but in more than one picture that
+has been shown on the screen we have noticed the omission of a leader
+at a point in the action where one was very necessary, as a
+consequence of which the spectator was left--for the space of two or
+three scenes at least--to guess at what was what.
+
+It is worth remembering that you are not an accomplished
+photoplaywright until you can produce a story that is thoroughly
+understandable _all the way through_ by action and inserts. You are a
+clever writer, undoubtedly, if you can produce a "leaderless" script.
+But it is no indication of cleverness merely to _leave out_ a
+leader--only to find, when your story is produced, that the director
+has found it necessary to add what you have simply cut out or never
+put in. He is a foolish and short-sighted writer indeed who gives any
+director such an opportunity to doubt his knowledge of photoplay
+technique.
+
+In this connection, let us quote Mr. Frank E. Woods, who, besides
+being well known as a critic, photoplaywright, director and supervisor
+of productions under Mr. David W. Griffith, is an acknowledged expert
+in editing motion pictures.
+
+"Many a picture," says Mr. Woods, "has been ruined by inadequate
+sub-titles. The makers of the picture have assumed that because _they_
+understood the meaning of every action, the spectators should also
+understand, forgetting that the spectators will view the picture for
+the first time. The moment a spectator becomes confused and loses the
+sense of what he is seeing on the screen, his interest is gone. While
+he is wondering 'What are they talking about now?' or 'Who is the chap
+in the long coat?' or 'How did he get from the house in the woods?'
+the film is being reeled off merrily and the spectator has lost the
+thread of the story. Going to the other extreme and inserting
+sub-titles where the meaning is perfectly obvious, or telling in
+sub-titles that which is to be pictured immediately after, should also
+be avoided, although pictures are sometimes criticized for having too
+many titles when in fact the keen-eyed critic is the only one who
+finds them too many. The average spectator is none too alert.... The
+sub-title should be in complete harmony with the story and should
+never divert interest from the story. It should never be obtrusive. It
+should be there only because it belongs there. Therefore all
+sub-titles should be couched in language that harmonizes with the
+story. Every word should be weighed. Nothing should ever shock the
+spectator out of his interest in the picture by its incongruity,
+extravagance or inanity. Too much in a sub-title is as bad as too
+little--like seasoning in a pudding. The function of the sub-title is
+to supplement and correct the action of the picture, to cover lapses
+in the continuity, and to supply the finer shades of meaning which the
+actor has been unable to express in pantomime."[22]
+
+[Footnote 22: "Editing a Motion Picture," by Frank E. Woods, in _The
+Moving Picture World_.]
+
+In passing, let us note one point of considerable moment.
+Notwithstanding the fact that many pictures are shown in which a
+leader immediately follows the title, it is much better not to arrange
+it so. Let your title be followed by a scene--by action--even though
+the scene be a short one. Then, if necessary, introduce your first
+leader. If when the photoplay opens the title is flashed upon the
+screen, and immediately a leader is shown, there is a chance that,
+having taken in the title almost at a glance, the spectator may
+momentarily divert his gaze and so miss your first leader, only
+turning his eyes toward the screen again when he notices that a scene
+is being shown. Again, even though he may be watching closely, the
+spectator is seldom quite so attentive to an explanatory insert which
+is shown before the opening scene as he is to one introduced later,
+when he has already become interested.
+
+Most critics are also agreed that the use of leaders introducing the
+principal characters (usually accompanied by a few feet of film in
+which the character named is also pictured, perhaps in the act of
+bowing to the audience, or in some pose characteristic of the part he
+plays) is a mistake, when such "introducing" is done before the first
+scene of the story has been shown. Undoubtedly _anything_ coming
+before the first scene is really out of place--so far as its being
+part of the story is concerned. Again Mr. Sargent stated a fact when
+he said that "What goes before the first real scene of a story is no
+more a part of that story than the design-head is a part of the
+fiction story. No magazine editor expects the author to be his own
+artist and supply an illustrated title. Start your story with the
+first scene of action, and let the director supply the preliminary
+scenes [close-ups of the principals] and leaders to suit himself."
+
+As a matter of fact, though, the very best reason for not introducing
+from three to six or eight characters before the opening scene is that
+by the time the story has advanced a little many of the spectators
+have forgotten "who is who," whereas they have a much better
+opportunity to fix a character's name and occupation--so to speak--in
+their minds if that character is briefly but properly introduced at
+the point of his first entrance into the action of the play. Only the
+fact that we were already familiar with the faces of the contemporary
+historical characters shown in such features as Ambassador Gerard's
+"My Four Years in Germany" made it possible for us to keep track,
+during the first few scenes in which each one appeared, of the persons
+shown. No one could possibly have memorized the "panoramic" leader
+giving the cast, with its thirty or more names of characters and
+players.
+
+
+_4. Four Special Functions of Leaders_
+
+Properly used, leaders can accomplish four results very
+satisfactorily: (a) Mark the passage of time; (b) clear up a point of
+the action which could not otherwise be made to "register;" (c)
+"break" a scene; and (d) prepare the mind of the spectator to enter
+into the scene in the right spirit.
+
+_(a) Marking the passage of time._ In the amateur script previously
+discussed, we found the need for this use of the leader. The
+introduction, between scenes 8 and 9, of a leader telling the
+spectator that the events in Scene 9 were supposed to happen "Two
+weeks later" than those taking place in Scene 8, would have gone a
+long way toward clearing up the plot of the story. In this case, of
+course, it would have been necessary to add to the statement
+concerning the passage of time another statement as to what had
+happened in the interval, the complete leader reading: "Two weeks
+later, Mary returns home after failing to get work in the city." Or,
+better still: "After two weeks of fruitless search for work in the
+city, Mary returns to her old home."
+
+Try to get away from the monotonous use of the "Next day," "The next
+day," and "Two years later," style of leader. Say: "The following
+afternoon," "After five years," "Later in the evening," or "Six months
+have passed." Even though you find when your story is produced that
+the director has seen fit to omit altogether the leader that you
+"wrote in" at a certain point of the action, you have the satisfaction
+of knowing that, _had_ he used one there, he could not have improved
+upon the one you wrote.
+
+_(b) Clearing up a point in the action_ is too obvious a use of the
+leader to require much discussion. Some things mere actions cannot
+express, and some explanations must be verbally made because pantomime
+suggestion is inadequate. To take their proper place in the photoplay
+all such leaders should be more than merely explanatory: they should
+have genuine dramatic value--just as much as an important speech would
+have in a "legitimate" dramatic production. In the pictured drama the
+leader really fills in a significant part of the plot which could not
+be portrayed by wordless action.
+
+Miss Lois Weber, a well-known photoplay author who has also produced
+some very fine feature photoplays, says in _The Moving Picture World_:
+"Often the right words in a leader or other insert are the means of
+creating an atmosphere that will heighten the effect of a scene, just
+as a tearful conversation or soliloquy, at a stage death-bed will move
+the audience to tears where the same scene enacted in silence would
+leave it dry-eyed. Naturally, the wrong words may have the opposite
+effect, but that is no argument against the leader; it only argues
+that the wrong person wrote it."
+
+_(c) "Breaking" a scene_ with a leader may be explained by an
+illustration, which at the same time will serve to exemplify how the
+mind experiences a more or less unconscious _(d) preparation for the
+ensuing scene_.
+
+Suppose you have a comedy scene showing a bathtub gradually filling
+with water because the faucet was left open. In the time required to
+fill the bath and cause it to overflow, five or six hundred feet of
+film would be used up if the scene were not changed. Instead of this
+waste of film, you could, after registering the fact that the running
+water was rapidly filling the bath, introduce a leader: "Ten minutes
+later--the tide rises."
+
+Such a leader prepares the spectator for the funny scene that is to
+follow; and when the next scene is shown, in which the water is
+overflowing the bath and turning the bathroom into a miniature lake,
+the spectator realizes what has happened in the ten minutes which,
+according to your leader, has elapsed since the last scene was shown.
+
+Or, in your story, a lumberman may be injured by having a tree that he
+is chopping down fall on him. To show the whole process of felling a
+good-sized tree would take too long--it would consume too much
+footage, and be monotonous to the spectator. Also, it is the effect
+and not how it is obtained that makes a picture of this kind
+successful. For these reasons the man should be shown as he starts to
+chop down the tree. Then after he has made some perceptible progress
+you might introduce a leader. "The accident;" and, following the
+leader, show the man pinned to the ground by the fallen tree; then
+proceed with the succeeding action. You may be sure that the audience
+will understand that the man has been knocked down by and pinned under
+the tree as it fell; it is only necessary to show these two scenes.
+
+A leader, however, should never be employed to "break" a scene unless
+there is absolutely no chance to introduce in its stead a short
+_scene_, the showing of which will help the progress of the plot; or
+unless a leader will serve the double purpose of breaking the scene
+and supplying the audience with an explanation that is important just
+at that time.
+
+Taking the two examples just given, in which a leader is used to break
+the scene, there is scarcely any doubt that, were you writing these
+scenes in scenario form, you might easily substitute scenes that would
+help the action of the story and allow you to dispense with the
+leaders altogether. For instance, you could show the scene in which
+the absent-minded man leaves the water running into the bath and goes
+out of the room. Then, show a scene in his bedroom, where he is
+contentedly removing the studs from his shirt. Suddenly he remembers
+that he has left the water running. With an expression of dismay, he
+jumps up and runs out of the room. Flash back to the bathroom scene.
+The tub has overflowed and the room is filling with water. As the
+excited man opens the door, the flood pours out into the hall. The
+short scene in the bedroom makes the leader unnecessary. Better
+fifteen feet of film showing the bedroom scene than five feet of
+leader.
+
+Again, after the lumberman had started to chop down the tree, you
+might flash a short scene showing a couple of other men at work in
+another part of the forest. All at once they both stop work and
+register that they have heard something that startles them. One speaks
+excitedly to the other, and both run out of the picture. You then show
+the scene with the man lying beneath the fallen tree. Presently the
+two men who heard his cries for help come running up to him.
+
+
+_5. Cut-in Leaders_
+
+One very effective form of the leader is the cut-in, described in
+Chapter X. It takes the form of the speech of one of the characters,
+being written in quotation marks. This device of throwing on the
+screen the supposed words of a certain character at the moment of
+action enables the photoplaywright to tell all that is necessary much
+better than he could by a long statement of what is going on--a point
+that is well worth remembering. Directors are now using the
+explanatory cut-in leader as much as possible, to the exclusion of the
+ordinary one which merely states facts. This does not mean that they
+are trying to substitute "dialogue" leaders, but that wherever the
+newer form can be used to advantage it is less objected to by the
+audience than is the bald statement-sub-title--doubtless because it is
+in line with the illusion of reality in using the player's words, and
+is not merely an insertion by the director or the author, as other
+inserts evidently are.
+
+For the reason that all leaders more or less interrupt the action of a
+scene, some directors prefer decidedly not to use cut-ins more than is
+necessary, their argument being that for a few seconds following the
+right-in-the-middle-of-the-scene leader, the mind of the spectator is
+engaged with the import of what he has just read on the screen, and
+the action immediately following the leader is at least partially
+overlooked.
+
+Yet a cut-in leader is usually one that suddenly discloses an
+important point of the plot. It may be that one of the characters,
+when the scene is about half through, unexpectedly makes a statement
+which amounts to a confession of some crime. We read on the screen,
+"Judge, she said that to save me. That is my revolver!" No sooner has
+the cut-in been shown, and the action resumed, than the eyes of every
+spectator are fastened upon the face of the character in the scene
+who should, by all logical reasoning, be most affected by that
+confession. If a scene is important enough to require a cut-in leader,
+it is reasonable to suppose that it has the full attention of the
+spectator after the first few seconds of action. This being so, it
+would seem that the spectator is far less likely to miss a point of
+the action _immediately following a cut-in_ than he is to miss what
+occurs at the beginning of a scene, following an ordinary
+between-the-scenes leader. It is a fact that a few directors drag the
+action of a scene for the first few seconds following an ordinary
+leader for the purpose of again centering the attention of the
+beholder on the action itself, before developing--_in_ action--another
+point of the plot.
+
+We have already referred to "panoramic" leaders giving long casts of
+characters, the leader moving upwards on the screen instead of
+sidewise as in panoramic _scenes_. Today, the panoramic sub-title, as
+well as the panoramic letter or other insert, is quite common,
+especially in feature pictures. Those directors who, notwithstanding
+all, still favor the use of introductory matter before the first
+scene, frequently resort to long panoramic sub-titles as a means of
+making the spectator familiar with the theme of the story before
+starting to tell it, just as Kipling has so frequently introduced an
+introductory paragraph of the same nature in his short fiction. To our
+way of thinking, a thematic sub-title of this kind, used before the
+opening scene, is far less out of place than the ordinary introductory
+titles merely having to do with the characters, because it really
+does help prepare the spectator for the _kind_ of story he is about to
+view.
+
+Then, again, it may be added that the present-day length of leaders
+greatly modifies what we say--as a sound guiding principle--in Section
+7 of Chapter XVII. A great many excellent detective-story films have
+been produced, either from original synopses or as adaptations of the
+work of fiction writers. In these, there has been no hesitation on the
+part of the director and sub-title editor to use just as many words in
+a leader as might be necessary to make every point of the story
+entirely clear and interesting. Paramount's "The Devil Stone," showing
+the train of tragic events that followed the stealing by a wicked
+Norse queen of the great emerald belonging to a certain Breton priest,
+was one example of an intensely interesting detective story in which
+sub-titles supplied much more than a third of the story--and supplied
+it, apparently, quite unobtrusively. Here, again, only common sense
+and experience can show you what to do.
+
+Before leaving the subject of leaders let us say once more that you
+must seek to find the golden middle ground between the leader that is
+too flowery in its language and the other that is too stilted and
+prosaic. Again, in connection with the length of leaders, study the
+two following from Universal's feature, "The Kaiser, the Beast of
+Berlin," the first of which contains only seven words, while the
+second contains fifty-five.
+
+     Joy died, Hope fled. Desolation became supreme.
+
+     Then came the Master crime. An unoffending people was ground
+     into extinction beneath an iron heel. A nation was
+     destroyed. The Crime against Belgium being completed to its
+     fullest, the Prussian stalked onwards with his twin
+     comrades, Frightfulness and Horror. A new blotch of
+     infamy--the _Lusitania_--was added to the Black Name of the
+     Beast.
+
+Notice, also, that as is being done with many feature pictures of this
+or similar type today, the producers have adhered throughout to the
+past tense in wording their sub-titles.
+
+
+_6. The Use of Letters, News Items and Similar Inserts_
+
+The great thing in using inserts other than leaders is to be able to
+tell what would be most effective in scoring a point of the plot at an
+important place in the story. You may start to "write in" a letter and
+then suddenly get the idea that the same point might be better
+explained if a newspaper paragraph were used. But no matter what other
+kind of insert you employ, it will doubtless seem to be more a part of
+the action than will a plain leader. For this reason it is best,
+whenever possible, to use a letter, telegram, news item, or some
+similar insert, in place of a leader. A carefully worded letter
+introduced at just the right time will sometimes tell the audience as
+much concerning the complications of the plot as would five or six
+scenes.
+
+Letters should be short and to the point, but they should also tell as
+much as possible of _what can not be told in action_. Better a single
+letter of thirty-five words which tells everything than two or three
+notes of a line or two each that only suggest what the writer means.
+Some of the so-called "letters" which are seen on the screen are
+simply ridiculous on account of their very brevity. If it is a mere
+note that is dashed off and sent to one of the characters, or a note
+left where it will be found by someone after the writer has gone away,
+its brevity is allowable; but when a "letter" is written by a man to
+an old friend of his--a friend who, he is told, is living in a distant
+city, when for years he has supposed him to be dead--and contains but
+seventeen words, it is likely to make the spectator doubt the strength
+of the former friendship.
+
+It is not always necessary actually to write a long letter; but it is
+best in such instances to _suggest_ that a long letter has been
+written. This may be accomplished in two ways: You may either show a
+paragraph in the body of the letter, with a line or two just before
+and just after it, thus:
+
+On screen, letter.
+
+     and it was from him that I learned the truth.
+
+     I'll leave for Wheeling on the first train tomorrow, and
+     hope to clasp your hand again before Monday night.
+
+     Honestly, old man, it seems too, etc.
+
+or you may write out the ending of the letter in such a way as to
+suggest that much more has been said in the forepart of the message,
+thus:
+
+On screen, letter, folded down to show only this:
+
+     so I'll leave for Wheeling on the first train tomorrow, and
+     hope to clasp your hand again before Monday night.
+
+     Honestly, old man, it seems too good to be true. I won't be
+     able to believe that what Morgan told me _is_ true until I
+     see you with my own eyes.
+
+     Until then, believe me to be
+
+     As ever, your sincere friend,
+
+     Stephen Loring.
+
+To illustrate the way a letter will consume footage, we reproduce one
+for which fifteen feet were allowed.
+
+     Lord Cornwallis:
+
+     Am now within forty miles of Charlottesville. Thomas
+     Jefferson and the entire Virginia Assembly will be my
+     prisoners today.
+
+     Tarleton.
+
+As we know, a letter will sometimes be written by a character in one
+scene, but the spectators will not learn its exact contents--though
+they may know just about what he is writing--until a scene or two
+later, when the letter is delivered to and read by the one to whom it
+is addressed. On the other hand, we sometimes see an actor write a
+letter, immediately after which, as he reads it over, it is flashed on
+the screen. Then, later, we see it delivered, but although the one
+receiving it is seen to read it, it is not flashed upon the screen
+again, because the beholder has so recently been shown what it
+contains. But it sometimes happens that more than one letter enters
+into the development of the plot at a certain point, and hence there
+may be some slight confusion caused by the spectator's not knowing
+which of two letters the player is supposed to be reading. It is to
+avoid this confusion that directors generally flash a few feet of the
+letter a second time, simply to identify it. Thus, if the letter that
+Tom wrote to Nelly in Scene 6 is delivered to her together with one
+from her friend Kate in Scene 8, you may write:
+
+     Postman hands Nelly two letters. She registers delight upon
+     noticing handwriting on one envelope. Opens it immediately
+     and reads:
+
+On screen. Flash two or three feet of Tom's letter, same as in 6.
+
+Back to scene.
+
+Few spectators will object to the introduction of letters, telegrams,
+newspaper items, and the like--provided there are not too many such
+inserts--because these seem to fit into the picture as a part of the
+action, and are not, like leaders, plainly artificial interpolations
+by the author. It need hardly be pointed out, however, that letters
+and other written messages must not be introduced except for logical
+reasons. More than one case has been known in which the scenario
+submitted to an editor specified that one character was to write and
+hand to another a note which the second character was to read--the
+note, of course, was to be shown on the screen--when the contents
+were simply the words which, on the regular stage, the first actor
+would speak to the other! Of course, no director would allow such a
+thing to take place in his picture. In a situation where the story
+could actually be advanced by showing the beholder what a certain
+player was supposed to be saying to another, it would be only
+necessary to introduce a cut-in leader, as previously described.
+
+We have spoken of substituting a newspaper item for a letter. Wherever
+this can be done, it is well to do it; the newspaper item, being
+printed, is at least readable. One or two of the studios use letters
+in which the handwriting is so poor that before all the spectators
+have read the contents of the letter it has disappeared and the scene
+has been resumed.
+
+Let us suppose that Edith--not knowing that her friend Eleanor has
+fallen in love with Jack Temple, whom they met at a resort the
+previous summer--writes Eleanor a letter in which she says:
+
+On screen, letter.
+
+     and I'll send it in my next letter.
+
+     By the way, I heard a report that Jack Temple--the fellow
+     that you thought was so bashful--was seriously injured in
+     the wreck of the Buffalo Express last week. I
+
+Back to scene.
+
+The expression on Eleanor's face, as she reads this, would be the same
+as if she had picked up a newspaper and read:
+
+     at the time of the collision.
+
+     Among those reported injured are James T. Appley, Syracuse,
+     N.Y.; Lloyd W. Stern, Boston, Mass.; Mrs. Geo. P. Rowley,
+     Bangor, Me.; and John Temple, New York City.
+
+     Conductor Thomas Hammond told a _World_ reporter that as
+     soon as the report
+
+Of course, at some point in the action previous to the scene in which
+Eleanor reads this report in the newspaper, you will have made the
+spectators familiar with the hero's name by means of a leader or some
+other insert.
+
+"Where the information is brief," says Mr. Sargent,[23] again, "it may
+be better displayed as a newspaper headline. A two-column display head
+is better shaped for use on the screen than the deeper single-column
+head. A deal of information may be conveyed in a headline and the
+spectator seems to read the item over the character's shoulder rather
+than to have been interrupted by a leader."
+
+[Footnote 23: Epes Winthrop Sargent, _Technique of the Photoplay_.]
+
+Mr. William Lord Wright, author of "The Motion Picture Story," has
+this to say on the subject:
+
+"Nearly all photoplays now contain a flash of newspaper headline. It's
+a good way of putting over the information essential to the plot, but
+it is suggested that the headlines be properly written. Perhaps the
+author of the playlet was a novice in writing headlines, or maybe the
+director was a know-it-all. If not a newspaper man and a headliner, we
+would advise the author who wishes to use headlines in his action to
+get some newspaper man to write them for him. Some of the would-be
+newspaper heads we have read on the screen lately are not impressive
+or well written. Headlining is a difficult art."
+
+If you have occasion to use a will, mortgage, or other legal document,
+in telling your story, you will realize that the property man in every
+studio has the blank forms on hand for anything that you may
+introduce. It is therefore only necessary to show, say, the back of
+the mortgage on the screen, with the names of the principals written
+upon it. Then, later in the scene, or in some other scene, you can
+show the body of the mortgage. But if you show the body of such a
+document in Scene 10, after having shown the outside in Scene 4, it
+would be well to flash the outside, or cover, again in 10, before
+displaying the contents--for the purpose of identifying it, as in the
+case of the letter.
+
+In passing we may mention the letter or other document which is
+actually written by the actor who is _supposed_ to write it. Such a
+piece of writing, of course, must be, and is, not an "insert," but
+rather a part of a close-up scene. It might appear in the scenario
+thus:
+
+27--Close-up of upper part of Allison's body, right hand writing in
+pencil on one of Enderby's letterheads. He writes:
+
+     It took eleven years to get you, Enderby, as I swore I
+     would, some day. Now that I've kept my oath, I'm ready to
+     pay the price, and you will
+
+It is comparatively seldom, however, that this kind of close-up is
+made use of--usually because the actor or actress does not write a
+sufficiently clear hand for satisfactory "screening." More often the
+player will be seen starting to write the note, and then the close-up
+of another hand, _supposedly_ that of the player, will be shown,
+writing the words designed to be read by the spectator. In either
+case, they are close-ups, but the wording must be given in full, just
+as if you were writing an ordinary letter or other insert to be shown
+on the screen _after_ it has been written. But do not confuse what we
+have just said with the fact that, nowadays, nearly every letter that
+is screened is shown in what is literally a _bust_ picture, the letter
+or document being held in the hands of the player as he or she reads
+it. This is merely an additional realistic touch added in the studio;
+the writer supplies his insert in the regular way.
+
+The proper use of leaders and other inserts is a part of the technique
+of photoplay writing that is best learned by practise. Be sure to keep
+a carbon copy of your script. Then, if your story is accepted and
+produced, when you are watching it on the screen note the leaders
+carefully, comparing them with the ones you originally wrote, and
+profit by what you see. If the producer has seen fit to make changes
+of any kind, there is a reason, and it is generally safe to assume
+that it is a good one.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE PHOTOPLAY STAGE AND ITS PHYSICAL LIMITATIONS
+
+
+By "the photoplay stage" we mean all that sweep of view which is taken
+in by the range of the camera, whether in the studios or out of doors.
+At first this may appear to be of very wide area, but the scene-plot
+diagram (see Chapter XI) will give a good idea of space-limitations in
+staging the picture.
+
+
+_1. Scope of the Stage_
+
+To begin with, the actors must be constantly on the alert to avoid
+"getting out of the picture" while the scene is being taken. Suppose
+an actor is seated in a reclining chair that has been "set" where the
+line _A_ cuts it in half, so to speak. If he is leaning forward, he
+will be completely in the picture. But if he forgets himself and leans
+back it is likely that the upper part of his body will not appear when
+the film is developed. To avoid this, the V-shaped lines shown on the
+scene-plot are actually marked on the floor, in some studios. A piece
+of strong cord, or sometimes wire, is stretched tightly from _B_ to
+_C_ and thence to _D_. Within this V-shaped space the complete set
+must be made, and within these limits the entire scene is played. In
+the case of a set requiring more than the ordinary amount of depth, a
+larger stage is obtained by setting the back part of the scene (or
+set), as shown by the dotted line _E_, and laying down a special pair
+of V lines to cross the permanent ones on the studio floor. When the
+camera is placed at the apex of this larger V, the picture is,
+naturally, made many feet deeper, with a corresponding width of
+background as the lines diverge.
+
+
+_2. Number of Stages Used_
+
+As a rule, there are at least four of these V-shaped stages side by
+side on the floor of the studio in any of the big producing plants.
+Thus four entirely different sets may adjoin each other; and, as was
+pointed out in a previous chapter, a director may finish Scene 8 in
+Set I and move directly to Set II, where the scene "done" may be 9, or
+any later scene, depending very often upon whether the players will
+have to make a change of costume or make-up. A careful director will
+always try to avoid waits by having his scenes set up in the order
+that will allow him to proceed with as few delays as possible.
+
+In some studios, the fact that walls and ceiling are of glass permits
+the taking of most scenes, on a bright day, without the aid of
+artificial light. In the majority of studios, however, all scenes
+taken indoors are produced with the aid of artificial light, daylight
+being excluded. Natural lighting, in _indoor_ studios, has been found
+to be rather unsatisfactory; artificial lighting, with constant
+experimentation in an effort to produce better "effects," is what is
+most used today.
+
+
+_3. Stage Lighting_
+
+The Cooper-Hewitt system of interior lighting is probably the most
+used in the various Eastern and West-coast studios. Everyone--at any
+rate, everyone living in the city--is familiar with the peculiar
+lights used in many photographers' studios. These Cooper-Hewitt lights
+seem to be merely large glass tubes that shed a ghastly blue-green
+tinge over everything, and under which photographers may take pictures
+regardless of exterior light-conditions. In addition to the
+Cooper-Hewitt lights, in a studio equipped with that system, there
+are, of course, various other kinds of special lights used in
+obtaining certain unusual effects.
+
+In other studios, a brilliant white light is used, rows of overhead
+lights being supplemented by tiers, or "banks," of side-lights, so
+that there is no shadow on any part of the set unless it is the
+specific purpose of the director to _have_ a shadow in a certain
+place.
+
+One of the big producing plants has two studios--one in which both
+daylight and artificial light are used, and another, at the top of the
+building, with glass walls, and a ceiling which constitutes the roof
+of the building, where every scene is taken with natural light. On a
+bright day the latter studio is used; if there is no sunlight at all,
+the downstairs studio is kept busy. On the immense floor of the
+daylight studio, as many as eight different ordinary sets may be
+erected side by side at one time.
+
+During the past five or six years, and especially since the Pacific
+Coast has become a great photoplay-producing centre, more and more
+"interior" scenes are made on outdoor stages. This method of taking
+the scenes in a picture has now been reduced to a fine art. The
+outdoor stages, not needing the artificial lighting systems, have
+their various overhead and side screens, so that scenes may be
+photographed regardless of the natural light-conditions.
+
+Frequently the director will put up a special outdoor stage
+overlooking the sea, or a beautiful garden or landscape, on which to
+build a certain interior setting planned to have that outlook. Indeed,
+today, the artificial background for any interior having windows or
+open doors is unusual. In Jacksonville, Florida, and other southern
+cities, as well as in California, the outdoor stage is the most used.
+The outdoor stage is especially useful in taking, let us say, a scene
+showing the interior of a house supposedly during a heavy storm, with
+the rain beating against the windows and being dashed in at the door
+when it is opened. On the exterior stage, such a scene can be taken at
+almost any hour of the day, and with the screens to dim and diffuse
+the rays of the sun, and the skillful use of an ordinary hose in the
+hands of the property-man or assistant director, a very realistic
+storm scene can be secured. Many extremely realistic rainstorm effects
+can also be arranged for exterior scenes, and as for lightning--sheet,
+forked, or any other variety--it is one of the easiest things to
+"get" imaginable. The mere scratching of the negative film with a pin,
+throughout the number of frames covering the flash of the lightning,
+the scratching, of course, being in the shape the lightning is to
+take, makes it possible to have thrillingly natural stabs of fork and
+chain lightning just where it is needed in any scene. You need never
+hesitate to call for a lightning storm if your story warrants one at a
+certain point.
+
+A practical point in favor of the outdoor stages is that there is a
+tremendous saving in the company's bill for lighting. Besides the
+cost, the outdoor "interiors" are as satisfactory in every way as
+those made beneath the artificial lights.
+
+It is unnecessary to point out to anyone who has visited the picture
+theatres that outdoor scenes taken at night are now as common as
+exteriors photographed at mid-day. Everything from camp-fire effects
+to night battle-scenes has been accomplished with wonderful results.
+Interior effects of firelight, moonlight, candle-light, etc, are
+easily procured, and are usually most convincing and sometimes
+exceedingly beautiful, when taken in conjunction with the setting.
+
+
+_4. Rehearsals of Scenes_
+
+Different studios have different rules for preventing so much as the
+possibility of there being some fault with the photography when a
+certain scene is "done." In some studios the rule is to take every
+scene at least twice, or even three times. When the films are
+developed, the one which is not only clearest and sharpest
+photographically, but which shows--even though by ever so small a
+difference--the best action on the part of the players, is kept, and
+from this the positives are printed. In other studios, each scene is
+taken only once at first; and if the film proves to be faulty the
+scene must be retaken, even though a day or so later. In every studio,
+of course, each scene is rehearsed before being "done." Sometimes
+running over the scene once or twice is sufficient, while other big
+scenes may be rehearsed fifteen or twenty times. Not only to obtain
+the best effects in action and grouping is a scene rehearsed many
+times, but repeated goings over are often necessary in order to change
+the action slightly, or to cut it down so that it will run only a
+certain number of seconds, each sixty seconds representing,
+approximately, as many feet of film.
+
+
+_5. Respect for Stage Limitations_
+
+At all times you must keep in mind the limitations of the photoplay
+stage. If you have the picture eye, as described in Chapter X, you
+will be able to see just what you can, and can not, write into a
+picture so that it will register. If it does not register, it might
+better not have been written. As Mr. Sargent once said, "Pretty nearly
+everything is possible to the camera, but not all things are
+practicable." In the same article, he gave a practical illustration of
+camera limitation that should guide photoplay authors in determining
+what not to write:
+
+"Suppose you've written a chase scene. A band of horsemen dash through
+the picture. The hero is wounded and falls from his horse, rolling to
+the side of the road. The pursuers thunder past and then the heroine
+comes in and rescues the hero. This is photographically possible, but
+not practical. The dust and the smoke will create a haze that will dim
+the end of the scene. It can be done by letting the hero lie while the
+dust settles, the camera being stopped meanwhile, but unless the scene
+is strong enough to repay this trouble the script will be passed over
+in favor of one that can be made without so much fuss."
+
+Almost every day, directors and cameramen--especially cameramen--risk
+life and limb in an effort to secure some novel scenic effect as a
+background for their pictures. It should be remembered, however, that
+what the director may choose to do when it comes actually to taking
+the scene has nothing to do with the scene as you write it--so far as
+the actual background is concerned. Do not demand that the struggle
+between the sheriff and the leader of the cattle rustlers must take
+place upon just such and such a kind of precipice. You may be certain
+that if the situation is a strong one the producer will spare neither
+time nor pains to secure the most perfect setting it is possible for
+him to obtain.
+
+The moving picture camera, it is well to remember, is of no light
+weight when set up on its massive tripod. The cameraman cannot place
+it in position to take all the pictures that you might be able to take
+with a snap-shot camera held between the hands. The body of the
+camera, without the tripod, may be placed upon the overhead beams in a
+studio in order to get some novel scenic effect below; or a special
+platform may be built for camera and operator when the director is
+determined to get a scene on the side of a cliff, where no neighboring
+cliff or rocky platform was furnished by nature; but when the director
+goes to such pains as these to obtain an effect there is a reason, and
+generally the reason is an unusually strong story that justifies
+special effort on the part of all concerned in its production.
+
+Mr. William E. Fildew, one of the foremost screen cameramen, long
+associated with director William Christy Cabanne, says in _The Moving
+Picture World_:
+
+"As to what constitutes the greatest difficulty in the making of
+motion pictures, I should reply the insecurity of the tripod in the
+making of outdoor scenes. Exteriors require the greatest amount of
+attention from the cameraman because of the varying light and shade
+and the mobility of the camera itself and its liability to accident.
+The location chosen by the expert may be all that is desired, and
+there may be a whole lot of trained performers, but you can't get a
+trained camera. The tripod must be nursed like a contrary child. It
+_must_ be firmly set." Mr. Fildew speaks of the difficulty he had, on
+one occasion, when he was obliged to follow the progress of an express
+train while operating his camera from an aeroplane, they being
+constantly buffeted by pockets of wind, while flying for many miles at
+a low altitude in order to keep within the desired focus. He cites
+another case, when he was photographing the sea scenes for the Fine
+Arts picture, "Daphne and the Pirates," the waters outside San
+Francisco Bay being chosen for the locale. A pirate ship crew was to
+board a merchant ship, and a big battle to follow on the latter's
+deck. A heavy storm came up just as the two ships came together, and
+Mr. Fildew, 120 feet up in the air, holding to a mast that swayed like
+a pendulum, was compelled to go through with what was a most difficult
+and dangerous piece of work, which, however, resulted in some
+exceptionally fine scenes. In these instances, of course, it was a
+matter of the director's planning almost everything just as he wanted
+to take it; the point we insist upon is that it is better to write
+certain difficult scenes more in the form of a suggestion than as if
+it were absolutely necessary to take them just as you have visualized
+them. Not a few successful writers try to think of two different ways
+in which an important part of the story may be "put over." Thus, just
+as an off-hand example, you might suggest that the running fight
+between the bank robbers and the police may take place in a couple of
+automobiles _or_ in an auto and a locomotive. Rest assured that the
+director will provide the locomotive instead of the second automobile
+if he can procure one.
+
+Watch the pictures on the screen and you will see what effects are
+produced; and it follows that if a thing can be done once it can be
+done again. But will it be _worth while_ in the case of _your_ story?
+This is a point that you must determine before venturing to specify
+that particular effect. Do not be carried away by the fact that it
+_is_ your work. Weigh the importance of that scene and compare it with
+the dramatic value of the scenes which precede and follow it; if the
+scene with the unusual and difficult effect is the big scene of an
+unusually big and interesting story, write it in. The chances are that
+the director will be only too glad to stage it according to your
+original idea. But do not ask him to waste his time or the company's
+money in producing a scene the expense and bother of obtaining which
+is out of all proportion to the importance of the rest of the picture.
+And do not forget that the camera, wonderful as it is, cannot and does
+not do everything that it seems to do. In other words, do not mistake
+an effect produced by trick photography for one that is merely the
+result of exceptional care and work on the part of both cameraman and
+director.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+HOW TO GATHER IDEAS FOR PLOTS
+
+
+_1. Watching the Pictures_
+
+Unless you are already a successful fiction writer when you first
+determine to write photoplays it is not going too far to assert that
+you have never yet really watched a motion picture. You have
+_witnessed_ many, but only the playwright and the theatrical man may
+be said to _watch_ plays, whether on the stage or on the screen, with
+every faculty alert and receptive, ready to pounce on any suggestion,
+any bit of stage business, any scenic effect, or any situation, that
+they may legitimately copy or enlarge upon for their respective uses.
+This keen attitude is partly a matter of inborn dramatic instinct, but
+it is even more a matter of training and habit--therefore cultivate
+it.
+
+Not only does the professional photoplaywright remain wide
+awake when watching real photoplays, but he often finds as much
+plot-suggestion in other classes of films as there is in the
+story-pictures, for plot-germs fairly abound in scenics, vocationals,
+microcinematographics, educationals, and topicals, as these several
+sorts are called by the craft. A certain successful writer has sold no
+less than thirty photoplays, all the plots of which sprang from
+scenics and educationals. One, for example, was built upon an idea
+picked up in watching a film picturing the making of tapioca in the
+Philippines.
+
+At the outstart you must admit to yourself that to see every release
+of every company is impossible, and even if it were possible it would
+be unnecessary. In the big cities, for example, it is often difficult
+to locate a theatre that is exhibiting the particular picture you are
+anxious to see, either on the date of its release or later. Nothing is
+more common in a moving picture studio than to hear one actor say to
+another: "Tonight such and such a theatre is showing such and such a
+picture [one in which they have worked]; let's go over to see it." And
+if the actor is anxious to study acting through watching the work of
+himself and others on the screen, how much more should the writer be
+willing and anxious to study the technique of the photoplay by paying
+frequent visits to the picture theatres? Try, then, to see as many
+photoplays as your time and means will permit, for purposes of study.
+Nor do we recommend seeing only pictures that the critics have
+praised, for it is possible, at times, to learn as much from a poor
+picture as from a good one. You must teach yourself, as you watch the
+screen, what to _leave out_, as well as what to put in; we may learn
+much from the mistakes of others.
+
+One point especially worthy of notice is that when you see a good
+picture on the screen it may be one written by a successful
+photoplaywright, and as such likely to repay close study to see how
+the successful construct their stories. Or it may be a picture written
+in the producing studio from the bare idea purchased from an
+"outsider." In either case, look out for and carefully study the
+pictured stories produced by writers who are "putting them over."
+
+If you are taking up photoplay writing as a profession, or even as an
+avocation, there is only one way to undertake it--be fully equipped to
+succeed. It is not enough, as we said in an early chapter, to have had
+previous training as a fiction writer; nor enough to have acquired a
+knowledge of photoplay form and construction. You must be "up to the
+minute" in your knowledge of the market for scripts. Therefore be in
+touch with what writers, editors, and producers are doing. Do
+everything in your power to avoid writing stories similar to others
+that have been done within the past year or two, at least. It is not
+merely a question of plagiarism, important as that is--it is a matter
+of helping yourself to sell your script by not offering old ideas to
+the editors. Fully one-half of the _good_ stories that go back to the
+authors are returned because the companies have already done a similar
+picture and do not wish to have exhibitors and their patrons declare
+that "The Cosmopolitan Company must be writing over their old pictures
+because they can't get new stuff."
+
+
+_2. What to Look for in a Picture_
+
+Besides avoiding the similar use of ideas that have been utilized by
+others, it is most important in watching a picture to be able to see
+what the one who wrote it did _not_ see--to be able to pick up an idea
+that he _might_ have employed in working out his story, and from it
+get the inspiration and plot-foundation for a photoplay of your own.
+In addition to studying the action to see how certain effects are
+produced, count the number of scenes and the number of leaders used in
+the different makes of pictures. It will serve as a guide to what the
+different makers want. In case you do not care to sit through a second
+showing of the film, or do not want to risk missing part of the
+picture by counting the scenes and leaders, make a practice of
+carrying a few small cards, with a line drawn down the middle of each.
+As the card is held in the hand, mark with a pencil a short stroke on
+one side for every change of scene, and on the other side a stroke for
+each leader, letter, or other insert--this will serve as a convenient
+record-device.
+
+
+_3. The Note-Book Habit_
+
+To have the plot-instinct is a great blessing for the writer. Lacking
+this, however, the most valuable asset he can possess is the note-book
+habit. Carry one with you _constantly_. Jot down everything that may
+be of help in framing and developing a plot, as well as in creating a
+dramatic scene for a story. Remember that plots are not lying around
+fully developed, awaiting only some observant eye to discover them,
+but they almost always grow out of single ideas--plot-germs--which one
+may recognize as incidents and situations in everyday life or in
+unusual circumstances. Do not wait for the fully developed plot to
+come to you, for the chances are that it will not. Jot down the single
+idea and in time it may germinate and become a fully developed
+plot--even though you may have to use hot-house methods and force its
+growth.
+
+[Illustration: William S. Hart, Leaning on the Camera, with part of
+His Supporting Company and the Cameraman and His Assistant in a Scene
+from "The Poppy Girl's Husband," an Artcraft Picture]
+
+[Illustration: Harry Beaumont Directing Fight Scene Between Tom Moore,
+Goldwyn Star, and the Villain, in "A Man and His Money"]
+
+It seems incredible that any writer, knowing, as he must, that the
+idea, the plot-germ, is what really makes the story, should neglect to
+note it down the moment it comes to him; and yet there are those who
+simply trust memory to retain an impression. In the photoplay
+especially "the idea's the thing" for here you cannot depend on
+description or on good writing to sell your story.
+
+The rule of jotting down your thought on the instant does not apply
+merely to ideas that come as inspirations, or thoughts suggested by
+what you read or see, but it applies especially to the ideas that come
+to you at the time you give yourself up to concentrated thinking in
+play-production. A certain writer on the photoplay--we do not recall
+who--once wrote a paragraph headed "When do you do your thinking?"
+This critic found that he could think best when riding, say on a
+street car. Others have discovered that ideas come to them most freely
+when they are sitting in a theatre. One writer has learned that his
+best plot-ideas come to him after he lies down for the night. For this
+reason, a tabouret with pad and pencil always stands at his bedside,
+and a special self-installed switch for the electric light is within
+reach of his hand. Now, with his note-book always with him when he is
+away from home, with note-books and card-indexes close at hand when he
+_is_ at home, and with the means of instantly putting his thoughts on
+paper if they come to him after he has gone to bed, he knows that he
+is in a position to take advantage of every stray idea that may
+contain a plot germ, or that may aid him in developing a story already
+in course of construction.
+
+If the beginner would only understand the importance of systematic
+note-making, he would soon reduce by one-half the labor of unearthing
+plots for his stories.
+
+
+_4. The Borrowed Plot_
+
+All is grist that comes to the mill of the writer who keeps a
+note-book. Almost everything that he reads, sees, or hears, offers
+some plot-suggestion, or suggests a better way of working out the plot
+he has already partly developed. But, in taking plot-ideas from the
+daily papers and writing stories suggested by the anecdotes and the
+conversation of friends, proceed with great care, lest you make
+trouble for yourself or for others. In a later chapter we show how
+many cases of alleged plagiarism are simply the results of two people
+taking the same idea from the same newspaper paragraph. The point here
+made is that if you take an idea from a newspaper item there are three
+courses open to you--one safe course, and two not safe. The unsafe
+ways are, to recopy the story bodily, using in your story all the
+facts set forth in the news item; or else to change it only enough to
+insure its being "the same, yet not the same." If you adopt either of
+these two foolish and dangerous methods, you are extremely likely to
+find that you have either been forestalled by someone who wrote a
+story on the subject before you did, or that your story, following
+closely the original facts, has given offense to someone who was
+concerned in the actual case. If you live in a small community, the
+risk of thus offending is, of course, correspondingly greater.
+
+The one safe way is to use the plot-germ, and _only_ the plot-germ,
+taken from the item in the paper. If you can take the central idea and
+remodel it so that the very reporter who wrote the original item would
+not recognize it, you may legitimately claim to have produced an
+original story. That is, moreover, what you _should_ do, leaving aside
+all questions of your script's being accepted, and the possibility of
+its being refused because of its similarity to one previously
+purchased from some other writer.
+
+The main incidents of a prominent court trial may supply you with an
+idea for a strong, original story, but you should not think of
+following the facts of the case just as they occurred in real life. To
+_copy_ a story from a newspaper item and to _get_ a story from the
+same source are two entirely different things. Press clippings, as an
+author once remarked, "are not first aid to the feeble minded. They
+are merely sign-posts that point the way to the initiated." And
+another has said: "It is the art of seeing and appreciating just a
+line or two in some newspaper item and working it up that makes
+newspaper study pay."
+
+The really practised writer realizes that the best plot-suggestions
+are to be found in the shorter news items--the five-to-ten-line
+fillers--and not in the big sensations of the day. But then, the
+practised writer can find ideas anywhere.
+
+One thing of which the beginner should beware is the practise of
+writing stories from plots suggested by friends. As a rule, the young
+writer, not yet having learned to think for himself, is quick to
+accept these friendly suggestions. He is told the outline of an
+unusually good story and straightway turns it into a photoplay. It is
+accepted, but a short while after it has been released someone
+recognizes in it a short-story that has appeared in a popular
+magazine. It is not difficult to imagine the result--before very long
+the film manufacturing company is compelled, whether by a sense of
+justice or by law, to make settlement with the magazine company
+holding the copyright on the original story, and the beginner finds
+that he is decidedly _persona non grata_ with at least one
+manufacturer. Should the matter become generally known, he is likely
+to find himself barred by other companies also, as every editor has an
+inborn dread of the plagiarist, even though he may have been innocent
+of any thought of wrong doing.
+
+
+_5. Keeping Well Informed_
+
+The best means of avoiding unconscious plagiarism and the use of old
+material is to keep informed as fully as you possibly can of what is
+released week by week. You cannot be too well posted on what is going
+on in the photoplay business-world. Your selling-average will be
+higher as a result. The editor knows what is old and what is new, and
+so must you, though doubtless not so perfectly. Every editor's office
+is stocked with books, reference works, magazines, trade publications,
+and files of newspaper clippings. These all contain something of
+practical value in working up the bare ideas bought from contributors
+or in writing his own story--for editors as well as producers often
+write photoplays.
+
+You can hardly go too far in making a study of the various
+motion-picture trade journals, because, quite apart from the material
+furnished by the different studio publicity departments--which
+material, for a certain week, may be practically the same in all the
+publicity mediums--each periodical may be depended upon to have at
+frequent intervals if not in every issue some good special article
+that will either help to instruct the writer or furnish a "tip" as to
+the immediate needs of a certain company. While we make special
+mention of _The Moving Picture World_ because of the fact that it has
+had Mr. Sargent's department as a regular feature for over eight
+years, we also recommend the student to keep regularly in touch with
+what is published in the _Motion Picture News_ (New York), the _New
+York Dramatic Mirror_, _Motography_ (Chicago), and--for the sake of
+their critical reviews--any other trade periodicals he may be able to
+procure. Apart from the trade journals, you can always be sure of
+finding well-written special articles or regular departments of
+interest to photoplaywrights in such monthly and semi-monthly
+magazines as _Photoplay_ (Chicago), _Motion Picture Magazine_ and
+_Motion Picture Classic_ (Brooklyn, N.Y.), _Picture-play Magazine_
+(New York), and _Moving Picture Stories_ (New York). Many popular
+magazines also print excellent photoplay material frequently and such
+craft-periodicals as _The Writer's Monthly_ (Springfield, Mass.) are
+always especially helpful to authors. All such tools of the writer's
+trade you should get as regularly as you can--and _use_ them.
+
+So long as you get your plot-ideas honestly, where you get them is
+altogether your own matter. But get them you must, for, as A. Van
+Buren Powell has said: "Everyone will grant that in photoplay writing
+'The Idea's the thing.' The script of the beginner, carrying a
+brand-new idea, will find acceptance where the most technical
+technique in the world, disguising a revamped story, will fail to coax
+the coy check from its lair."
+
+_So, let your ideas be original._ Get your inspiration, your
+plot-germ, from any source, but be sure that, before you claim the
+story for your own, you have so changed and reconstructed the original
+that it is absolutely yours.
+
+Here is a paragraph by Mr. Eugene V. Brewster, in _Motion Picture
+Magazine_, of which he is editor: "It is extremely difficult to think
+out a plot that has not been done before. You may not have seen it
+before, you may have invented the whole thing out of your brain, but
+the probabilities are that the manufacturers have done the same thing,
+with slight variations, time and time again, and that the same idea
+has been submitted to them dozens of times. You may think you have
+worked out something entirely new, but you should remember that the
+regular writers employed by the manufacturers have been reading and
+thinking for years in an effort to devise something new, and that they
+have been trained to do this very thing."
+
+True, it _is_ difficult to think out a plot that has not been done
+before; but this very fact, instead of discouraging the writer, should
+offer him the greater incentive to discover original ideas for his
+stories. That the manufacturers are once in a while forced to make
+over their old plays should convince the photoplaywright that they are
+more than willing to buy new ones if they are the kind they are
+looking for, and that he should study the market to see what the
+manufacturers want, and then write the kind they _are_ looking for.
+
+Lastly, we would say most emphatically that the staff-writers employed
+by the different companies have absolutely no advantage over the
+trained and intelligent free-lance author in the production of
+original plays. It is just as hard to think up original plots if one
+is on the salary list of one of the manufacturers as it is for you who
+do your work at home and turn out only one script a month. The
+important fact is, that the staff-writer would never have been offered
+the position he holds had not the editor recognized his ability to
+keep up a fairly steady output of plays with plots and technical
+points of more than average merit. He was an original writer _before_
+he became a member of the staff, _not because_ he is in the employ of
+the producer.
+
+The field is wide and growing, but nowhere is there room for
+untrained, incompetent, hit-or-miss dabblers. The man who is in
+earnest, who keeps in touch with what is going on in the trade, who
+watches the pictures to gain ideas and inspiration, who studies the
+life about him to find plot-suggestions and motives, and who, once
+started, keeps at it--working, working, working--cannot fail to find
+that his reward will justify the effort.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+WHAT YOU CANNOT WRITE
+
+
+The caption of this chapter must be taken as a serious warning that
+there are certain things which you cannot write into a script unless
+you wish to insure its rejection. These specific warnings are based on
+the experiences of amateurs who have had their scripts returned with
+the brief and unsatisfactory statement that they were "not available
+for present use," or that the "cost of production is too great."
+
+
+_1. Asking the Impossible or the Impracticable_
+
+It is a constant source of mingled amusement and dismay to editors to
+read some of the impossible or impracticable things that amateur
+photoplaywrights wish to have done in the course of the action of
+their stories. Three things are responsible for this common fault in
+photoplay plotting: the writer's very limited knowledge of the
+limitations of the photoplay stage; an intense desire to be original;
+and the fact that, having seen in the pictures themselves so many
+evidences that the manufacturers do not let the question of expense
+stand in the way of attaining spectacular and realistic effects, they
+go blindly ahead and introduce scenes to take which would so
+enormously run up the cost of producing the picture that the expense
+involved would be out of all proportion to the value of the scene as a
+part of the story.
+
+Better to illustrate these points, we reproduce a paragraph from an
+article by Mr. R.R. Nehls, manager of the American Film Manufacturing
+Company:
+
+"Ordinary judgment should tell a writer about what is possible in the
+way of stage equipment to carry out a plot. We can provide almost
+anything in reason, such as wireless instruments, automobiles, houses
+of every description, cattle, etc., but we cannot wreck passenger
+trains, dam up rivers, and burn up mansions merely to produce a single
+picture. There is no rule to guide you in these matters save your own
+common sense."
+
+Now, the foregoing paragraph was written by Mr. Nehls some six years
+ago. We include his opinion in this volume, however, because it is
+absolutely necessary to consider expense when planning a story for the
+screen. On the other hand, it must be said for the benefit of the new
+and talented writer who really has or can evolve big situations for
+his stories that never in the history of the motion picture have
+manufacturers been so ready to do the big thing in a big way as they
+are now. That is to say--and this whole statement should have your
+most careful consideration--the only thing that a manufacturer
+considers today is the question of whether or not a certain effect,
+scenic, mechanical, or whatever it may be, is _worth_ the money which
+would have to be spent to obtain it. It would be folly to say that
+train wrecks, burning houses, destroyed bridges, and the like, are
+"impossible" in a film story, after every patron of the picture houses
+has seen on the screen everything from the wrecking by earthquake of a
+whole village to the burning of a huge sailing vessel--have seen, in
+very fact, almost everything that it is possible to see on the earth,
+above the earth, or in the waters under it. We have indeed reached a
+period of amazing spectacular effects, produced, in most cases, at
+enormous cost. And yet today a far closer watch is kept on the cost
+than ever before.
+
+How are we to reconcile these two apparently conflicting statements?
+The answer is simple: Nothing is too costly if it pays for itself--as
+reckoned by the sale of prints when the picture is placed on the
+market. If, for example, "The Birth of a Nation," "Civilization,"
+"Cabiria," "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea," and ever so many
+other super-features that have been made since these were produced,
+had cost twice as much as they actually did, they would still have
+been exceedingly profitable ventures for the ones who put them out. If
+you have the story to justify the big scenes and effects you will
+unhesitatingly be provided with all the effects the story calls for.
+Today, economy is practiced _after_ the story has been purchased; the
+unusually good plot is not persistently returned because of the
+expense attached to putting it into film form. Ways and means are
+found within the studio to produce, for every thousand dollars paid
+out, an effect--a result--such as to make it appear that from three to
+five times that amount has been expended. Sometimes, indeed, an
+effect produced at comparatively trifling expense, often by trick
+photography or by "faking" or substituting for some expensive
+property, is even _more effective_ than the real thing would have
+been. As an example, the effect on the screen of a miniature--a
+"fake"--Zeppelin falling through the clouds, a blazing mass, was
+convincing, thrilling and easy to produce, whereas from the
+spectator's point of view it would have been well nigh impossible to
+make a satisfactory photograph of a real Zeppelin consumed by flames
+and falling to destruction, even though it had been both possible and
+financially worth while to burn a real dirigible.
+
+Another thing to be remembered is that Mr. Nehls wrote his statement
+at a time when one-reel pictures were the rule; and what would have
+been considered enormously expensive for a single-reel story is not
+thought so much of when it is to be included in a production of five
+reels or over. A good rule, followed by many successful writers, is to
+plan your story--estimating as well as you can according to what
+unusual effects or settings, are called for--so that a five-reel
+subject, say, will not call for more than five times the outlay
+demanded by a single-reel picture. It is not an easy thing to do, we
+will admit; but you can do your best to figure the expense in this
+way. Many manufacturers are willing to pay out as much for a
+thoroughly good five-reel picture as some others would pay for a
+six-or seven-reel feature; if they do so in the case of _your_ story
+so much the better for you, in the light of the additional credit you
+will receive for having turned out an especially fine piece of work.
+The point is: Don't be too ready to add to the expense merely because
+it is a multiple-reel story. The test should be: Is the expensive
+scene or effect absolutely essential to a proper unfolding of your
+plot? If it is, include it; if not, leave it out or find as good a
+substitute effect as you can. In any event, omit expensive scenes for
+minor parts of your plot.
+
+
+_2. Considering the Expense of Settings_
+
+Do not write a scene into your scenario that will necessitate too much
+work for scenic artists, carpenters, and property men. A truly big
+theme is, of course, entitled to careful, and even elaborate, staging;
+but it is usually only necessary to set forth the big theme and
+describe the setting in a general way; the producer will do the rest.
+Do not be extravagant in your requirements. This should be one of your
+first considerations when you start to write a scene: could it be
+played as well in some other setting that would not require so much
+"staging?" Perhaps, in the setting that you thought of first, it might
+be necessary to use several extra people, thereby adding to the cost
+of production. No doubt it would be very pretty and effective to have
+Ralph make up his quarrel with Dorothy as she sits down close to the
+camera in the crowded ball-room; but, if the play did not already
+contain a ball-room scene, could not the reconciliation be shown just
+as well in the library or on the street near her home or in a
+drawing-room scene where only a few guests are assembled, the guests
+all being regular members of the stock company?
+
+Some pictures calling for special properties and extra people fully
+justify the additional expenditure; others do not. He is a wise writer
+who knows his own script well enough to be able to judge.
+
+
+_3. How Some "Too Expensive" Scenes Were Taken_
+
+In a great many cases, pictures containing aeroplanes, burning oil
+wells, railroad wrecks, houses that are completely gutted by fire, and
+other exceptionally spectacular features, are the result of the merest
+chance. For example, a few years ago the Thanhouser studio at New
+Rochelle, N.Y., caught fire and burned to the ground. The fire was a
+spectacular one, as the chemical contents of the building burned like
+powder, and there were several explosions. The fire occurred at 1.30
+o'clock in the afternoon, and many of the players were at lunch at
+their hotels when the alarm was turned in. But the players, the
+cameraman, and the director quickly got together, and even before the
+fire was well out they had produced a thrilling fire picture, "When
+the Studio Burned," in which was shown the rescue of the "Thanhouser
+Kid" by Miss Marguerite Snow, then leading woman of the company. Thus
+advantage was taken of an unfortunate happening to add to the fame of
+the Thanhouser company.
+
+Again, it may happen that several scenes of a big fire are taken while
+it is in progress, and the film laid aside until a suitable photoplay
+is either written by a staff-writer or sent in by an outside author.
+Then the picture is completed, the fire scenes previously taken being
+inserted between other scenes showing the action of the plot.
+
+One of the most thrilling and realistic fire pictures ever produced
+was "The Incendiary Foreman," released by Pathe Freres early in 1908.
+It had a well-developed plot that kept the dramatic interest keyed up
+every moment, but the features of the film were the many thrillingly
+realistic fire scenes, in which the Parisian fire department battled
+with the flames while several enormous buildings were being destroyed.
+One of the earlier scenes depicted the yard of the Pathe factory, and
+showed a quarrel between the foreman and one of the workmen. The
+ensuing action led one to believe that this was the factory that was
+consumed by the flames, but one or two of the later scenes made it
+plain to those who could read French and who watched the picture
+closely that the actual fire scenes had been taken during the
+destruction of an immense oil refinery. Yet the combination of the
+rehearsed scenes and the views of the real and disastrous
+conflagration made a picture that drew record-breaking houses to every
+theatre where it was exhibited.
+
+Again, whether or not the producing concern releases a weekly or
+semi-weekly current-events reel, every company at times makes use of
+portions of such pictures, either made by themselves or procured from
+other firms. In the same way, educational pictures of every kind are
+made use of--certain parts of them, that is--to provide fitting and
+convincing atmosphere for original stories. When the Whartons put out
+their very fine patriotic serial, "The Eagle's Eye," written and
+produced with the intention of exposing the plots formed in the United
+States by agents of the Imperial German Government, the first episode
+was called "The Hidden Death," and showed on the screen exactly how,
+in all probability, the sinking of the _Lusitania_ was brought about
+by Count von Bernstorff and his various agents. The actual
+advertisement placed in New York City newspapers by the German Embassy
+at Washington, warning all travelers that they sailed on steamers
+belonging to Great Britain at their own risk, as a state of war
+existed between that country and Germany, was shown on the screen, as
+were several photographs of newspaper first pages with news of the
+crime after it had been perpetrated. Also, the _Lusitania_ was shown
+sailing down the North River toward the Upper Bay, starting on her
+last voyage. This picture, of course, was at least three years old at
+the time the film was shown in the theatres, and may have been much
+more than that, since many pictures of this and other great ocean
+liners have been made in years past, and at times when no one could
+possibly have guessed their ultimate fate.
+
+Practically every photoplay of the Great War that has been released up
+to the present time has been made up in part of scenes taken on one of
+the fighting fronts, at the American, British or other training camps,
+or during street parades and military reviews, these pictures having
+first been made for news weeklies, official war pictures, or for
+patriotic propaganda purposes. Fitted in as a part of a war story,
+they greatly enhance the effect of those scenes which are entirely the
+creation of the author's brain.
+
+On one occasion, a certain Edison director was putting on a feature
+which showed--as originally written--the sinking in mid-ocean of a
+great liner. While rehearsing the scene on deck which showed the
+passengers taking to the life-boats, he made repeated experiments with
+certain lightning effects, none of which quite satisfied him. He also
+had some trouble with one of the made-to-order life-boats. Finally,
+rather disgusted with the way things were going, he decided to cut out
+the lowering-of-the-boats scene and to have a fire at sea instead of a
+mere foundering. In a very few minutes, with the aid of "smoke-pots"
+and "blow-torches" a thrilling burning-ship scene was made, with the
+people scrambling toward the life-boats. Later, several long-distance
+views of the burning of a real ocean vessel, made by the company
+several years before, were introduced with most convincing effect,
+while the action of the story was in no way interfered with on account
+of the change. The scene described, of course, was made in the studio,
+with a specially built deck scene. Had there been other scenes aboard
+ship needed in the story's working out, the director would undoubtedly
+have secured permission to take all the scenes needed aboard one of
+the ocean liners always to be found in the port of New York.
+
+So it is that hundreds of pictures released every year contain
+thrilling, unusual, and beautiful effects which the author has never
+dreamed of writing into his scenario, but which have been supplied by
+a careful director with a memory for what the company has made in the
+past. And the thing to be remembered, of course, is that while it is
+very easy for a director to use something which is already made and in
+the company's possession--or readily procurable from another
+company--it is not so easy, at times, _to make_ the big scene or
+effect that the novice introduces into his story.
+
+Leaving aside the staff-writers, in almost every company[24] there are
+one or two photoplaywrights; in many cases the leading man is also the
+director of the company, writing and producing a great many of the
+plays they turn out. Where this is so, that company is in a position
+to take advantage of any unforeseen happening or accident. Being in
+the vicinity of a railroad wreck, they hurry to the place and take the
+scenes they need. Then, probably many miles away, and on an entirely
+different railroad line, with the permission of the company and
+possibly at a slight extra expense, they take the other railroad
+scenes--perhaps a week after taking those at the scene of the wreck.
+
+[Footnote 24: "Company," as here used, refers to the group of players
+working under a certain director, several such groups making up the
+stock company maintained by the film manufacturing concern.]
+
+Thus the unthinking amateur writer, seeing the result of the
+producer's efforts on the screen, takes it for granted that the
+company has gone to the expense of buying up several old coaches and
+an engine or two and producing an actual wreck merely for the sake of
+supplying some thrilling situations in a railroad drama. True,
+head-on collisions have been planned and pictured, box-cars have been
+thrown over embankments, automobiles have been burned, aeroplanes have
+been wrecked, and houses have been destroyed, to furnish thrilling
+episodes in the pictures produced by various companies, but unless the
+story itself fully justified the additional expense and trouble, it is
+safe to say that the company, having the opportunity to purchase some
+old engines and coaches cheap, took advantage of this to write and
+produce a picture in which their destruction could be featured--that
+is, the photoplay was the result of the special scene, and the scene
+was not made specially for that particular plot.
+
+To repeat, in introducing scenes that call for additional expenditure
+on the part of the manufacturer, the question to ask yourself is,
+_will the resulting effect really justify the added cost of
+production_?
+
+As a striking example of how unusual and--from the standpoint of what
+may be artificially arranged--seemingly impossible scenes may be used
+in photoplays, consider the following--and then avoid the introduction
+of such scenes unless you know _absolutely_ just how your effect may
+be obtained.
+
+The Vitagraph release, "A Wasted Sacrifice,"[25] more fully described
+in the next chapter, contained a scene in which a young Indian woman,
+stepping upon a rattlesnake, was bitten, and died. One scene showed
+her walking along, with the papoose on her back, all unsuspecting of
+the danger that threatened. Then came a close-up showing the rattler
+coiled with head raised. The next full-sized scene showed the woman
+just about to step upon the snake concealed in the grass. In the
+second close-up which followed, showing only the snake and the woman's
+moccasined feet, the reptile struck with startling swiftness and
+savageness. The whole effect was thrilling in the extreme--and we do
+not doubt that more than one young writer was tempted to write a story
+with a similar scene. But how often would a producer be able to obtain
+such an effect? It seems obvious that the scene was in stock and the
+play built around it, but the truth is that the scene was specially
+made. The snake was caught, and its poison extracted, and then the
+scenes were taken. In the close-up scene the snake was inside an
+enclosure stretched on the ground. The first close-up showed the
+snake, coiled. In the second, the girl was in the enclosure with the
+snake. But the close-up did not show the enclosure, of course. And
+rattlesnakes are not readily obtainable "props"!
+
+[Footnote 25: The synopsis of this photoplay is given in Chapter
+VIII.]
+
+
+_4. Animal Actors_
+
+Another mistake frequently made by the beginner is in writing stories
+that require the assistance of trick animals. We know one
+motion-picture actor who, at the time when he was on the extra list of
+a well-known Chicago company, wrote to a New York producer that he
+would furnish the working scenarios for two or three plays in which
+his trick dog could work provided that he himself were allowed to
+direct the scenes in which the animal took part. He was told to go
+on, and carried out his part of the contract as offered. The result
+was several very exceptional pictures in which his dog's clever work
+was featured. But how many writers are prepared not only to write the
+script but also to furnish the dog and direct its acting? It is better
+to leave the writing of such stories to some member of the company
+owning the trick animal.
+
+The Selig Company maintains a large menagerie, as does also the
+Universal Company; and a script in which caged animals are used might
+be accepted by them. Even a story requiring animals that were
+unconfined might "get by;" but it would be advisable, in either case,
+first to try to find out whether the director who would take such a
+picture considered the story worth while writing. That is, we think
+the photoplaywright would do well--although no such suggestion has
+been offered by either company--to send a _short_ synopsis of the
+story he intends to write, showing just how the animals would be made
+use of. We have no doubt that the editor would let you know if he
+considered the idea a good one; and if he did, you could complete your
+script or detailed synopsis. It would be understood, of course, that
+his approving your idea would in no way guarantee the acceptance of
+your script. But of one thing you might be sure: if your idea were not
+purchased, it would not be used at all, as every reputable company
+pays for everything they use.
+
+
+_5. Child Actors_
+
+What applies to animals applies equally to child actors: it is always
+best, before submitting a story in which a child plays an important
+part, to be reasonably certain that the company has such a juvenile
+player, or that they can procure a child with the necessary ability to
+perform the part. Several concerns have as members of their stock
+companies child actors of marked ability. In some studios, however,
+the director finds it necessary to "send out" for clever children of
+whom he may know--sometimes the child has acted under his direction
+before; sometimes he has heard the reports from directors of other
+companies--and if there is doubt in the director's mind that the child
+can handle the part, your story may be rejected as a result.
+
+
+_6. Costume Plays_
+
+In the chapter on "What You Should Write" we discuss the question of
+writing historical dramas, which come under the head of costume plays.
+It should be said here that, merely as an economical consideration,
+you should always avoid sending scripts calling for special--and
+therefore expensive--costuming to any company unless you know that
+they are in the habit of producing plays of that nature. By studying
+the pictures you see on the screen you can easily learn what companies
+go in for costume or historical plays; such companies are always glad
+to receive really strong and interesting stories of this character
+from outside writers.
+
+
+_7. Lighting_
+
+We have already touched upon the use of special lighting arrangements
+in special scenes, but it is well to say again that it is best to let
+the director decide how a scene shall be lighted. He will consider the
+matter from the standpoint of practicability and expense; you are very
+likely to think only of the effect. Don't be too ready to write scenes
+calling for verandas hung with electric lights in supposed night
+scenes, Japanese lanterns at garden parties, unique moonlight effects,
+and similar things that will make for expense--even if they are
+practicable.
+
+Finally, economy should always be the guide followed by the author in
+writing his story. If, after it has been accepted, the director
+chooses to stage it with more than ordinary care and expense, so much
+the better. But the director and not the author will be the one to
+decide how it is to be staged. If the story is good, it will not be
+slighted in its production.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+WHAT YOU SHOULD NOT WRITE
+
+
+_1. The Work of the Censors_
+
+From the time that you begin to write moving-picture plays, one
+important fact must be borne constantly in mind: The National Board of
+Censorship inspects and passes on all films before they are permitted
+to be released, and this Board will not pass any subject it considers
+objectionable. It is not our province to discuss the methods of the
+censors in making decisions, though in some sections the local board
+carries the censorship idea to extremes, even barring some subjects
+that have already passed the National Board. It is safe to say,
+however, that the folly of hacking to pieces a film portraying
+Shakespeare's tragedy of "Macbeth," on the ground that it contained
+too many scenes showing murder and other crimes, will soon become
+apparent even to over-zealous police and other censors of certain
+cities. As Mr. W. Stephen Bush writes in _The Moving Picture World_:
+"A very small and a very short-sighted minority of motion picture
+manufacturers, together with occasional lapses of National
+Censorship," are responsible for the exceedingly silly and
+presumptuous system now existent in some localities.
+
+It is because of this "small and short-sighted minority" that we offer
+this advice: Write as your conscience and a sense of decency as an
+individual and as a good citizen dictate. The chances are that then
+your photoplay will meet with no serious objection. Do not introduce a
+crime-scene into your picture simply because when you saw a similar
+scene in a photoplay it aroused a moment's thrill among the
+spectators. The fact that it passed the National Board and the local
+censorship committee--if your city has one--does _not_ mean that it is
+the kind of picture the better class of theatre patrons want, and the
+better class ought to be set up in your mind as the judges of all you
+write. A bad example will not justify you in writing a play containing
+objectionable scenes. The safe ground is the best ground because it is
+right.
+
+The following list of features disapproved by the National Board of
+Censorship gives a good general idea of the things that may be
+regarded as under the ban, not in one or two special cities, but
+throughout the country. It is not a copy of an official list, as, to
+the best of our knowledge, none such is sent out; it is merely a draft
+prepared by Mr. John F. Pribyl, then with the Selig Company, after he
+had had a conversation on the subject with the Secretary of the
+National Board, Mr. Walter Story, and courteously transmitted by Mr.
+Pribyl to the authors of this volume.
+
+
+DISAPPROVED BY THE NATIONAL BOARD OF CENSORSHIP
+
+_The Unwritten Law:_ The Board does not recognize the so-called
+unwritten law as a justification for the killing of any being.
+
+_Crime:_ 1. When crime is the obvious purpose of the picture--that is,
+when the whole story hinges on the perpetrated crime.
+
+2. When the crime is repulsive and shocks the spectator.
+
+3. The shooting in "cold blood" of any being.
+
+4. Any crime that portrays a unique method of execution.
+
+_Suicide:_ The Board will not pass a picture in which there is a
+suicide or any suggestion of a suicide, with incidents leading
+thereto. The purpose of the Board is to prevent all suggestion of
+self-destruction to those who are morbidly inclined.
+
+_Burglary:_ There is no objection to a burglary scene in a picture so
+long as there is no actual demonstration of the act of burglarizing;
+for instance, the burglar may be shown entering through an open
+window, but must not be shown in the act of "jimmying" the window. He
+may be shown with his back to the audience, opening a safe and
+extracting therefrom money or papers, but he must not be shown opening
+the safe by any means known to the art of burglars.
+
+_Vulgarity:_ All vulgarity and suggestion must be avoided. For
+instance, flirtations with women who are unmistakably of easy virtue.
+Letters making appointments with such women are objectionable, as is
+any "rough-house" conduct with them.
+
+_Mischief:_ The Board objects to pictures that will suggest to the
+mind of youth acts of mischief, such as mutilation or destruction of
+property for the purpose of perpetrating a joke on someone, especially
+playing jokes on invalids or cripples.
+
+_Lynching:_ Lynching is only permissible when the incident happens in
+the days when Lynch Law was the only law, i.e., in the early days of
+the Far West when the Vigilantes were the only effective means of
+enforcing order.
+
+
+_2. Other Objectionable Subjects_
+
+The foregoing, of course, is not a complete list, as points are coming
+up continually. For instance, scenes showing kidnapping are forbidden
+by the police of many cities, and the introduction of that form of
+crime into a film story is frowned upon by the National Board. The
+point is that scenes of crime and violence are not absolutely barred,
+nor are offenses against the moral law, but where permitted these must
+not be presented offensively, and they must be _essential_ to the
+story, rather than the _purpose_ of the play. This is a difficult
+point which nothing but common sense and experience can perfectly
+interpret.
+
+As an example, a story written about a murder or a robbery will not be
+passed, but such an incident may be allowed in a story in which it is
+not the leading feature. In any event, the incident must serve to
+point a moral and not serve as a spectacle.
+
+Another thing to remember is that--aside from the moving-pictures
+exhibited in the various "regular" theatres--dozens of incidents
+which are shown on the regular stage without being questioned in any
+way, would never be allowed on the screen. This is partly due to the
+fact that such a large percentage of the attendants of moving-picture
+theatres are children and undiscriminating adults. The writer of
+fiction entering the field of photoplay writing will do well to bear
+this further fact in mind: the very incident that might be the means
+of selling a story to a certain magazine might be the cause of a
+rejection if introduced into a moving-picture plot. The photoplay has
+standards all its own.
+
+"One type of the unpleasant drama," says a writer in the _Photoplay
+Magazine_, "is the kind showing scenes of drinking and wild
+debauchery, where some character becomes drunk and slinks home to his
+sickly wife, beats her, and then, finally, after reaching the last
+stages of becoming a sot, suddenly braces up and reforms." The same
+writer also remarks: "The only time that murder should be shown, _and
+that very delicately_, is either in a detective drama or else in good
+tragedy, where the removal of some character is essential to the
+plot." "Every one of Shakespeare's tragedies tells of crime," says an
+editorial in _The Moving Picture World_, "but does not exploit it, and
+never revels in the harrowing details to produce a thrill."
+
+It is not to be denied that careless and unthinking directors are
+responsible for a good deal of what is objectionable on the screen. At
+the same time--and this is especially true of comedy subjects--the
+director is merely, as a rule, carrying out the author's
+_suggestions_, if not his actual directions. The best way is not to
+give the director the opportunity to adopt objectionable
+features--leave even questionable incidents out of your photoplay.
+
+For example, the elopement is legitimate moving-picture material,
+provided it is not introduced in such a way as to instill mischief
+into the minds of young men and women. At least one picture was
+produced a year or so ago which showed two high-school girls eloping
+with a couple of young rakes who in another part of the photoplay
+"registered" that they were by no means the kind of young men who
+would ever have received the sanction of the girls' parents to marry
+their daughters. Such a picture may have been conceived innocently
+enough, but as a subject that would be shown to thousands of young
+people all over the world it was decidedly deserving of censure. And
+yet some of the very incidents that served to make the picture doubly
+objectionable in the eyes of grown people, especially fathers and
+mothers, might have been the result of the director's unthinkingly
+adding certain scenes that served to portray young men in a bad
+light--incidents which were not even thought of by the author when he
+planned his picture of a youthful escapade. We sympathize with the
+lovers when Dorothy's father refuses to let her marry Jack, to whom
+she is plainly devoted. But when, in another scene, we see Jack
+wasting his time in pool-rooms or lounging in a saloon, we give the
+father credit for being a good judge of character, and not simply a
+harsh and stubborn guardian.
+
+Writers should remember that even though a film is passed by the
+National Board, if it gets into a city in which the local censorship
+board objects to one or two scenes, these scenes will be literally cut
+out for exhibition in that city. Afterwards, they may be put back; but
+if this happens in several communities, the film is likely to be
+shortened by many feet, since in cutting and re-splicing each cut
+means the loss of at least two "frames," or pictures, and even more if
+the operator does not know his business--not to mention the loss of
+the actual scenes cut out. Suppose that two or three of a writer's
+"strong" scenes are cut when his picture is shown--in Detroit, for
+instance--the result on the screen is more likely to become an
+illogical and incoherent jumble than the powerful "drama with a punch"
+he had intended it to be. But "Censorship realizes," says Mr. A.W.
+Thomas, in the _Photoplay Magazine_, "as does every editor and author,
+that morality is to be desired, and to this end, crime or suggestion
+of crime is presented, as a rule, to convey the moral. 'Crime for
+crime's sake' is to be condemned. Sensationalism and forbidden themes
+are seldom seen nowadays."
+
+Aside from murder and suicide, why is it that so many young authors
+imagine that to be strong a story must have at least one violent or
+tragic death-scene? That there are hundreds of gripping stories,
+pictures with the biggest kind of "punch," in which no death or
+suggestion of death is shown, is well-known to every photoplay patron
+whose mind and heart are in good working order. And yet editors are
+every day returning scripts in which a murder, a suicide, a death as
+the result of a duel, or a death arising from disease or accident, is
+shown--all for no other reason than that the writer imagines he is
+thereby producing a strong drama.
+
+
+_3. Depressing Dramas_
+
+Death in a picture is neither undesirable nor out of place--_provided
+it is necessary to the proper and inevitable development of the plot_.
+But the mistaken idea that to snuff out a human life in a thrilling or
+a heart-rending manner, when there is really no logical necessity for
+it, makes a picture either strong or dramatic is responsible for
+scores of unaccepted scripts. Yet it would not be well to try to apply
+to all picture stories Mr. George Cohan's motto, "Always leave them
+laughing," for, as every intelligent exhibitor knows, and as a certain
+producer once said, "they come to weep as well as to laugh." The point
+that seems to have escaped many young writers is this: There is very
+often a more decided, a more convincing, and a far more welcome,
+"punch" in a scene which shows the saving of a human life than there
+is in one which shows a death, even of the most unworthy character in
+the cast. To have your villain nursed back to life by the man whom he
+has so persistently and cruelly persecuted, and then to have him show
+the change of heart that one would expect in him in the circumstances,
+will be far more dramatic and gripping in the eyes of an intelligent
+audience than to have your hero "hurl the black-hearted ruffian to
+his doom" over a cliff a thousand feet high.
+
+There is a distinction, with a very decided difference, between the
+picture that fills the spectators with gloom and the one that simply
+allows them to have what many women would call "a good cry." "It is a
+great thing to be able to lift the spectators out of their seats with
+a big, gripping melodrama," remarks Mr. Sargent, "but it is a far more
+creditable thing to send them home with a tear in their eyes while a
+smile hovers about their lips."
+
+
+_4. The Use of Deadly Weapons_
+
+It is understood, of course, that the use of guns, knives, and other
+weapons is seldom objected to by the censors when they are employed in
+a historical picture, or one that shows pioneer life. The trouble is
+that some young writers, knowing that they are granted more license in
+this direction when doing "Western stuff," make the mistake of abusing
+this liberty. Mr. R.R. Nehls, of the American Film Company, says: "The
+most noticeable fault with manuscripts dealing with Western life is
+the natural inclination to run too much to gun play, stagecoach
+robberies, etc. Please remember that we do not wish to distort
+conditions in the great West--rather we seek to portray it as it
+really exists today."
+
+Mr. Nehls, it will be noticed, says "the great West ... as it really
+exists today." It should be apparent to any writer that in turning out
+stories of the present-day West there is even less excuse for
+promiscuous gun-play than in a story, say, of California in the days
+of the Forty-Niners. But Indian massacres, soldier warfare, Indian and
+cowboy fights, usually come under the head of "historical" subjects
+and are therefore permissible.
+
+
+_5. Plays Offensive to Classes of Patrons_
+
+It seems scarcely possible that any intelligent photoplay writer would
+introduce into one of his stories an incident calculated to offend the
+religious or political faith of any patron, and yet in the past
+different pictures of this kind have been the cause of more than one
+unthinking moving-picture theatre manager's losing some of his best
+patrons. People as a rule have no objection to being preached to in a
+mild and entertaining way when they go to a picture show, but they do
+object to having their feelings hurt. A man who is over-fond of drink
+may sit through a play on the screen in which the evil results of
+intoxication are depicted and come away filled with a determination to
+reform his way of living, but the man who after paying his admission
+is asked to sit through five or more reels of film almost every foot
+of which is a shock to his religious or his political sensibilities
+will come away filled only with the determination to avoid that
+theatre in the future, if not, indeed, to eschew moving-pictures
+entirely.
+
+During 1911 and the early part of 1912 several pictures were released,
+both by European and American manufacturers, which were so objected to
+by Roman Catholic picture-patrons that not only were they suppressed
+but the whole film-manufacturing industry was aroused and put on its
+guard against producing more pictures of this kind. Here is a rule of
+photoplay writing that you must not violate: Do not offend the
+religious beliefs of a _single patron_ if you wish to retain the good
+will of the editors and manufacturers. And have you stopped to think
+how broad that statement really is? Have you taken into consideration
+the many different nationalities, with their widely different creeds
+and religious convictions, which see the pictures daily put upon the
+market? As one critic says: "The photoplay film goes to Europe and
+Australia and South Africa. Some of them even get to China; so you can
+realize that what may seem foolish to you may be sacred to someone
+else, and exhibitors have to be careful."
+
+To say that you must be careful not to write stories that will be
+likely to arouse the ire of certain photoplay patrons because of the
+way a political theme is handled does not mean that you cannot
+introduce political themes at all. If, for instance, you have a
+particularly good suffragist story--one which contains both heart and
+human interest--there is little doubt that it would sell. Several such
+pictures have been shown in the past year or two. Or if you have a
+story in which the leading male character is a Socialist, it may be
+appreciated by many photoplay-goers without giving offense to those
+whose views do not coincide with the hero's. But, to quote the editor
+of _The Coming Nation_, stories are not wanted "where the hero arises
+and makes a soap-box speech on Socialism, converting all by-standers."
+And at all times you must keep in mind that, no matter what political
+theme you exploit in your story, heart-interest must predominate if
+you wish it to sell--another way of saying that unless you are sure
+that you have a very strong and unusual story, it is best to leave out
+politics. That form of journalism which is best known as muck-raking
+is also out of place in the pictures.
+
+Few films, however, outside of the sectarian subjects which were the
+cause of so much disturbance a year or so ago, have given displeasure
+to so many people as those--fortunately, they have not been
+many--which revealed and held up to the public the secret and dark
+sides in the lives of famous men and women of history. "There are some
+things that are sacred," says a writer in _The Moving Picture World_,
+"even from the hand of the most circumspect of picture makers." It is
+a source of regret that even a shadow of reproach should be cast upon
+distinguished men, particularly when the question of blame is
+debatable, as when, for instance, a picture portraying the love affair
+between Sir John Millais, the artist, and Ruskin's wife, was actually
+produced by a well-known company.
+
+No matter what the opportunity to produce what seems to you to be a
+strong or interesting story, never offend against good taste. "Plays
+that antagonize the finer element in an audience," says Mr. Louis
+Reeves Harrison, "had better never be shown at all. There is nothing
+funny in what is cruel, though vulgar brutality in a play may get a
+laugh from a few who have not yet emerged from primitive egoism."
+
+That last sentence should constantly be borne in mind.
+
+A certain film, "Adrift," released back in 1912, showed an incident
+that in real life would have been impossible. The rejected suitor of a
+woman who is afterwards seen on the downward path seeks to relieve his
+lonely existence by the adoption of a child. Because a certain little
+girl in an orphan asylum bears a striking resemblance to the woman he
+has loved and lost, he decides to adopt her. And he does; they are
+seen leaving together, the child being turned over to its new guardian
+in the most off-hand way imaginable. Of course, later, the child,
+having grown to womanhood, falls in love with and marries her
+guardian; but in real life how little chance there would be of a
+foundling institution's giving one of its girl charges over to a young
+bachelor in this informal manner, if, indeed, he were allowed to adopt
+her at all. Of course, it is not always possible to say whether the
+script for such a picture was the work of an outside writer or whether
+it was written by the director himself. But it sometimes happens that
+a picture _is_ produced _because_ it was written by the director
+himself, whereas the same story, sent to the editor by an outside
+writer, would be returned with a warning to avoid similar scenes or
+situations in the future.
+
+The difference between the photoplay and prose fiction, or even the
+regular drama, is illustrated by the so-called problem plays and
+novels. These are acceptable mainly because their themes can be
+explained from every point of view, and treated in a manner that
+renders them less objectionable, when skillful dialogue and discussion
+are used in telling the story, than if they were to be acted in
+pantomime. Besides, to give the same story in motion pictures would
+necessitate the use of more leaders and other inserts than would be
+practicable, even in a feature picture, unless the director were to
+risk offending the public, if not the Censorship Board, by putting on
+scenes that, insufficiently explained, would be far too risque for the
+photoplay stage. Furthermore, when there are so many good, pleasant,
+and interesting themes to choose from, why elaborate what is
+unpleasant or morally objectionable?
+
+
+_6. Themes Unsuitable to the Producing Company_
+
+In the chapter on the limitations of the photoplay stage we have
+already said something about the inadvisability of calling (in your
+scenario) for elaborate snow-and rain-storm effects. But of course it
+is another matter to plan stories with winter or with summer
+backgrounds. Take into consideration that most of the Eastern
+companies, once the winter season is at hand, look for stories that
+may be done mostly in the studios, with interior settings. If the
+company has a branch studio in California or in Florida--facts which
+you can easily learn from the trade publications--they will very
+probably take suitable stories calling for outdoor scenes. As the
+winter season approaches its end you begin to offer scripts that call
+for exterior scenes, though, of course, there are some scenes which
+it would not be possible to do until summer is well advanced.
+
+It is impossible here to lay down any exact rules for submitting to
+any company; you must be guided by your good judgment and your
+acquired knowledge of how the company to which you submit your scripts
+has its field-forces distributed. But in order to make scripts
+acceptable for production by a company that has a field-force working,
+say, in the Adirondacks, it is necessary to get your stories to them
+in good time. Therefore, post yourself concerning the movements of the
+various companies, and when you learn that a certain concern has a
+field-company in the West Indies, send them the best script you have
+or can write, suited to the locality in which they are working. If it
+is accepted, you may be sure that the editor will be very glad to keep
+you informed as to how long they are going to stay. In that way you
+will avoid sending to a company a story with a Jamaican background
+when the field-company has been moved to the Delaware Water Gap
+region.
+
+
+_7. Hackneyed Themes_
+
+Here is a list of subjects no longer wanted by the editors--unless the
+theme is given a decidedly new twist--because they have become
+hackneyed from being done so often. Many such lists have been printed
+in the various motion-picture trade-papers and the different magazines
+for writers. We give the tabooed themes that have so far been listed,
+and others drawn from different sources. A careful study of this list
+may save you from wasting your time writing a story that has already
+been done--perhaps two or three times, in one form or another--in
+every studio.
+
+(1) The brother and sister, orphaned in infancy, parted by adoption
+and reunited in later life. They fall in love, only to discover the
+blood relationship.
+
+(2) The little child stolen by gypsies, and restored to her family in
+later life, generally by means of a favorite song.
+
+(3) The discharged workman who goes to do injury to his former
+employer, but who performs some rescue instead and gets his job back.
+
+(4) The poor man who attends a fashionable dinner. He conceals in his
+clothing delicacies for his sick wife. A ring or other valuable is
+lost. He alone of the party refuses to be searched. The valuable is
+found and his story comes out.
+
+(5) The man who assumes his brother's crime for the sake of the girl
+he loves, and who, he thinks, loves the brother.
+
+(6) The child who reunites parted parents or prevents a separation.
+
+(7) Baby's shoes. Edison, Vitagraph, Universal and other companies
+have worked out all the sentiment attached to them. Bannister Merwin,
+Robert E. Coffey and other authors have reunited separated couples by
+means of baby's shoes. Don't do it any more.
+
+(8) Two suitors for the hand of a girl. They go to one of the parents
+to decide, or she gives them a common task to perform. One wins by
+foul means. He is found out, and she marries the other.
+
+(9) The convict who escapes and robs an innocent man of his clothes,
+thereby causing another to appear temporarily as the jail-bird.
+
+(10) The story of the girl's name and address written on the egg which
+is relegated to cold storage for twenty years, then to be discovered
+by a love-lorn man who seeks out the writer, who by this time has at
+least one unromantic husband and a brood of children.
+
+(11) The pathetic "Mother" play in which Thanksgiving and pumpkin pies
+tug hard at the heart-strings.
+
+(12) The play in which the rich crippled child is contrasted with the
+poor strong child, and in which the two are brought together and
+exchange confidences--and money.
+
+(13) The husband jealous of his wife's brother, whom he has never
+seen.
+
+(14) The burglar who breaks into a house, to be confronted by his own
+child, who has been adopted by the family.
+
+(15) The policeman who calls on the cook and removes his hat and coat,
+which are used by another.
+
+(16) The child who reunites parents and children separated through an
+unapproved marriage.
+
+(17) The child who redeems the criminal or who saves the discouraged
+from the downward plunge.
+
+(18) The employee who gets an interest in the business, and his
+employer's daughter, either with or without opposition from the
+foreman or the junior partner.
+
+(19) The bad small boy.
+
+(20) The sheriff who is rescued by the outlaw and who later allows him
+to escape, or prevents his being lynched.
+
+(21) The revenue officer who falls in love with the moonshiner's
+daughter, and who is forced to choose between love and duty.
+
+(22) The Southern boy who enlists in the Federal army, and is cast out
+by his father for so doing. Or the young Northerner who, acting as a
+Federal spy, falls in love with a Southern girl, the daughter of a
+Confederate officer. There are dozens of variations of the Civil War
+"brother against brother" plot, but all have been done so often that,
+unless you can give such a theme a decidedly new "twist," it is much
+better not to send it out. And note that merely to give the old theme
+a "Great War" setting is _not_ to render it more acceptable.
+
+(23) Stories requiring too much trick photography, and stories based
+upon "love pills," "foolish powders," and other "influences."
+
+"Editors and public tired long ago of the poor boy whose industry at
+last brought him the hand of his employer's daughter; the pale-faced,
+sweet-eyed young thing whose heroism in stamping out a fire enabled
+her to pay off the mortgage; the recovery of the missing will; the
+cruel step-mother; answering a prayer which has been overheard; the
+strange case of mistaken identity; honesty rewarded; a noble revenge;
+a child's influence; and so on to a long-drawn-out end."[26]
+
+[Footnote 26: J. Berg Esenwein, _Writing the Short-Story_.]
+
+In avoiding trite subjects the surest teachers are common sense, a
+wide reading, the constant study of the photoplays seen on the screen,
+a friendly critic, and the printed rejection slip. _And do not forget
+this most important point_: It is not so much the time-worn _theme_
+that makes a story hackneyed as it is the threadbare _development_ of
+the theme. A new "twist," a fresh surprise, coming as the climax to an
+old situation, may redeem its hackneyed character. But when you can
+combine a fresh theme with a new treatment you have reached the apex
+of originality. Time spent in working on unhackneyed lines will save
+you many later heartaches.
+
+
+_8. Inconsistent Situations_
+
+A word or two concerning inconsistencies in film stories. While the
+inconsistencies and absurdities occasionally seen on the screen are
+often traceable to the director alone, the writer must do his share
+toward eliminating what is incorrect or out of place. Take for
+instance the Red Cross in war-pictures. The introduction of the Red
+Cross into American Civil War pictures was something that one of the
+present writers had commented upon and criticized two or three years
+before Mr. Herbert Hoagland, of Pathe Freres American company, wrote
+his helpful little book on the technique of the photoplay[27], but,
+since Mr. Hoagland puts it so comprehensively in that work, what he
+says is quoted here:
+
+"In a Civil War story the scenario called for a field hospital with
+the Red Cross flag flying from a staff. Well, the Red Cross wasn't
+organized until the closing year of the war, and then it was done in
+Switzerland. The Southerners and the Yankees never saw this emblem of
+mercy _during the whole four years of strife."_
+
+[Footnote 27: Herbert Case Hoagland, _How to Write a Photoplay_.]
+
+Following the foregoing paragraph in his book, Mr. Hoagland speaks of
+another script in which an officer in Confederate uniform is informed
+by a courier--in Confederate uniform--that war had been declared
+between the North and the South. "But," the Pathe censor of scripts
+remarks, "there was no gray uniform of the Confederacy before the
+C.S.A. was formed!"
+
+As one critic has remarked, "Screen credit for the author may not
+bring him the credit for which he is looking." In other words, if the
+director bungles a scene or allows some historical or other inaccuracy
+to creep into the picture, the blame may be placed by the unthinking
+spectator on the author--or even, in case of the picture's being an
+adaptation of a novel, on the writer who prepared the continuity, or
+scenario. Thus, while what Mr. Hoagland wrote was written in 1912, the
+Red Cross flag was seen waving bravely in Paralta's "Madame Who?",
+produced in 1918, and we feel sure that neither Mr. Harold MacGrath,
+who wrote the novel, nor Mr. Monte M. Katterjohn, the staff-writer
+who wrote the scenario, was responsible for the error.
+
+So it will be seen that the photoplaywright may easily find himself
+under the fire not only of the professional critic, but also of the
+lay patron and of his brother writers. Do not, therefore, risk
+anything that may, so to speak, make it easier for the director to "go
+wrong." To quote Davy Crockett's motto, "Be sure you're right; then go
+ahead."
+
+As an example of what may happen if you fail to observe this warning,
+consider the Vitagraph release, "A Wasted Sacrifice," referred to in
+the previous chapter.[28] The big "punch" in this story, as already
+pointed out, was where the young squaw steps on the concealed
+rattlesnake. Women in the audience screamed; men felt the proverbial
+"cold chill" run down their spines. Then came the climax, in which the
+young Westerner, hoping to save the life of the papoose, takes it away
+from the dead mother and hurries back to meet the doctor-sheriff who
+is pursuing him with the posse. The doctor tells him that the child is
+dead; his sacrifice--from which the story derives its title--has been
+unnecessary. The poison, drawn from the breast of the stricken woman
+by the nursing child, has killed the baby. A real "punch," indeed! But
+wait. A prominent physician in an Eastern city writes to the producing
+company protesting that it is impossible for a child to draw poison
+into its system in the manner described. And the physician _knows_!
+In other words, what happened in the picture could not happen in real
+life. The backbone of the plot has been broken! Seven in ten people
+might not know the difference; they would never question the
+probability of the scene. The other three in ten _would know_, and,
+seeing your name on the film, would put you down as a first-class
+"nature faker," or else as a very careless and badly informed writer.
+And remember that even though the director may be the one most to
+blame for not taking the trouble to verify the action introduced into
+your story before putting it on, _you_ will be the one blamed by those
+in the studio, and your next story will undoubtedly be looked at
+askance, and probably rejected.
+
+[Footnote 28: See synopsis in Chapter VIII.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+WHAT YOU SHOULD WRITE
+
+
+"With inventiveness and imagination the most commonplace, the
+everyday-life subject, such as the ills and cares we have to bear,
+becomes, by a proper exposition of human nature under those
+conditions, a story both entertaining and instructive. But
+_entertaining_ first, instructive second; to _try_ to be instructive
+is to cease to be entertaining.
+
+"The strength of a story consists in the eloquence, vividness,
+and sincerity with which a given problem in human life or
+character is presented. Human nature is made up of all sorts of
+traits--selfishness, cupidity, self-sacrifice, courage, loyalty. All
+life is made up ... of a compromise between elements in the struggle
+for happiness. These elements make for the story, happiness being the
+chief factor for which humanity is searching."
+
+Though written for short-story writers, these words from an article by
+Mr. Floyd Hamilton Hazard are so true, and so applicable to the
+writing of photoplays, that we reproduce them here.
+
+Substantially similar ideas were advanced by Mr. Daniel Frohman, the
+theatrical impresario, in an interview in the New York _Sun_, and no
+one will doubt the close relationship which exists between the
+general principles of plot-structure as applied to the "legitimate"
+drama and to the photoplay.
+
+We may now see the first big element in all vitally dramatic themes:
+
+
+_1. The Human Appeal_
+
+"Your script," wrote a certain editor in returning a young writer's
+photoplay, "needs to be introduced to the 'H.I.' twins--Heart Interest
+and Human Interest. Those two elements are responsible for the sale of
+more manuscripts than anything else with which the writer has to do."
+
+In choosing a theme for your photoplay, then, constantly bear in mind
+the great truth that, no matter how original, how interesting, or how
+cleverly constructed your plot may be, it will be sadly lacking unless
+it contains a goodly percentage of one or both of these desirable
+qualities. The frequently-quoted formula of Wilkie Collins, "Make 'em
+laugh, make 'em cry, make 'em wait," simply sums up the proper
+procedure when you set out to win the interest and sympathy of the
+spectators. "The greatest aid in selling scripts is the injection of
+the human-interest bits. Every effective bit of business concisely
+told helps the sale because it helps the editor," Mr. Sargent remarks
+in one of his criticisms. "Reach your readers' hearts and brains,"
+says Arthur S. Hoffmann, editor of _Adventure_, in _The Magazine
+Maker_. And then, after citing the dictum of Wilkie Collins, he adds:
+"Make 'em hate, like, sympathize, think. Give them human nature, not
+merely names of characters."
+
+When all is said, you can hope to reach the minds of the masses only
+by first reaching their hearts.
+
+
+_2. Writing for All Classes_
+
+Notwithstanding the great advances in the art of moving-picture
+production during the last few years, and the corresponding
+improvement in the film-stories shown, the great mass of photoplay
+patrons are still, as they always were, of the middle class. Better
+pictures have gradually drawn into the picture theatres a more highly
+educated type of patron, but very few exhibitors would stay in
+business if the middle-class spectators were to discontinue their
+attendance. The average working man can take his little family to the
+picture theatre, say once a week, for fifty cents, whereas it would
+cost him about that sum for one poor seat in a first-class regular
+theatre. Hence the immense popularity of the picture theatre, and
+hence too the necessity for effort on the part of the theatre manager
+to please _all_ his patrons.
+
+First, of course, he must please the majority, but he must by no means
+overlook the tastes of the minority. Every man, as the wise proprietor
+knows, enjoys most what he understands best. The plain people are not
+necessarily the unintelligent ones, for the working man can both
+understand and enjoy pictured versions of Dante's _Inferno_ and
+Sophocles' _Oedipus Rex_, but he will feel more at home while watching
+a picture of contemporary American life; and who shall say, provided
+the photoplay be a good one, that he is not receiving as much profit
+therefrom as from the film version of either of the classics!
+
+The really successful photoplaywright is nothing if not versatile.
+Unless he is content to have a very limited market, he more than any
+other type of professional writer must be able to write for all
+classes.
+
+Furthermore, he must be able to write on a variety of themes. The
+photoplaywright who can produce only Western dramas, or stories
+dealing with slum life, will find his sales averaging very low as
+compared with the author who can construct a society drama, a Western
+story, a photoplay of business life, a story of the Kentucky
+mountains, or still other types. To be able to write photoplays that
+will appeal to every class of photoplay patron is the supreme test of
+the photoplaywright.
+
+These words of a celebrated French novelist and playwright, Ludovic
+Halevy, are worthy of attention:
+
+"We must not write simply for the refined, the blase, and the
+squeamish. We must write for that man who goes there on the street
+with his nose in his newspaper and his umbrella under his arm. We must
+write for that fat, breathless woman whom I see from my window, as she
+climbs painfully into the Odeon omnibus. We must write courageously
+for the _bourgeois_, if it were only to try to refine them, to make
+them less _bourgeois_. And if I dared, I should say that we must write
+even for fools."
+
+
+_3. A High Quality of Imagination Demanded_
+
+Another well-known French dramatist, Marcel Prevost, who is a
+photoplaywright as well, in a recent issue of the Paris _Figaro_
+replied to a question whether motion pictures are harmful to the
+legitimate theatre, by stating that, while he likes the pictures,
+their authors are lacking in imagination.
+
+That there is a great deal of truth in what M. Prevost says seems to
+be proved by the fact that when famous playwrights and best-selling
+authors have supplied photoplay plots to the manufacturers, they have
+been exceptionally well paid. We refer, of course, to stories
+specially written for the photoplay stage, for when a film
+manufacturer produces a story by a well-known fiction writer, which
+originally appeared in novel or in short-story form, the manufacturer
+does business with the author's publishers, unless the author has
+specifically reserved for himself all dramatic rights--a practice
+which, by the way, is becoming more and more general.
+
+[Illustration: Arrangement of Electric Lights in a Photoplay Studio]
+
+[Illustration: An Actor's Dressing Room in the Selig Studio]
+
+An editorial in _Motography_ says: "The best motion picture dramas
+produced today are reproductions of literary classics. These films do
+not achieve immortality; they merely further assure the immortality of
+the original work. Why cannot a photodrama be produced that is fine
+enough to live on its own merit--why must the picture always seem to
+be secondary while literature and the drama continue to furnish the
+primary motives?
+
+"The answer lies in the peculiar requirements of photoplay
+authorship. The writer of printed fiction is a master of _words_. He
+revels in artful phrases and unique constructions. He woos immortality
+not by his plots, but by his clever handling of words--his 'style'."
+And then the editor goes on to say that the photodrama will become
+great when it has developed its own great men. "The photoplay author
+of fame," he says, "must be a specialist."
+
+This also is true; but at the same time he must, as in any other
+profession, first of all be a student. He must serve his
+apprenticeship; and while he _is_ serving his apprenticeship he must
+cultivate the imagination which M. Prevost declares to be so
+essential.
+
+Imagination cannot be developed by remaining in a rut. Experience is
+not only the best teacher, but the very finest developer of thought,
+and of a vivid and facile imagination. Thus constant practice causes
+the building of plots to become a sort of second nature.
+
+Granting that you have the technical skill to develop the plots you
+evolve, the question which you have to answer is: What are the most
+suitable themes for photoplays?
+
+No one can give you such a list, though he may do what has been
+attempted in another chapter--furnish a moderately full list of what
+_not_ to choose as themes. Some general positive principles, however,
+are important, and these are now to be considered.
+
+
+_4. Write of What You Know_
+
+The fact that the market is wide makes it the less excusable when a
+writer courts rejection by attempting themes with which he is not
+familiar. If you live on an Eastern or Middle-West farm, or in a small
+town, remember that--especially between the months of May and
+September--the film companies almost without exception are looking for
+good stories of country life. Then why try to write stories of
+business life in a large city, of society, of theatrical or circus
+life, or even of the far West, until you have succeeded with a few
+stories that might easily be set within a short distance of where you
+live? Correct and faithful local color, at times, has much to do with
+selling a story, though you always need a good idea and a clever plot.
+
+The same rule, naturally, should be followed by the young writer whose
+home is in a large city. If you can turn out a good, original story
+truthfully portraying New York's East Side, Broadway, or Wall Street;
+Chicago's "Loop" district; the social and political life of
+Washington, or any other such background, there is an editor waiting
+to purchase that story.
+
+All this is _not_ to say that you must write only of things which are,
+or have been, within the range of your personal experience. Many a
+writer has successfully built his story on well-verified second-hand
+knowledge. If you are not familiar with the subject at first-hand, and
+cannot get direct, personal information, get the knowledge from books
+and periodicals, _but get it exactly--squeeze the last drop of
+information_ from the subject. If there is no library in your town,
+search your own as well as borrowed books and magazines until you find
+at least enough correct data to enable you to turn out a script that
+will not betray second-hand knowledge. Jules Verne had only indirect
+knowledge of most of the countries which he depicted, yet to read his
+books one would believe that he had travelled everywhere. Because he
+had read up on and investigated his subjects he was able to produce
+such thoroughly convincing, and always interesting, books as "A Tour
+of the World in Eighty Days," "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea,"
+and "The Clipper of the Clouds," in which he wrote, and apparently
+authoritatively, of almost every country on the globe.
+
+Until your work is pretty well known by the editors, it is just as
+well not to attempt to write historical dramas. But if you do write
+them, the greatest care must be taken to adhere closely to facts,
+especially in composing scripts in which famous historical personages
+figure. Three or four years ago a certain company that made a
+specialty of two- and three-part historical, Western, and military
+dramas, was called to account by an army officer in Washington for
+having brought out a photoplay of pioneer life which held up a
+well-known officer of the United States army in a rather bad light by
+making him responsible for an act of great injustice to a famous
+Indian chieftain. The author of the photoplay--whether a staff-writer
+or a free lance--was doubtless unaware that he was doing an injustice
+to the memory of a gallant and kind-hearted American soldier; but,
+however the picture came to be written, it elicited the strong
+disapproval of someone _who knew_, and who did not hesitate to tell
+the makers that a mistake had been made.
+
+Manufacturers have to be careful; they cannot afford to offend anyone.
+Moreover, the motion picture has come to be looked upon as a great
+educational factor, and no picture can be truly educational that is
+not strictly accurate. If you want to write historical photoplays
+after you have become known to the editors, very well; but be sure
+that you adhere closely to historical facts. It is far better to spend
+a week in the reference room of the public library than to have to
+suffer a rebuke from a manufacturer, even though the director be also
+to blame for not being familiar with the subject before attempting to
+make the picture. And the loss of your prestige may prove harder to
+bear than the rebuke.
+
+
+_5. Write on What Interests You_
+
+Next in importance to writing on a subject with which you are familiar
+is to write about that with which you are in sympathy. You cannot
+interest your audience unless you yourself are interested in your
+theme when the story is written. If you would arouse fire in your
+spectators you must first feel fire within you. To write a story
+merely because it is timely is not to do yourself justice. Suppose,
+for instance, it is about time for a new president to go into office.
+It may occur to you that to send in a script bearing upon that timely
+subject will be a sure way of "coaxing a check from the editor." You
+have some slight knowledge of politics and of Washington life, but
+you are not particularly interested in either. You are, however,
+anxious to sell a script, so you read up on the subject and work up a
+photoplay. The chances are that you will continue to own the script,
+for you did not put the snap into it that you would have done had you
+been both familiar with your theme and genuinely interested in it.
+
+
+_6. Write on Unusual Themes_
+
+Many a writer is deterred from developing an unusual theme for fear
+that no company will be found to produce it. Enough has been said on
+this subject to warn the photoplaywright against writing impracticable
+scenes. But with this limitation in view every effort should be made
+to strike into untravelled fields. In a day when most of the big
+manufacturers have two or three, or even more, field-companies
+operating in different parts of the country, when almost every maker
+of films has an Eastern and a Western organization, and when several
+companies have a "globetrotting" troupe working in some distant part
+of the world, there is very little chance of a thoroughly good and
+desirable photoplay plot's failing to find acceptance, provided it is
+intelligently marketed. No matter where you may live, no matter what
+you may write of, if it is good it will sell--_some_ editor is waiting
+for it. But you must find that editor.
+
+
+_7. Write Stories Requiring Only Action_
+
+In selecting your theme, ask yourself if either dialogue or
+description may not be really required to bring out the theme
+satisfactorily. If such is the case, abandon the theme. The
+comparatively few inserts permitted cannot be relied upon to give much
+aid--the chief reliance _must_ be pantomime.
+
+For this reason it is inadvisable to write detective stories, unless
+you have a plot that can be easily and convincingly told in action.
+The average fictional story of this class depends more upon dialogue
+and the author's explanation of the sleuth's methods of deduction than
+upon rapid and gripping action. In a fictional detective story, the
+crime usually has happened before the story opens. In a film story,
+this would be impracticable, unless a long explanatory insert were
+introduced either before or after the first scene or two. But long
+inserts are not wanted, even in multiple-reel stories. Since events in
+a photoplay must appear in chronological order, you cannot depict
+murder without showing the murderer in the act, and that will soon
+bring you counter to the censors.
+
+Aside from the consideration of the censorship is this point: in a
+fictional detective story the real murderer is not revealed, in most
+cases, until the last chapter. In the photoplay, on the other hand, it
+would be necessary to show the spectator almost at the first who the
+real murderer is--the other characters in the picture, and not the
+spectators, being the ones in doubt as the story progressed.
+
+This is a difficult condition to bring about effectively. Still, it
+can be done, and there is a chance for a writer who can produce
+logical and interesting detective scripts, as there is always a
+market for any uncommon theme that is both original and handled with
+technical correctness.
+
+An author who is anonymous has said "While the story may have for a
+plot a subject involving complication, or mystery, each scene must be
+easily understood, or the audience, taxed by trying to fathom motives
+or emotions with which it is unfamiliar, or with which it is not in
+sympathy, loses the thread of the story, and consequently pronounces
+the photoplay lacking in interest. Remembering the brevity of the film
+drama, compactness and simplicity in every feature are to be desired.
+It does not require a great cast of characters nor unusually
+spectacular scenic work to produce the big idea. The depths of human
+woe and suffering, or the very heights of joy and attainment, can be
+pictured in a flash. The dramatic story should consist of a strong and
+preferably unique plot, simple and direct in its appeal to the heart,
+and expressed or conveyed to the audience by a logical sequence of
+episodes or incidents, all having direct bearing on the story, and
+each one of sufficient strength to hold the attention of the
+spectators. The story must be human, the characters and their motives
+and actions human and true to life. _The drama is perfect as it
+reflects a correct imitation of nature._"
+
+
+_8. Write Mainly of Characters That Arouse the Spectator's Sympathy_
+
+Each hero must have his opposite, as each great cause must have its
+protagonist and antagonist. Indeed, as we have seen, it is this
+warfare that makes all drama possible. But it will not do to glorify
+the doer of evil deeds and thus corrupt the sympathies of the
+spectators. The hero and not the "villain" must swing the sympathies
+of those who see. Be certain, therefore, that pity for, and even
+sympathy with, a wrong-doer is not magnified, through the action of
+your play, into admiration by the onlookers, for in the photoplay as
+in the legitimate drama the leading character may be a great offender.
+This way danger lies, however, and you must walk with extreme caution,
+or the censors "will catch you--if you don't watch out!"--to say
+nothing of the lashings of your own conscience.
+
+Without repeating what was said in Chapter XVI regarding the
+introduction of crime into film stories, we would impress upon the
+photoplaywright the necessity for always having a fully sufficient,
+though not necessarily a morally justifiable, motive for any crime
+that is introduced in a story; besides, the introduction of a crime
+must be necessary to the action and not a mere spectacular scene. But
+remember that it is not sufficient to avoid "crime without motive;"
+the motive must be one which will, after the crime has been committed,
+leave no doubt in the mind of the spectator that the crime was
+virtually inevitable, if not absolutely unavoidable. If it is the hero
+of the story who commits the crime, the very greatest care must be
+taken to show that he had a really powerful motive for his act, if he
+is to have the sympathy--though not the approval--of the audience
+after yielding to temptation.[29] This, of course, does not refer to
+deeds of violence which are really not only excusable but actually
+right, in the circumstances--like the killing of an attacking
+desperado in self-defense.
+
+[Footnote 29: To make this basic motive clear, natural and unforced is
+what we call good motivation in fiction and drama.]
+
+As an example of the point we are trying to emphasize, take a story
+like "The Bells," the play in which Sir Henry Irving appeared so
+often. Mathias the innkeeper, who later became the Burgomaster, was a
+character, who, by reason of Irving's superb art, won and held the
+sympathies of the audience from the start. Yet after Mathias had
+murdered the Polish Jew and robbed him of his belt of gold, even the
+art of Irving could not have made us sympathize with the character had
+we not been shown that Mathias was urged on to his crime--a crime for
+which he was constantly tortured ever afterward, and which occasioned
+his tragic death--by two very compelling motives. His primary motive
+was the urgent need of money. But he had a two-fold need of money: he
+had been notified by the landlord that he must pay his over-due rent
+or be turned out of his home; and he had been told by the doctor that
+unless he could immediately remove his sick wife to a milder climate
+she would certainly die. Thus, impelled by the thought that only by
+the speedy acquisition of sufficient money could he hope to save the
+life of his wife, he commits the deed which he would never have
+committed had his only motive been the necessity for raising money to
+pay the rent. Mathias was esteemed by his neighbors as an honest man;
+he was a man whose conscience smote him terribly when he was
+contemplating the murder of the Jew; and after the crime had been
+committed--fifteen years later, in fact--that same guilty conscience,
+wracking his very soul, drove him on to his death.
+
+Shakespeare's Macbeth is a character with whom we are forced to
+sympathize measurably, because we know that he is not naturally a
+criminal. Yet, after all, Macbeth is a man who--as Professor Pierce
+has pointed out--"has been restrained in the straight path of an
+upright life [only] by his respect for conventions." Mathias, on the
+other hand, is not held in check by conventions; he is _essentially_
+an honest man. He commits a crime, but what stronger motive could a
+man have than the one that drove him on to its commission? And
+yet--and this is the mistake that we wish to point out to the young
+writer--seven years ago a certain company released "The Bells" as a
+two-part subject, in which, according to the synopsis published in the
+trade journals, Mathias's only motive for committing the most
+detestable of all crimes was that he was behind in his rent! Even the
+magazine that gave in fiction form the story of the picture failed to
+mention what is brought out so strongly in the play--the innkeeper's
+distress at the thought that his wife's life depended upon his being
+able to raise the money to send her to the south of France without
+delay. The author _mentioned_ that Mathias had a sick wife, but that
+was all. The whole treatment of the story in fiction form, moreover,
+was farcical, such names as "Mr. Parker" being intermingled with those
+of the well-known characters, "Mathias," "Christian," and "Annette,"
+while the wealthy, dignified Polish Jew was turned into a typical
+East-side clothing merchant. The real fault lay with the producer who,
+ignoring the great and pressing necessity that prompted Mathias's
+crime, garbled the original plot to the extent of allowing the
+innkeeper to murder the Jew because (according to the fiction-version
+in the magazine) he needed one hundred and seventy-five dollars to pay
+the rent! First, last, and all the time you must remember that your
+story _is not_ a good story if the leading character is not, at all
+times, deserving of the spectator's sympathy, even when his action is
+not worthy of approval.
+
+It is a matter for real regret to have to be compelled to state that,
+in spite of the many artistic advances made in motion-picture
+production during the past six or seven years, this most important
+point was deliberately overlooked when the Pathe Company made its very
+fine feature-production of "The Bells" in the Fall of 1918. We say
+"deliberately overlooked" because the writer who prepared the scenario
+for this modern five-reel version had the same opportunity as had the
+scenarioist who made the other adaptation, years ago, to read the
+original stage-play and to introduce this most compelling motive for
+Mathias's crime. If anything, the fault is more glaring in the Pathe
+production than in the older picture, for the wife is shown as a woman
+in apparently perfect health, although naturally worried by the fact
+that her husband's inability to raise the required amount of money may
+result in their losing both their home and their means of livelihood.
+All the fine acting of Mr. Frank Keenan as Mathias, and all the
+wonderful scenic and lighting effects, were not sufficient to make us
+lose sight of the fact that the ones responsible for the picture's
+production had not given proper thought to the necessity for showing
+that the innkeeper had an unusually compelling motive for taking the
+life of and then robbing his guest. And, make no mistake, no matter
+how fine the production may be in other respects, this sort of thing
+is not overlooked by the intelligent, right-minded spectator of the
+photoplay.
+
+
+_9. The Theme and the Market_
+
+With regard to what are known as "costume plays"--and what we say is
+intended to apply to original stories, since it is never wise to
+attempt an adaptation of a popular book or play, even though you are
+armed with the right to do so, unless you have previously taken the
+matter up with some producing company--there is, perhaps, as was
+pointed out in Chapter XV, twice as much chance to sell such stories
+as there was a few years ago, since today every company is doing
+things in a much bigger way than in former years. But this must not be
+construed as meaning that the different companies are simply looking
+about for new ways to spend money. On the contrary, economy--sensible
+economy--is becoming more and more the keynote of film production. In
+every department, unnecessary expense is done away with. This applies
+to both the purchasing and the producing of photoplays. Better prices
+are being paid, yes; but stories calling for what appears to be
+unnecessarily expensive settings or costuming are usually rejected.
+That is why you may rest assured that no costume plays will sell
+unless they have a strong and unusual story back of them. Again, by
+"costume" plays we mean stories ranging all the way from Bible times
+down to American Civil War times. What is regarded by the editor as a
+costume play, also, may not be wholly that; it may be a story in which
+only a few of the scenes are laid in a past age, as when, in the
+Paramount production of "The Devil Stone," the heroine, in a series of
+"visions," sees herself as the wicked Norse queen of centuries before,
+and learns how the fatal emerald first came into her possession.
+
+There is absolutely no way of knowing what company will be most likely
+to buy a so-called costume play. If you honestly believe that you have
+the material for an unusual story calling for settings or costumes of
+other days--or even of our own day but of foreign lands--go ahead and
+write a comprehensive synopsis of it. If you send it to a company
+which asks for synopses only, you will be playing safe whether it
+interests them or not. If, on the other hand, you plan to submit it to
+a concern which likes to pass on a full script, with both synopsis and
+scenario, you can send in the synopsis alone and explain that if they
+are at all interested in _that_, you will submit the continuity of
+action.
+
+As might be expected, stories of this kind are usually written in the
+studio, because the staff-writer has the opportunity of finding out
+just when and where the picture can be made, what types of male and
+female players will be able to take part in it, and what special
+effects he may include. Still, to repeat, many of the bars against
+costume plays and stories calling for foreign and other hard-to-get
+settings have been taken down in the last year or two; but the demand
+for only strong, interesting stories is more insistent than ever, and
+you must still observe the rule--which, it may be added, will never
+change--of acquiring a thorough knowledge of the different markets if
+you wish to sell your stuff regularly and to the best advantage.
+
+Themes! They are everywhere. The pathetic, the tragic, the
+humorous--countless admirable photoplays are to be drawn from these
+sources. And the most encouraging thought is this: Given the same
+basic idea for a plot, no two people will work it out in exactly the
+same way. Individuality will make a difference. "Happiness," as Mr.
+Floyd Hamilton Hazard has said, "does not always mean the same thing
+to everybody. It means many different things to different people. It
+is a theme upon which many varied tunes can be played."
+
+In conclusion, we quote and warmly endorse this advice from Mr.
+Herbert Hoagland, censor of photoplays for Pathe Freres.
+
+"Select for your theme an idea which embodies _good_ things. Avoid
+anything coarse or suggestive. Make your stories clean, wholesome,
+happy--a dainty love story, a romantic adventure, a deed
+gloriously accomplished, a lesson well learned, an act of charity
+repaid--anything of a dramatic nature which is as honest as daylight.
+Good deeds are just as dramatic as wicked deeds, and clean comedy is
+far and away more humorous than coarseness. Keep away from scenes of
+brutality, degeneracy, idiocy or anything which may bring a poignant
+pang of sorrow to some one of the millions of people who will see your
+story in the pictures, unless the pang will be one of remorse for a
+bad deed done or a good deed left undone. In a word, help the
+film-makers produce films which will help those who see them, and make
+the whole world a little better for your work."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE TREATMENT OF COMEDY
+
+
+Let it be remembered that the lines of division between the several
+sorts of comedy are not sharply defined, for one often overlaps the
+other; nor is a rigid adherence to type insisted upon by either
+playwright or public--for example, on the regular stage we have
+farce-comedy, and other hybrids.
+
+
+_1. Types of Humorous Plays Distinguished_
+
+_Comedy_, strictly, is a lighter, more refined, type of humor than
+farce. It deals with those amusing situations which do, or may, happen
+every day, without the introduction of the extravagant and the
+unnatural. True comedy is distinctly probable. Its humor is the humor
+of reality, however laughable it may be. It may press humor to an
+extreme, but that extreme must never strain our credulity.
+
+_Farce_ is essentially extreme. It deals with the absurd, the
+ridiculous, not with the physically impossible. Though not in itself
+probable, all its actions proceed just as though the basis on which it
+is worked out were probable.
+
+To illustrate both types, we may recall an extremely humorous comedy
+situation which was worked out by Miss May Irwin some years ago in
+"The Swell Miss Fitzwell." One of the characters had conspired with a
+physician to deceive the former's wife by pretending to break his leg.
+As a matter of fact he tumbles down stairs with an awful clatter and
+the leg is actually broken. The doctor comes in, according to the
+scheme, and, not knowing that the leg is broken, begins to twist it
+with fine professional vigor. The victim howls and protests that he is
+in agony, but the doctor merely whispers in a cheerful aside, "Keep it
+up, you are playing your part beautifully!" And so the play goes on.
+
+All this might easily have happened in real life, and the audience is
+tickled--not to see a man apparently suffer, but at the humor of the
+biter being bit. The very incongruity is the foundation of the
+humor--incongruity, mingled with surprise.
+
+But farce would not be content with twisting the leg, it would go to
+any absurd extreme imaginable. Suppose, for example, that the doctor's
+twisting of the victim's leg should so enrage him that he would leap
+upon the doctor and bite the torturer's leg in the manner of a dog.
+The wife, coming in, might think that her husband had hydrophobia, and
+a whole train of farcical results might follow. We have all seen
+unnatural yet uproariously funny situations to which such a
+complication might lead in farce.
+
+_Burlesque_ takes a well-known and often a serious subject and hits
+off its salient points in an uproarious manner. One might burlesque
+"Hamlet" by causing a red-nosed Prince of Denmark to do a juggling
+act with "poor Yorick's" skull.
+
+_Extravaganza_ deals with the unnatural and the impossible. The
+super-human antics of the acrobatic buffoons in Hanlon's perennial
+"Superba," and those of the Byrne Brothers in "Eight Bells," are
+familiar examples.
+
+
+_2. Comedy a Difficult Art_
+
+A writer in one of the photoplay journals, advising writers who are
+struggling to succeed, concludes by admonishing them either to avoid
+stories which because of prohibited themes are likely to make them
+unpopular with editors, or else to "try comedies."
+
+It may be that this writer is one of those who have never tried to
+write comedy scripts, or possibly he is one of the favored few who
+have a special talent for humor. Whichever may be the case,
+notwithstanding this well-meant advice, the truth is that the
+thoroughly effective comedy script is the hardest of all to produce,
+and this is proved by the fact that, no matter how many manufacturers
+announce that they "will not be able to use any more Western, slum
+life, or war stories for some time to come," they _never_ declare that
+they are "over-stocked with good comedy scripts." There is _always_ a
+market for a fine, clean comedy.
+
+
+_3. Comedy Requires a "Full" Treatment_
+
+But superior comedy scripts, we insist, are hard to write. One of the
+less obvious reasons is that there are generally about twice as many
+scenes in a comedy script as in any kind of dramatic story. This does
+not mean, of course, that the comedy script is hard to write merely
+because it takes longer to write it. The labor expended on its
+mechanical preparation is trivial compared to the brain-work necessary
+to the building of a story which, while having almost double the usual
+number of scenes, must still display lively action, logical sequence,
+and convincing (which in the case of comedy means probable) situations
+from beginning to end.
+
+Especially in comedy must each scene tell; hence there can be no
+excuse for "writing in" a number of scenes which have no dramatic
+value whatever, for that is palpable padding. True, you may have seen
+many comedy subjects in which one or two fairly good ideas were
+stretched out until you could almost picture the director kneeling in
+front of the camera, stop-watch in hand and megaphone at lips, wearily
+pleading: "Ginger up! Work fast! It will soon be over." Unfortunately,
+there have been many such "funny" plays, and there will be more, for
+the right kind of comedy is not to be had for the asking. The number
+of scenes in a comedy photoplay arises from the necessity that the
+action be brisk, scene follow scene rapidly, and the whole be played
+from a full third to a half faster than is the case in a dramatic
+subject.
+
+To say that comedy requires a fuller script-treatment than is needed
+for a dramatic subject does not mean that in writing comedy scripts
+you should write in line after line of action that would only be
+useful to give the director a few details which he could very well
+think of himself. No matter what part of the script you are writing,
+be constantly on the alert to avoid including non-essential details.
+Take pains, of course, to show the director just what bit of by-play
+it is that is responsible for a certain situation that will "get a
+laugh," but do not be verbose, and do not go into tiresome details.
+"It is a very easy matter, for a writer fired with enthusiasm, to
+overwrite."
+
+
+_4. Length of Comedy Photoplays_
+
+Seemingly, the day of the split-reel comedy is past. A few years ago,
+when one thousand feet was considered the proper length for the
+average dramatic subject, a full-reel comedy was the exception. They
+ran from four hundred to six hundred feet, the remainder of the reel
+being taken up with a scenic or other educational subject. Thus we had
+what came to be known as "split reels," as we have previously
+explained. Today, even the slap-stick comedies are produced in not
+less than one full reel, and they usually run to two reels. On the
+other hand, there are one or two comedy-producing companies which
+adhere to the single-reel length for their light comedies of domestic
+life.
+
+Far more than in writing dramatic scripts, you must be guided in
+deciding the length of your comedy photoplay by the company to which
+you are submitting. This entails taking a chance as to whether you
+sell at all or not, in the event of your story's not being suitable
+for the market at which you have aimed it. For example, those writers
+who have both sold to and had scripts rejected by the editor who looks
+after the wants of such a comedy team as Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Drew know
+that if a script does come back from them it is seldom "placable"
+anywhere else. For markets such as this, the fact that a synopsis only
+is usually called for is a real benefit to the writer, saving him much
+time and disappointment in the event of non-acceptance.
+
+Another thing that experienced writers know is that certain of the
+larger producers of slap-stick comedy are not in the market for
+outside material. After being deluged with all kinds of "comedy"
+stories for years, the Keystone Company finally found it necessary to
+announce that nothing could be considered from free-lance writers, on
+account of the peculiar nature of the comedies produced by them and
+the necessity of having them written by inside writers who were
+familiar with the studio, its players, and the surrounding possible
+locations.
+
+Thus, in its way, the market for comedy scripts or synopses is more or
+less limited, and yet there is, as has been said, a good demand for
+first-class humorous stories for the screen. One important rule to
+keep in mind is that they should be, in every case, just as long as,
+_but no longer than_, the idea that is back of them. You must never
+pad a comedy plot, or even a comedy idea; to do so is fatal to the
+attainment of artistically perfect results, if not to its acceptance
+by the editor.
+
+In writing dramatic stories, on the other hand, more freedom is
+allowed. To be sure, here padding is bad also, but in a dramatic
+subject the central idea is almost always big enough to justify one of
+the several lengths to which screen dramas now run; but, largely
+because comedy action is played so much faster than dramatic action,
+you must firmly refuse to allow yourself to expand a humorous story by
+even so little as a single scene beyond its logical and natural end.
+
+Comedy ideas, perhaps more than any others, should be carefully
+classified, and in classifying you should try to determine, from the
+very first, the length to which that particular story ought to run.
+Having once arrived at your decision, keep to it. It is
+quality--clever situations and funny action--and not quantity that
+counts in the writing of humorous photoplays. Most of the good comedy
+themes have been worked over so often, either by the authors
+themselves or by the director, that it requires considerable skill to
+give them that much-desired new twist[30] that is necessary to make
+them acceptable. In the writing of dramatic photoplays, a word or two
+will often suggest the necessary "business" of a certain character,
+but in comedy it is especially important that every action, every bit
+of by-play, should be made to count; and for that reason it is
+necessary to give each scene a much fuller treatment in the script
+than would be necessary in describing dramatic action.
+
+[Footnote 30: Treated in Chapter XIX.]
+
+
+_5. Classes of Photoplay Comedy and Their Requirements_
+
+While the written-and-spoken drama recognizes not only the four major
+types of humorous plays already referred to, but several sub-types in
+addition, there are only three general classes under which humorous
+photoplays are usually grouped: (a) Comedy-Drama, (b) Light-Comedy and
+(c) Farce.
+
+Of the comedies, two kinds are in almost constant demand--the comedy
+of society life, and the comedy of everyday life, with special
+emphasis upon domestic scenes. In treatment, these two kinds may be
+cast in any of the three foregoing forms, but usually they will adhere
+to the principle of comedy, even when they may verge on farce, or take
+on certain aspects of the more intense dramatic tone.
+
+When writing photoplay comedies, remember always that comedy of
+_action_ is more important than comedy of _idea_. That is, it is not
+enough that you work up to a funny climax, but the action leading up
+to the climax must be funny as well. A humorous idea underlying your
+comedy is good, but unless this idea is constantly worked out through
+humorous action, the effect is largely lost by its being too subdued.
+In fact, the photo-comedy _cannot_ be purely the comedy of idea. On
+the regular stage, most light-comedies succeed by reason of the bright
+and humorous dialogue which the author puts into the mouths of the
+players. Funny "business," and the by-play of the players, help, of
+course, but the humorous lines of the piece are depended upon to make
+it a success.
+
+It is just the opposite in photoplay; dialogue (unless cut-in leaders,
+taking the form of a speech made by one of the characters, may be
+called "dialogue") is entirely absent, and humorous action and funny
+situations must take its place.
+
+The requirements of a comedy script are very definitely covered by Mr.
+Sargent in the following, taken from his department in _The Moving
+Picture World_:
+
+"In photoplay ... the majority of the scenes must each have its own
+comedy action while the narrative is advanced, and it is here that the
+average writer of comedy falls short. If a scene is not naturally
+funny, put some humor into it. Do not force the comedy action, but
+invent something that is germane to the plot and natural to the
+situation. If you can do this you can write comedy, but until you can
+get a laugh in every scene you are not writing comedy, no matter how
+funny the central idea may be. As a rule the central idea furnishes
+the comedy for only one scene; not for the entire play. In comedy you
+must play faster, work harder, and strive constantly for the natural,
+unforced laughs. And remember that the editors go to vaudeville shows,
+the same as you do. They know the old sketches and the whiskered
+jokes. If they wanted them they would write them themselves."
+
+The success of a comedy composition lies fundamentally in the novelty
+of its plot, or in some new and interesting phase of an old situation;
+it prospers in proportion to its interest-holding qualities, its
+natural logic, its probability, and the constant humor of the
+individual scenes and situations. There is a wide difference between
+comedy and comic pictures, and the difference lies chiefly in that
+comedy depends largely for its humor on the cleverness displayed in
+the construction of the plot, whereas the comic picture is usually
+merely a series of funny situations arising from one basic situation,
+but having little or no plot. In the "comic," the scenes are loosely
+connected, while the humor of the picture depends upon the uproarious
+fun in each scene. These comic pictures, usually of the slap-stick
+variety, would naturally be classed as farces; but even in photoplay
+it is possible to produce a better and more natural brand of farce
+than that which depends for its humor upon the silly antics of
+different characters in a series of loosely connected scenes, which
+have no logical or consistent plot.
+
+There is steady demand for the unusual and genuinely humorous light
+comedy--by which is meant the kind of photo-comedies that approximate
+the legitimate plays usually employed as vehicles by Mr. John Drew and
+Mr. Cyril Maude. They may treat of society, of business life, or of
+life in the home, but on account of the light, airy, and subtly
+humorous way in which the situations are developed they take far
+higher artistic rank than may be accorded to farce. There is also a
+good demand for comedy-dramas in which there is a strict regard for
+dramatic values in handling the different scenes, and in following out
+the plot, which has its serious elements, but in which the
+comedy-element remains comedy from first to last.
+
+The domestic comedies produced by Metro, featuring Mr. and Mrs. Sidney
+Drew, of which we have already spoken, are so well known, and these
+artists are so universally popular, that a word or two from Mr. Drew
+on the subject of screen comedy should be interesting and instructive:
+
+"Comedy is and always will be an amusing story humorously told," says
+Mr. Drew. "If it _is_ a good story, well told, then it is a comedy,
+but if it has no story or cannot be told humorously, then no amount of
+bolstering will ever make it into a comedy. You may add a lot of
+knockabout and perhaps get an acceptable farce, or you can write in
+sensation and get travesty, but you cannot by these means change the
+unfit into comedy, and the broad use of 'comedy' to apply to anything
+intended to be diverting is a misuse of an ancient and honorable
+word.... To my way of thinking comedy is first of all a good story. It
+is a story and not merely an incident or a collection of incidents.
+There must be a plot to obtain and hold the interest. This plot does
+not necessarily require profound depths, but there must be a distinct
+and clearly defined objective upon which the interest may be centred,
+and the interest must arise from mental processes and not from mere
+mechanical appeal.... Humorous action does not mean gross horseplay.
+The action itself may not always be marked to be amusing. To take a
+crude illustration, suppose that a character in the story is about to
+thrash his ancient enemy. He feels so certain of victory that he
+bribes the policeman on the beat not to interfere. Now he goes to the
+field of battle and unexpectedly gets the worst of it. He is the first
+to call for the police, and the scene flashes between the suborned
+officer placidly smiling at the sounds of the affray and never
+dreaming that it is his patron who is calling for aid. There is
+nothing humorous in the spectacle of a policeman on a street corner.
+In a comedy of incident he would have to suffer indignity to get a
+laugh. In the comedy with a plot, the plot makes the action humorous.
+We are not, in reality, laughing at the policeman. He is merely the
+symbol of the idea. We are laughing at the predicament into which our
+hero has thrust himself. It is this thought, and not the sight of the
+policeman, at which we laugh. The policeman merely stands for the
+thought, yet it is humorous action within my meaning of the term in
+that the policeman represents the thought.
+
+"In our own comedies Mrs. Drew and I seek to appeal to the mind as
+well as to the eye, but to appeal to the mind _through_ the eye. We
+value the advantage of brightly-written sub-titles, but believe that
+these should supplement and not replace the comedy in the action. The
+clever leader may either prepare for the comedy-situation or may
+follow and intensify it, but it is always an accessory and not the
+chief aim. It is absurd to talk of the leader as an intrusion to be
+avoided. It should be avoided only when it really is an intrusion. The
+cleverness of an author displays itself in the expertness with which
+he handles leaders rather than in his skill in avoiding them."[31]
+
+[Footnote 31: Sidney Drew, "Comedy Picture Production," in _The Moving
+Picture World_.]
+
+
+_6. General Advice_
+
+It is most important that, having started to write a farce, for
+instance, you _keep it a farce_ throughout. One fault of many amateur
+scripts is that they show a tendency to be a little of everything. A
+strong emotional drama may--even should--have its "comedy relief," but
+it is a very unwise thing to introduce a note of tragedy into a farce
+or even into a straight comedy composition.
+
+At this point it will not be out of place to say a few words in
+connection with this matter of "comedy relief," of which we have just
+spoken, as used in writing _dramatic_ stories. The over-use of comedy
+relief, so called, is mostly due to misguided directors who have seen
+the success attending its introduction by prominent directors who
+really understood how and when to use it. A departmental writer in the
+_Motion Picture News_, speaking of the small army of directors "who
+worked with Griffith," says:
+
+"Probably the most obvious of all the blunders made by the men who
+seek to emulate the wonderful work of Griffith is their introduction
+of comedy, chiefly through the medium of domestic animals, when they
+are forced to stop the action of their story to do so. Griffith's
+comedy is always spontaneous, incidental--it seems to have been
+inspired at the moment and runs in as part of the main action. The
+comedy of the men 'who worked with Griffith,' while perhaps inspired
+at the moment, rises not from the situations of the story but from the
+contemplative mind of the director himself. This is the general rule,
+at any rate. There are exceptions, of course, and notable ones, too,
+but that all-powerful _motif_ of 'comedy relief' often gets the better
+of the director's judgment and results in a product that is so
+unbalanced that much of the illusion is destroyed. In fact, comedy
+relief is a difficult element to gain. It should always be purely
+incidental, unforced, arising from some major situation, and so
+creating the desired contrast. When it is obviously sought after and
+introduced without regard for its suitability it is not comedy relief
+but comedy-out-of-place."
+
+Since this, like the over-use of the close-up, is something for which
+directors are largely responsible, it is the photoplaywright's duty to
+help by being very careful about how he himself writes in comedy
+intended to "light up" tense, serious, dramatic action.
+
+No matter what class of humorous photoplay you may be writing, you
+must keep in mind what we enlarged upon in Chapter XVI: Nothing is
+funny that offends against good taste, or that, in any way, causes
+pain to any number of the spectators. Comedy, to be worthy of
+appreciation, must always be good-natured. National types as
+caricatured by many comedians with the aid of eccentric costumes and
+weird make-ups are usually as far from being real national types as
+one could well imagine. Humor must have more than mere extravagance or
+caricature for its basis. Even in farce and in musical comedy, as well
+as in vaudeville, the once familiar green-whiskered Irishman, the
+Frenchman who is all shrugging shoulders and absurd gestures, the
+negro who walks as if he were trying to take two steps backward for
+every one forward, and whose most noticeable facial feature is an
+enormous mouth, and the "Busy Izzy" type of Jew, who when not getting
+robbed himself, or being otherwise abused, is doing his best to
+defraud others, are gradually going out of fashion. And in the
+photoplay, which is now seen by all classes of people and is for all
+the people, racial characteristics must be treated in at least a
+fairly accurate manner, _and always good-naturedly_. Six or seven
+years ago, more than half the comedies produced were based upon a
+chase, or else depended largely upon slap-stick humor to raise a
+laugh. Not a few of them had as their chief comedy-incident an act of
+downright cruelty to some animal, or even to some human being. Today,
+when manufacturers are vying with each other to produce better,
+cleaner, and more universally enjoyable pictures, the script that
+violates Censorship rules or studio ethics by including any of the
+foregoing undesirable subjects stands but little show of reaching the
+production stage, if, indeed--which is extremely unlikely--it is
+accepted at all.
+
+"Good sense is at once the basis of and the limit to all humor. He who
+lacks a fine perception of 'the difference between what things are and
+what they ought to be,' as the always-to-be-quoted Hazlitt expressed
+it, can never write humor. All the way through we shall find that
+mirth is a matter of relationships, of shift, of rigidity trying to be
+flexible, of something shocked into something else.
+
+"Let us think of a circle on which four points have been marked:
+
+[Illustration:
+
+              5 The Serious 1
+
+4 The Contemptible          2 The Laughable
+
+              3 The Ridiculous]
+
+"Beginning with a serious idea, we may swiftly step from point to
+point until we return to the serious, with only slight variations from
+the original conception. Take the perennial comedy-theme of the impish
+collar, and visualize the scenes:
+
+"1. A man starts to button his collar. Nothing is less comical, as
+long as the operation proceeds normally.
+
+"2. But the button is too large and his efforts begin to exasperate
+him, with the result that his expression and movements become
+incongruous. We see, and laugh--though he does not.
+
+"3. He begins to hop around in a mad attempt to button the
+unbuttonable, and soon rips off the collar, addressing it in
+unparliamentary language. He is ludicrous, ridiculous, absurd.
+
+"4. In his rage he violently kicks a pet dog that comes wagging up to
+him. Our laughter subsides, for the fellow is more contemptible than
+amusing--a deeper feeling has been born in us.
+
+"5. The little dog limps off with a broken leg--we are no longer
+amused, we are indignant. What is more, not only have we gotten back
+to the serious, but there is no amusement left in any of the previous
+scenes.
+
+"Still applying the test of the _extent_ of the variation from the
+normal as shown in the effects, we conclude that _serious consequences
+kill humor_. The mere idea of such consequences, when we know that in
+the circumstances they are really impossible, may convulse us with
+merriment, as when we see a comedian jab a long finger into the mouth
+of his teammate and the latter chews it savagely. In real life this
+might sicken us with disgust--I say 'might,' because we can easily
+conceive of such a situation's exciting laughter if the victim were
+well deserving of the punishment. It is human for us to laugh when the
+biter is bit; indeed, variations on this theme are endless in humorous
+writing.
+
+"_Sympathy also kills humor._ The moment we begin to pity the victim
+of a joke--for humor has much to do with victims--our laughter dies
+away. Therefore the subject of the joke must not be one for whose
+distress we feel strong sympathy. The thing that happens to a fop is
+quite different in effect from that which affects a sweet old lady.
+True, we often laugh at those--or at those ideas--with whom or with
+which we are in sympathy, but in such an instance the ludicrous for
+the moment overwhelms our sympathy--and sometimes even destroys
+it."[32]
+
+[Footnote 32: J. Berg Esenwein _Writing for the Magazines_; published
+uniform with this volume in "The Writer's Library."]
+
+This one thing bear especially in mind: _clean_ comedy is even more
+essential than clean drama. It is so easy, when writing humorous
+material, to go wrong without intending it--indeed, even without
+knowing it. Under the guise of comedy some producers are responsible
+for scenes and situations that manage somehow or other to pass the
+censors, whereas the same scene in a dramatic photoplay would not be
+tolerated for a moment. But these are exceptions.
+
+The marital relation should be touched upon only in a way which admits
+of no offense being taken by right-minded and refined people. Real
+infidelity had far better be left out of humorous photoplays
+altogether. Here more than in any other branch of photoplay writing
+you should remember that what merely _might_ be tolerated on the
+regular stage would never do on the screen. It is well to remember
+also that just as the American public has tired of the chase and the
+foolish powder, it has also sickened of the coarse, suggestive, and
+even the questionable subjects that could once be depended upon to
+"get a laugh." There is absolutely no excuse for introducing anything
+into a picture today that would offend the good taste of any member of
+an audience. The local censorship boards of some cities have made
+themselves ridiculous in the eyes of thinking photoplay patrons, but
+the work done by the National Board of Censors has been the means of
+slowly and surely causing the lower class of photoplay patrons to
+acquire an appreciation of good dramatic subjects as well as more
+refined comedy.
+
+It may be said in passing that not all the companies producing
+farcical photoplays or slap-stick, as it is generally called--exclude
+the work of the outside writer. Such firms as do accept outside
+scripts of this kind are prepared to "go the limit" in the matter of
+expense in order to make their pictures superlatively funny and
+unusual in the matter of staging. The Pathe comedy, "Cleopatsy,"
+featuring the famous clown Toto, was a striking example of how a
+slap-stick comedy today is unhesitatingly given as elaborate and
+sumptuous a scenic investiture as was accorded a few years ago to
+screen-versions of Shakespearean or other "classic" plays. The laughs
+in this Pathe production were produced, principally, by the
+introduction of business and situations that simply could not have
+happened in the time of Cleopatra, Antony and Caesar. Thus we saw
+traffic policemen with their Stop and Go signals in the middle of the
+Sahara; telephones, check books, motorcycles and automobiles in use,
+and so on. In addition, the leaders were filled with modern business
+and other slang; and the spectacle of a huge negro wrapping Cleopatsy
+in a modern Axminster rug and carrying her in to show her to Antony
+(instead of, as according to history, Caesar) kept the spectators in a
+roar of laughter. For an originally-worked-out idea such as this there
+is nearly always a ready market.
+
+Finally, remember that comedy-action should run as smoothly as a
+well-oiled machine. Start with a good, fresh, funny idea and then
+make each scene run smoothly and logically into the next. There are
+certain series of comic pictures in the comic section of the
+newspapers which might well serve as your models for progressive and
+logical action. Mr. Bud Fisher's well-known "Mutt and Jeff" and Mr.
+George McManus's "Bringing Up Father" series are excellent examples.
+Particularly in the McManus pictures do we get funny, logical, and,
+above all, generally natural--in the sense of its being
+probable--comedy action. Take as an example the one which is
+sub-titled "It's a pity the valet left--he would have been such a nice
+playmate for Father." "Father," as we know, is the very much
+hen-pecked husband of a socially impossible woman who holds her place
+among the "400" only by reason of her husband's wealth. It is Father's
+constant ambition and determination to spend as much of his time as
+possible amongst his old "roughneck" working-man pals, instead of in
+attending his wife's receptions and other society functions. A
+sociable companion of his own class is what he constantly seeks. In
+this picture there are, as is usual in the Sunday supplements, twelve
+scenes. The action of the picture may be roughly synopsized as
+follows:
+
+Scene 1. Mrs. Jiggs introduces Mr. Jiggs--"Father"--to the new, and
+very English, valet--who "waited on Count de Miles until he died." To
+which Father (possible sub-title) replies: "No wonder he died!"
+
+Scene 2. The butler, in Father's room, announces that he "thinks
+he'll like the job and that Father won't find him hard to please."
+
+Scene 3. Shows Father making a critical inspection of the statue-like
+valet, and muttering that "his folks must have been fond of children,
+to raise him!"
+
+Scene 4. Shows Father glancing up at a shield and some ancient
+battle-clubs, spears and axes, hung on the wall. We can easily guess
+what is passing in his mind.
+
+Scene 5. Father takes the valet over to the window and stands him
+facing out, saying that he wishes to show him the wonderful view.
+Behind his back Father holds one of the war-clubs.
+
+Scene 6. As the valet gazes out of the window, Father swings the club
+upward, preparing for a mighty blow, muttering as he does so: "It's a
+duty I owe my country."
+
+Scene 7. Just as Father is about to strike, the valet glances down at
+something on the corner of the dresser, and exclaims: "Ah! A pinochle
+deck! My favorite game!" To which Father replies: "_Oh!_ Do you play
+cards?"
+
+Scene 8. Here they are in the middle of an exciting game, Father
+winning everything, the chips piled high before him. The valet asks:
+"Will you pardon me? I'll see if I can get some of my wages in
+advance."
+
+Scene 9. In the lower hallway. Shows the valet asking Mrs. Jiggs for
+his salary in advance, adding that "the count always paid him ahead."
+
+Scene 10. Back in the room upstairs, with Father at the table, on
+which are piled the valet's clothes, while the constantly losing valet
+plays his last hand from behind a screen.
+
+Scene 11. Shows the entrance of the butler, who tells Father that Mrs.
+Jiggs "wishes to see him at once."
+
+Scene 12. Shows the inglorious dismissal of the pinochle-loving valet,
+dressed only in three of Mrs. Jiggs' hat boxes, the bottoms of which
+have been knocked out. When Mrs. Jiggs declares "Pack your things and
+get out immediately--you are fired!" the valet answers gloomily: "I
+have nothing to pack, Madam!"
+
+This, although merely an idea drawn out into a dozen pictures, is the
+sort that might easily be made the foundation for a laughable short
+comedy. Barring the fact that one or two of the scenes are played (so
+to speak) in the same setting, with no leader or other scene
+separating them--as would be the case in photoplay--this newspaper
+"funny" is much better put together, much more logical, and is just
+about the same number of scenes as were many of the split-reel
+comedies of a few years ago. Almost all of the more popular comic
+series in the newspapers, in fact, may be studied with profit by the
+would-be writer of screen comedies. There is action, and often very
+funny action, in every picture, and the plot moves quickly, logically,
+and without the slightest sign of unnecessary detail or irrelevant
+action, to an extremely funny climax, which, best of all, is usually a
+surprise to the reader.
+
+Apply the same working-principle to the writing of humorous
+photoplays, especially the plan of having a surprise climax followed
+by a quick denouement, and you can hardly fail to produce a comedy
+that will cause the editor to notify you favorably.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+GETTING THE NEW TWIST
+
+
+_No_ story is an old story if you give it a new "twist"--a fresh turn,
+an original surprise, an unexpected course of narration. As a matter
+of fact, this is what fiction writers and dramatists have been doing
+for hundreds of years; taking an old idea, they have twisted it about,
+enlarged upon it, provided a new setting for the story, and created
+something new, yet in truth far from new, from the idea furnished by
+another writer. Who evolved the "original" plot in any certain case is
+a question that will forever remain a question, for the earliest plays
+and stories are no longer extant. But this we do know: there are only
+a very few original or primary plots, and all the plays, novels, and
+short-stories that have been written are variations of these. Some
+writers have made the twist more pronounced, and their work, judged by
+present-day standards, is classed as original. Others, without trying
+to conceal the source of their plots, nevertheless give them new
+treatment, and so are not charged with plagiarism. Therefore we may
+conclude that that writer is entitled to be called original who is
+capable of so twisting and remodeling the theme used by another writer
+that it is, in the remodeling, virtually recreated.
+
+
+_1. An Example from Fiction_
+
+As a concrete example, let us compare Poe's short-story, "The Cask of
+Amontillado," with Conan Doyle's "The New Catacomb." In both of these
+the theme is revenge, brought about by having the one seeking to
+entomb his enemy alive--the same theme, precisely, as Balzac had used
+earlier in "La Grande Breteche," and Edith Wharton in later years in
+"The Duchess at Prayer." In "The Cask of Amontillado," Montresor
+desires to be revenged upon Fortunato because the latter has both
+injured and insulted him. Exactly how he has been insulted we are not
+told; nor do we know the extent of his "injuries." It is sufficient
+for the purpose of the story that we know that his Latin blood has
+been roused sufficiently to make him eager to compass the death of his
+enemy--who is none the less his enemy although, up till the very
+moment when Fortunato realizes the awful fate that is to be his, he
+(Montresor) pretends friendship for his victim. After Montresor's
+revenge has been accomplished by walling up Fortunato in a
+subterranean vault, the perpetrator feels no remorse. He has completed
+what he set out to do, and is satisfied. He has "punished with
+impunity" and he has made the fact that he is the redresser felt by
+"him who has done the wrong."
+
+What chiefly impresses the reader is the lack of motive for
+Montresor's crime--for crime it surely is, whatever his real or
+fancied wrongs--other than the motive of a madman. At the conclusion
+our sympathy for the unfortunate victim of Montresor's hate is
+perhaps as great as is our pity for Montresor himself.
+
+But note that Doyle's story is not only an original piece of
+fiction--as we have just interpreted that expression--but also one in
+which we recognize that the seeker after revenge is thoroughly
+deserving of our sympathy, even though we do not entirely approve of
+his bringing about the death of even so unworthy a creature as we know
+his enemy to be. In Doyle's story, as in Poe's, the background is
+Italy, but Italy of the present day, so we feel that we understand the
+motives of the characters better because they are of our own time.
+There is a definite and grievous wrong committed against the young
+woman with whom the central character is in love, therefore the wrong
+is committed indirectly against the lover himself. We are made to
+realize the despicable nature, the utter heartlessness, of the young
+woman's betrayer, and we actually _hate_ him as soon as the facts are
+made clear to us. We realize how great has been the love for her
+cherished by the man who finally punishes the one who has wronged her,
+by causing him to be entombed alive in a Roman catacomb which he
+himself has but recently discovered.
+
+In Poe's story, Fortunato is chained to the wall of the vault, after
+which he is literally walled up and buried alive. In "The New
+Catacomb," the redresser of the wrong takes the evil-doer down into
+the catacomb and leaves him while he finds his own way out by means of
+a trail of cord, knowing that the other, unable to follow him, is
+being left in what will be his tomb.
+
+The dramatic intensity of Doyle's story is just as great as in that
+written by Poe; the "hero" is as much deserving of our sympathy as the
+"villain" merits our condemnation; and the treatment of the theme,
+from first to last, makes Doyle's an absolutely original story,
+although there is little doubt that it was suggested, or, at least
+influenced, either by the one written many years before by the
+American master of the short-story, or by Balzac's remarkable tale
+referred to above.
+
+The discriminating photoplaywright will have no difficulty in making
+the application of this illustration of how an original story may grow
+out of an old theme. _But be careful not to turn this liberty into an
+excuse for adhering closely to a borrowed theme._
+
+
+_2. Plagiarism_
+
+In justice to writers in general it is only fair to believe that most
+cases of plagiarism are quite unintentional. The fault usually is in
+the writer's memory. Turn your eye inward, and form the habit of
+tracing the origin of your inspirations--sometimes it may chagrin you
+to find how near to unconscious imitation you have been. You may get
+the inspiration for a story and write it; it may be accepted and
+produced; then, after its release, some friend will casually remark
+that it reminds him of a Vitagraph picture that he saw a year or two
+ago. And only after he has called your attention to it do you realize
+that that Vitagraph story, seen and forgotten, _was_ the source of
+your "inspiration"--and perhaps you have committed an unconscious
+theft.
+
+In an earlier chapter we have urged photoplaywrights to keep in touch
+with the market so as to avoid writing on trite themes. But that
+practise will not help the conscious plagiarist. Why should he invent
+a new twist when he can steal one? This would seem to be his
+short-sighted logic. Fortunately, there are not many unscrupulous
+writers who deliberately attempt to sell to editors stories which are
+simply adaptations of more or less well-known stories or plays. A
+great deal has been said about editors and their assistants being
+familiar with standard literature and current books, plays, and
+magazine stories. But no editor is infallible, and once in a while a
+stolen story "gets by." We know of two companies, each of which within
+the space of six months produced stories that were plainly
+recognizable as adaptations of "The Adventure of the Norwood Builder,"
+the second story in "The Return of Sherlock Holmes." Another company
+released a picture that was simply Maupassant's "The Necklace" so
+carelessly re-dressed that we wonder the editor did not recognize it
+after reading the first paragraph of the synopsis.
+
+The final test of whether a story really resembles another closely
+enough to suggest intentional plagiarism is when the similarity
+between the two is recognized immediately by people in many different
+parts of the country--yet that is too late to help any one involved!
+The short-stories of "O. Henry" have been so widely read that when a
+new story appears that closely resembles one of his it is not long
+before comparisons are made. Three or four years ago a certain company
+made a two-part picture that so closely resembled O. Henry's "The
+Reformation of Calliope" that after its release one of the present
+writers received letters of inquiry from photoplaywrights in five
+different cities commenting upon it, three of the letters being from
+young writers who, recognizing the resemblance, asked if it were
+"permissible to take the principal plot-idea of a copyrighted story
+and, by changing it about slightly, make it into a salable photoplay."
+As might be supposed, they were earnestly advised to refrain from
+doing so.
+
+A dozen years ago there appeared in the English edition of _The Strand
+Magazine_ a story in which a retired Indian officer, at a dinner given
+to a party of his friends, displays a remarkably fine diamond. The
+jewel is unset, having been taken--as most jewels in stories of this
+kind are--from the head of an Indian idol. The stone is passed around
+for inspection. The Hindoo servant is clearing some of the things from
+the table, and the diamond has just been admired by an old gentleman
+in a rather frayed dress-suit, when the attention of everyone present
+is drawn away from the table for a moment or two. When they turn
+around, the diamond has disappeared. Naturally, the guests are
+embarrassed, but they all offer to allow themselves to be searched,
+with the exception of the shabby-genteel old gentleman. While he
+protests that he knows nothing of how the stone has disappeared, he
+stubbornly refuses to allow them to search his clothes. The effect
+upon the other guests may easily be imagined. Later, however, one of
+the guests having followed him home, it is discovered that the poor
+old man has merely filled his pockets with different delicacies from
+the table, and has taken them home to his sick grandchild.
+Subsequently it is discovered that the Hindoo servant has taken the
+jewel, and he is arrested and punished. In the moment that the
+attention of the guests was directed elsewhere, after the old
+gentleman had laid it on the table, the servant had snatched up the
+jewel and dropped it into a half-filled water glass, where it remained
+undiscovered while the servant was searched with the others. It is
+pretty generally known that an unset pure diamond, if dropped into a
+glass of water, becomes invisible.
+
+Some time during 1911, one of the producing companies released a
+picture entitled "The Class Reunion." To get the plot of the photoplay
+story, simply substitute an impecunious professor for the old
+gentleman in the short-story. Instead of the Hindoo servant, have one
+of the pupils--if our memory serves--turn out to be the thief, and
+have him drop the jewel--which is a ruby, and not a diamond--into a
+glass of red wine instead of into a glass of water. In all other
+particulars the two stories were identical.
+
+Only a few months later, this plot cropped up again--in fiction
+form--in a prominent American magazine. Then, in the release of
+another well-known company, of January 13, 1913, it again did service
+in the photoplay "The Thirteenth Man," where the inevitable banquet is
+the annual reunion of "The Thirteen Club." The theme has now become so
+hackneyed that, as the list given in Chapter XVI shows, it is no
+longer serviceable for photoplay purposes.
+
+Obviously, these facts are cited not to discredit the companies
+referred to, but solely to emphasize the difference between the
+genuinely new twist as exemplified in Conan Doyle's "The New
+Catacomb," and the dangerously close similarity as exhibited in at
+least one of the two photoplays just referred to as following the plot
+of the _Strand_ story.
+
+It must not be inferred, however, that all cases in which the themes
+of short-stories are developed into photoplays with very little change
+are plagiarisms, either conscious or unconscious. Many important
+companies are negotiating constantly with the magazines for the right
+to photodramatize their most suitable short-stories. Sometimes this is
+done with the consent of the author and the plot of the story used
+substantially without change, while in other instances the plot is
+freely changed, only the germ being used. It is particularly in such
+cases that we must be careful not to charge plagiarism.
+
+In this connection it is important to note that the photoplaywright
+cannot be too careful in respecting the rights of publishers and
+authors in their fictional properties. To many writers it is not clear
+precisely what rights an author parts with when he, without any other
+stipulation, sells a short-story or a longer piece of fiction outright
+to a magazine, so he must be careful in offering moving-picture rights
+to a company unless he is _sure_, from a clear _understanding_ with
+the magazine publisher, that he is at liberty to do so. If these
+points are not altogether in the clear to you, nevertheless it is
+certainly wise to be definite in securing your own copyright on
+stories, when that is possible, by agreeing with your publisher for
+the release to you of all dramatic rights.
+
+To return once more to the subject of originality, in W.W. Jacobs's
+story, "The Monkey's Paw," the thrillingly terrible crisis begins when
+the father, much against his will, makes use of the second wish
+granted to him as the possessor of the fatal paw and wishes his dead
+son alive again. In the night he and his wife are aroused by a
+familiar knocking on their door. The mother, believing it to be their
+son returned to life, rushes to let him in, but while she is trying to
+unlock the door, the husband, remembering the terrible condition of
+the son's body, he having been crushed to death by some machinery,
+utters the third and last wish. The knocking ceases, and when the
+woman succeeds in getting the door open, the street lamp flickering
+opposite is shining on a quiet and deserted road.
+
+Substantially the same plot is used in a story published in _The Blue
+Book_, "The Little Stone God," the principal difference being that,
+when those in the house hear the knocking on the door, they refuse, in
+utter terror, to answer the summons. The knocking ceases; and the next
+morning they learn that a telegraph messenger boy called at the house
+with a message on the previous night and, after knocking several times
+in vain, went away again.
+
+The foregoing are only a few examples of plots which strongly resemble
+one another. How it comes that they resemble one another it is not our
+province to discuss any further--the point is that if your story is
+inspired by the work of another writer, give it such an absolutely
+original treatment that you can conscientiously refer to it as
+original.
+
+"Don't waste time in rewriting other people's brain-children, for the
+scenario-editor goblins will catch you sure as fate, and once you get
+a reputation for plagiarism, not a film-maker will dare to buy any
+manuscript from you for fear it is copyrighted."[33]
+
+[Footnote 33: Herbert Case Hoagland, _How to Write a Photoplay_.]
+
+In photoplays as in novels and short-stories nothing is so
+disappointing as a story whose title is inviting, and the first few
+pages--or scenes, as the case may be--interesting, but which soon
+begins to reveal itself as nothing more than a story with which we are
+already familiar, though slightly changed in a few particulars in the
+hope that it may be welcomed as an original work. We say "slightly
+changed," for if the all-important new twist is not given the story
+cannot escape detection as being what it is--a mere copy of the
+original.
+
+"The formula upon which the plot is built is of venerable antiquity,"
+says Frederick Taber Cooper, in _The Bookman_, in reviewing a certain
+novel. Then, although he commends the purpose of the story, he
+concludes: "But the book is not really an important one, because there
+have been scores of books equally well written which have already said
+much the same thing. The author has not had any new twist to give to
+the old theme--and, worst of all, we know from wearisome past
+experience just how the plot will work out, just how inevitable it is
+that Kenneth will achieve fame, and his father will be reconciled, and
+Jean, convinced of her injustice, will tearfully plead for
+forgiveness." Don't lay yourself open to such a criticism.
+
+
+_3. What Is Originality?_
+
+"Popularly, we call that man original who stands on his own feet, uses
+the thoughts of others only to stimulate and supplement his own, and
+who does his best to color borrowed thought with the hue of his own
+personality. Such a man, if he be not a creator, is at least a
+thinker, and a thinker need never be a literary thief. The entrance of
+any thought that will set the mind to working should be welcome
+indeed."[34]
+
+[Footnote 34: J. Berg Esenwein, _Writing the Short-Story_.]
+
+Speaking of the way in which a writer may take an old plot and work it
+over, Frank E. Woods, the former "Spectator" of the _Dramatic Mirror_,
+says:
+
+"That is precisely what every author does in nine cases out of ten. He
+utilizes and adapts the ideas he has gained from various sources. It
+is when he follows another author's sequence or association of ideas
+or arrangement of incidents so closely as to make his work appear to
+be an obvious copy or colorable imitation, that he is guilty."
+
+
+_4. The New Twist Illustrated_
+
+As an example of the way in which an old theme may be given a new
+twist, let us compare the plot of Browning's "Pippa Passes"--which,
+by the way, was wonderfully well produced in motion-picture form by
+the Biograph Company in 1909--and James Oppenheim's photoplay, "Annie
+Crawls Upstairs," produced by the Edison Company.
+
+In each, the theme is the spiritual redemption of several different
+characters through the influence of the heroine, who in each case
+accomplishes this worthy end quite unconsciously. Pippa, the
+mill-girl, spends her holiday wandering through the town and over the
+countryside, singing her innocent and happy-hearted songs. It is the
+effect of those songs upon those who hear them that gives the
+poem-story its dramatic moments and makes up the plot. In Mr.
+Oppenheim's story, the heroine, Annie, is a tiny, crippled child who,
+wandering out of the tenement kitchen where her half-drunken father is
+quarreling with his wife, crawls painfully up one flight of stairs
+after another, innocently walking into each flat in turn, and in each
+doing some good by her mere presence. On one floor a wayward girl is
+so affected by meeting with the crippled child that she remains at
+home with her mother instead of going out to join a party of friends
+of questionable character; on another floor she is instrumental in
+preventing an ex-convict from joining his former pals in another
+crime; in the flat above, she brings together two lovers who are about
+to part in anger; in the next flat she comforts a busy dressmaker who
+has lost patience with and scolded her little girl for being in her
+way while she is at work, and who realizes on seeing Annie that she
+should at least be thankful that her child has health and strength,
+and does not, therefore, add the care and worry of sickness to the
+burden of poverty. Finally, on the top floor, a young man, heart-sick
+and weary of the vain search for work in a strange city, coming out of
+his room finds little Annie asleep, her head resting against the frame
+of the door. As he carries her down to her own flat, he picks up
+courage, banishes the thoughts of suicide which a few moments before
+had filled his brain, and resolves to try again. The picture ends with
+the mother and father, their quarrel forgotten, bending over the
+child.
+
+[Illustration: Preparing to Take Three Scenes at Once in a Daylight
+Studio]
+
+Thus, consciously or unconsciously, Mr. Oppenheim has used the same
+theme that Browning used; but he has given it a new twist with the
+introduction of each new incident in the story. The little lame child
+of the tenements does not seem to speak a word in the picture, and the
+scene between the two young lovers parting after their quarrel is
+totally unlike the scene between Ottima and Sebald in Browning's poem,
+yet we feel that the good influence that changes the heart of the
+burglar, as he sits there planning the new crime, is the same as that
+which shakes the guilty wife and her lover when Pippa passes beneath
+the window of Luca's house, singing:
+
+    _God's in his heaven--
+    All's right with the world!_
+
+We have read of a Western script in which the outlaw, wounded and
+bleeding, is given shelter by the heroine. When the sheriff arrives,
+he sees the basin containing the bloody water and inquires how it
+comes there. Even while he is looking at it, the girl cuts her hand
+with a knife, and declares that, having cut herself before the
+Sheriff's arrival, she has just washed her hand in the basin.
+
+This incident, or situation, is almost identical with one in the
+Ambrosio Company's "After Fifty Years," which won the first prize of
+twenty-five thousand francs ($5,000) at the Turin Exhibition, and
+which showed as one of its many thrilling situations the Italian
+heroine gashing her hand with a knife held behind her back, to explain
+to the Austrian soldier who is in search of her lover the presence of
+blood on her sleeve.
+
+Yet this could not be called a theft, or even a re-arrangement of
+another writer's plot. The plot, characters, and setting were entirely
+different in each play--it was only that one situation that was made
+use of; and it seems likely that it was from the Ambrosio picture, or
+the account of it, that the author of the Western story got his
+inspiration. Yet who can really tell? Thoughts are marvellous things,
+and both writers may have gotten their ideas from some other
+original--or even conceived them in their own brains.
+
+After all, as has been pointed out, the trouble with many young
+writers is that they are not content with copying a single situation.
+They have not been "in the game" long enough to realize either the
+risk that they are taking or the wrong that they are doing a fellow
+writer, so they not only adapt to their own needs a strong situation
+in another's story but precede and follow it with other incidents and
+situations which are substantially the same as those surrounding the
+big situation in the original story.
+
+But giving an old theme a new twist is a trick of the trade that comes
+only with experience, and experience is gained by practice. Experience
+and practice soon teach the photoplaywright not to rely too heavily
+upon the newspaper for new ideas, for almost every day editors receive
+two or more plots which closely resemble each other, simply because
+the writers, having all chosen the same theme, have all worked that
+theme up in the same way--the _obvious_ way, the _easiest_ way, the
+way that involves the least care, and therefore the least ingenuity.
+
+"Where do the good plots come from, anyhow?" asks John Robert Moore.
+"We people in universities often amuse ourselves by tracing stories
+back to their origins. The trouble is that we often reach the limit of
+our knowledge, but rarely find the beginning; for the _plot_ seems to
+be as old as the race. What, then, has been changed in a story which
+has been raised from a mediaeval legend to a modern work of art?
+
+"In such cases, the setting and the moral content are almost
+invariably altered. An absurdly comic story about an Irishman and a
+monkey, which was current a couple of centuries ago, became 'The
+Murders in the Rue Morgue' in the hands of Poe. The central plot
+remained much the same, but the whole of the setting and the
+intellectual content assumed a new and vastly higher significance.
+'The Bottle Imp' harks back to the Middle Ages; but Stevenson made a
+world-famous story of it by giving it the flavor of the South Sea
+Islands which he knew so well."
+
+So there are both discouragement and cheer for those who accept the
+Wise Man's dictum that there is nothing new under the sun. In the one
+aspect, there seems little chance for the novice since the primary
+plots are really so few; but in the other view, fresh arrangements of
+old combinations are always possible for those who see life with open
+eyes, alert minds, warm hearts, and the resolve to be as original as
+they can.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+COMPLETE FIVE-REEL PHOTOPLAY SCRIPT "EVERYBODY'S GIRL"
+
+Adapted from "O. Henry's" Short-Story, "Brickdust Row," by A. Van
+Buren Powell, and Produced in Film Form by The Vitagraph Company[35]
+
+[Footnote 35: Used by permission. Copyright, 1918, by the Vitagraph
+Company of America. All rights reserved.]
+
+
+The mere reading of the following photoplay script will not do you any
+good. To get any benefit from it you must _study_ it.
+
+The script, which is an adaptation--the short-story of a famous
+author, "O. Henry," translated into screen technique--is in the form
+in which it was accepted for production. An adaptation rather than the
+script of an original idea is chosen for two reasons: the story from
+which it was made is accessible in every library, and the translation
+into production-form offers certain problems which make it a more
+effective lesson in idea-building.
+
+Pretend that you are a staff writer, and that you are to "do" a
+certain story by "O. Henry." Get from your library the book of
+short-stories by the famous author which contains "Brickdust Row"--the
+volume is entitled "The Trimmed Lamp." Read the story--read it until
+you are thoroughly familiar with its every word. Read it analytically.
+You are to make an adaptation of it. What must that adaptation have
+for its fundamental purpose?--the preservation of "O. Henry's" charm
+of atmosphere; the utilization of his cleverness with words, wherever
+possible in leaders; the emphasizing of his purpose in writing the
+story. What was that purpose? Was it not to show how a man's code of
+ethics, mistakenly clung to, resulted in his misjudging a perfectly
+innocent girl, with resultant tragedy? And, contributory to this, was
+it not the aim of the original author to emphasize and excuse the
+conduct of the girl--conduct arising naturally from her environment
+and station in life?
+
+These things must be conveyed, then, through the medium of
+characterization, with the help of little human touches. The girl must
+be shown as sweet, clean, without a wrong thought; the man must be
+clearly depicted, his reason for being so seemingly churlish and
+careless of the duties imposed upon him by his ownership of many
+tenements must be handled in such a way that he will not be an
+unsympathetic character.
+
+Then we are confronted with certain studio conditions. The story must
+be made of feature length--five or more reels. Again, tragedy is not
+welcome on the screen. Arguments might be offered to show that the
+original story will lose strength through the addition of the "happy
+ending." We cannot help that--in fact, we must surmount that obstacle.
+We must _make_ the story equally strong and try, if we can, to add to
+its lesson. We cannot air our ideals, and write just as we wish; we
+must conform to the set rules of our particular studio, as well as to
+the general rules covering screencraft.
+
+The change of title is governed by so many factors that it need only
+be said that the alternative title was given as possessing a greater
+advertising and drawing power.[36]
+
+[Footnote 36: In Mr. Van Buren Powell's new book, _The Photoplay
+Synopsis_, published uniform with this volume in "The Writer's
+Library," he explains why this title was changed.]
+
+Now we have dissected "O. Henry's" original story. We have decided
+what we must do with it. Comes the director for consultation. He feels
+that the story is not long enough. It need not be padded, but an
+additional character might be introduced to bring out and emphasize
+the true character of our leading woman, and at the same time the
+required dramatic element and the contrasting of his character with
+that of the leading man may be achieved by his presence.
+
+So, agreeing with the director, we write our script.
+
+Throughout, notes will call your attention to certain points that will
+help your understanding of the technical purposes of certain material.
+
+
+"EVERYBODY'S GIRL"
+
+SYNOPSIS
+
+Florence is a shop girl, of the quiet, sweet, clean type. She finds it
+hard to make ends meet. Her more practical, more worldly-wise friend,
+Ella, the shoe-store cashier, suggests that they share her present
+quarters in "Brickdust Row"--a decaying tenement block. By this
+division of expense they can both save "enough to buy an extra pickle
+for lunch once in a while."
+
+When Florence sees "Brickdust Row" she is depressed by its dull
+aspect, its dreary environment. But she accepts Ella's proposal, and
+the two girls begin their sharing of the tiny room as cheerfully as
+possible.
+
+Through a terrifying experience with a male flirt Florence comes to
+learn that Ella has long been used to accepting attentions and escort
+from men outside the home atmosphere. Ella explains that since the
+owner of "Brickdust Row" is so avaricious that he allows the parlors
+to be rented out, no place is provided where the girls may entertain
+men properly, and so the society of the opposite sex must be sought
+and enjoyed "here, there and everywhere."
+
+The idea is repugnant to Florence, who is unusually fine in her ideas
+of propriety; but she comes to see that Ella's way is the only outlet
+for youth and the desire for companionship, brightness, life.
+
+She is very choice in her selection of escorts, and never permits any
+young man she meets to discover even where she lives.
+
+The owner of the tenements is a bored, money-spoiled young
+man--Alexander Blinker. His lawyer tries to make him take enough
+interest in his tenements to change the leases so that the girls can
+have a place to meet gentlemen with the shield of propriety. Blinker
+is too anxious to get to a golf tournament even to listen.
+
+Florence grows used to her role of "Everybody's Girl," and while she
+is decidedly decorous, she learns the arts and affectations of the
+"street meeting."
+
+Blinker has to come to his lawyer in order to sign some important
+documents; they are not prepared. He must stay in the city over
+Sunday. The idea fills him with disgust; he longs for the hunting trip
+he has planned. In sheer desperation he decides to do that which his
+butler considers equivalent to jumping from the window, in view of his
+social status--Blinker determines to go to Coney Island.
+
+His experiences may be imagined as he is pushed and jostled by the
+rough-and-ready pleasure-seekers. He gets on the boat and is seen by
+Florence, who regards him as a prospective escort and so conducts
+herself that he is virtually forced into conversation, and with no
+experience to guide him in this strange method of introduction, he
+manages to bear himself suitably, to the end that the two debark at
+the island of pleasure-seeking and set out to enjoy themselves,
+Florence being the guide, by virtue of her experience.
+
+At first Blinker feels entirely out of his element, but Florence shows
+him the spirit in which to accept the tinsel and the rude fun-making.
+He soon comes to like it--and to think very well of the naively
+"different" girl beside him.
+
+He is treated like all her other cavaliers at the time and place of
+parting--she goes home alone. He returns to his apartment with a new
+idea of the city's possibilities.
+
+That same evening Florence finds an intruder unceremoniously invading
+her room--a "gang" leader who believes the shot he has just fired at
+an adversary has been fatal in its effect. He tells her his story, but
+says he did not do the shooting. She believes him, and when the police
+come to her door in their search for the culprit, she pretends that
+the man opposite her at the table is her brother.
+
+Later she learns that he has told her a falsehood, but she does not
+deliver him to justice, and when she finds that the man who was shot
+is not fatally injured, she sends the shielded one away in safety; for
+which display of her fine sense of loyalty he becomes a veritable
+watchdog, never intruding his presence upon her, but being always near
+to observe the quality of the companions she still allows herself.
+
+Blinker meets her by appointment the next evening, and the faithful
+Watchdog follows them to Coney Island, vigilant, feeling sure than a
+man of the evident social status of Blinker can mean no good to a girl
+in Florence's station.
+
+On the boat, coming home, Blinker tells Florence that he loves her. So
+accustomed is she to this display of sentimentality in her cavaliers
+that she merely laughs. He persists, and she indicates a belief that
+he is just like the rest. Mention of "the rest" awakes question in
+Blinker. He learns that she meets men indiscriminately. He has a
+horror of this evidence of what he considers to be moral laxity, and
+when Florence sees this she is amazed. _He_ has met her in the same
+way, yet he is shocked that she should meet others! In justifying her
+course she explains what sort of place "Brickdust Row" is, and how the
+girls are driven out.
+
+A fire is discovered on the boat, and in the excitement Blinker and
+Florence are separated and the Watchdog is unable to find the girl he
+worships. She has jumped into the water as the flames drew too close
+to her.
+
+Later she is found at home by the Watchdog, safe though suffering from
+shock. He discovers that the shock is less from exposure than from her
+discovery that Blinker was serious, and that he refused to condone her
+mode of meeting men.
+
+Blinker is visited by his lawyer, and in their conversation, a
+reference to "Brickdust Row" gives Blinker the knowledge that he is
+the owner of that tenement--that it is his own fault which gives rise
+to such unconventional practices as Florence has innocently indulged
+in. It is too late, he thinks, now--too late to change things. His
+dream of love is rudely dispelled.
+
+However, after a visit from the Watchdog, in which the gangster
+loyally champions Florence's character and "lays down the law" to
+Blinker, the latter sees Florence again, realizing his own great fault
+in being too quick to judge--and the reconciliation is made sweeter by
+his willingness to have Florence do her will with the remodeling of
+the tenement, while the Watchdog finds comfort in the smiles of Ella.
+
+
+CAST OF CHARACTERS[37]
+
+FLORENCE            A sweet, innocent girl, whose environment
+                    shapes her conduct;
+                    sympathetic type.
+
+BLINKER             Rich, idle, careless of responsibility,
+                    and as much a victim to his
+                    own station as is Florence; slightly
+                    affected; but must not lose sympathy
+                    or create distaste.
+
+ELLA                Snappy, shop-girl type; keen contrast
+                    to Florence, and used to build
+                    up and emphasize the fine nature of
+                    Florence.
+
+BILL[38]            A typical slums character--gang
+                    leader; generally living by his wits,
+                    but possessed of a deep-rooted devotion
+                    to anybody who is "square"
+                    with him.
+
+FRANK               A typical street-flirt.
+
+LAWYER OLDPORT      A quizzical man of the "old school."
+
+Types of the tenement district. Police, etc.
+
+Typical crowds at Coney Island, and on boat.
+
+[Footnote 37: It will be observed that Mr. Powell uses now and then
+slightly different methods of type-arrangement and nomenclature from
+those used by Mr. Leeds. These are all unimportant variations.]
+
+[Footnote 38: Bill is the interpolated character, whose purpose will
+be seen in script.]
+
+
+SCENARIO, OR CONTINUITY OF SCENES
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     THUS DOES FLORENCE COAX A FEW RELUCTANT DOLLARS INTO HER
+     WEEKLY PURSE.
+
+1--Interior small hat-trimming shop.
+
+     The diaphragm opens to show Florence trimming a hat. She is
+     a pathetic figure as she looks down at the hat and realizes
+     that such finery is beyond her owning. She looks up and
+     smiles gratefully as the owner of the place comes from
+     paying others in view, and drops an envelope on table before
+     her.[39]
+
+[Footnote 39: Nothing important happens here, but the scene is devised
+to gain sympathy for the girl at once.]
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     THE SHOP GIRL'S CONSTANT PROBLEM--MAKING ENDS MEET--HELPS
+     FLORENCE WEAR OUT MANY A PENCIL.
+
+2--Boarding house steps.
+
+     Florence is discovered sitting on step, figuring out her
+     accounts with a stubby pencil on back of an old envelope.
+     She looks disconsolately at her figures. Then as she glances
+     up her eyes brighten and she waves a hand.[40]
+
+[Footnote 40: Continuing atmosphere of sympathy for Florence, and
+beginning story in leisurely manner in harmony with its lack of
+dramatic opening.]
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     FRIEND ELLA, OF THE SHOE-STORE CASHIER'S CAGE.
+
+3--Street near boarding house.
+
+     Ella, whose face is piquant with recognition, waves in a
+     snappy, "Oh! Hello, Kid" manner, and goes toward boarding
+     house.
+
+4--Boarding house steps, as in 2. Close-up of two girls.
+
+     Ella comes on and greets Florence in breezy way; Florence is
+     pleased, but her manner of salutation is more quiet, though
+     equally sincere. Ella drops on step, looks at figures, and
+     grins. Florence indicates her depression, due to the figures
+     that will not balance with her meager income. Ella makes a
+     proposition, saying:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "WHY NOT SHARE A ROOM WITH ME? WE MIGHT EACH SAVE ENOUGH TO
+     ADD A DILL PICKLE TO OUR LUNCH."
+
+     Florence is impressed, and Ella bids her come along and see
+     the place.[41]
+
+[Footnote 41: Ella definitely introduced; relationship of the girls
+established. Note characterization in leader.]
+
+5--Wider view of steps.
+
+     As Florence rises, she hesitates, and seems to be averse to
+     putting her friend to inconvenience. Ella grins gayly, and
+     says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "WHEN YOU SEE 'BRICKDUST ROW'--WHERE I LIVE--YOU WON'T THINK
+     I'M DOING YOU ANY FAVOR."
+
+     She urges Florence to come along. Two girls leave scene.[42]
+
+[Footnote 42: Note planting of tenement name in leader--bringing
+forecast of atmosphere.]
+
+6--A street corner.
+
+     A blind man is selling pencils. Ella and Florence come on.
+     Florence pauses, fishes coin from her purse and buys a
+     pencil. Then, as Ella keeps right on, turning corner,
+     Florence smiles gently and pauses again.
+
+7--Street corner--close-up of hands.
+
+     Florence gently slips the purchased pencil back into hand of
+     blind man, allowing her hand to rest commiseratingly on his
+     arm an instant.
+
+8--Wider view of street corner.
+
+     Ella turns to see what is keeping Florence, who is hurrying
+     away to avoid the man's "Bless you, and the Saints protect
+     you!"[43]
+
+[Footnote 43: Three scenes contain "human touch." Note the "close-up"
+as differing from "bust" used later on.]
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     "BRICKDUST ROW," WITH ITS DREARY MONOTONY AND CRUMBLING
+     DECAY, IS A PLACE TO SIGH OVER--NOT TO LIVE IN.[44]
+
+[Footnote 44: O. Henry's atmosphere.]
+
+9--Long view of street with typical tenements.
+
+     Showing the dreary atmosphere of the place as Florence and
+     Ella come along street and pause at a doorway.
+
+10--Closer view doorway.
+
+     Emphasis of atmosphere. Ella unlatching door as Florence
+     touches side-rail of low stoop and looks downcast,
+     shuddering a bit. They go in.
+
+11--Lower hall of tenement.
+
+     A worn whisk-broom hangs on wall. There is a comedy touch as
+     Ella and Florence come in, and the latter notices the
+     whisk-broom.
+
+12--Bust view. Wall.
+
+     Showing whisk-broom.
+
+13--Wider view of hall.
+
+     Ella laughs, and says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "THE FIRST TIME YOU START OUT FROM THIS DUST-FACTORY YOU'LL
+     KNOW WHY THAT'S THERE!"
+
+     Florence is dubious about liking the place, but follows Ella
+     up the rickety, dust-laden stairway.
+
+14--Ella's tiny but neat room--window on fire-escape.
+
+     Ella brings Florence in. Ella throws out hands in gesture of
+     "Here it is--not much, I'll admit." Florence exclaims in
+     reassuring affectation of delight and says she will take
+     Ella's offer.
+
+     Diaphragm out.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     WE NOTE ONE BLINKER--ALEXANDER BLINKER--OWNING TENEMENTS
+     GALORE, AND LEADING A GENERALLY USELESS LIFE BECAUSE HE HAS
+     BEEN BROUGHT UP THAT WAY.
+
+15--Oldport's legal office. Close-up at door.
+
+     Diaphragm in to a close view of Blinker, introducing him in
+     a very unpleasing humor, evidently sour about something.[45]
+
+[Footnote 45: We are handling O. Henry's incident now, and must use
+his leader-material, so the next situation must be broken into various
+"close-up" views to prevent having too long a scene and too irksome a
+run of spoken matter in one scene.]
+
+16--Oldport's office--wider view.
+
+     Showing Oldport looking quizzically at the fuming Blinker as
+     the latter advances, saying:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "IF I _MUST_ SIGN THOSE DISGUSTING LEASES, LET US GET IT
+     OVER. I HAVE A GOLF TOURNAMENT ON--"
+
+     He advances and slumps pettishly into a chair by desk.
+
+17--Close-up of Oldport.
+
+     Oldport looks around at Blinker, with an expression showing
+     more pity than annoyance.
+
+18--Close-up of Blinker.
+
+     Blinker makes a gesture of impatience and shifts in his
+     chair.
+
+19--Ella's room. A few touches indicating the refining influence of
+Florence.
+
+     Ella is getting ready to go out. Florence questions. Ella
+     says, "I got an afternoon date." Then she vents her
+     annoyance at the owner of the buildings by saying:
+
+_Cut-in-leader--_
+
+     "THE DUB THAT OWNS THIS DUST-BIN IS SO MEAN THAT HE RENTS
+     THE PARLORS--SO US GIRLS HAS GOT TO MEET OUR GENTLEMEN
+     FRIENDS SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE--WE CAN'T ENTERTAIN IN OUR ROOMS,
+     CAN WE?"
+
+     Florence shakes her head, and refuses an invitation to
+     accompany Ella, who goes out.[46]
+
+[Footnote 46: Contrast to Blinker; also forecasts by association of
+ideas the coming together of characters; hints at plot.]
+
+20--Oldport's office.
+
+     Blinker signing papers. Finishing, he rises. Oldport lays a
+     restraining hand on his arm, taking another paper. Blinker
+     shudders in distaste, as Oldport turns and says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "THERE IS A MATTER CONCERNING THE RENTING OF THE PARLORS IN
+     ONE OF YOUR BUILDINGS--YOUR FATHER HAD INTENDED TO REMODEL
+     THEM, SO--"
+
+     Blinker shrugs, and rises, protesting, imploring Oldport to
+     let him get away. Oldport rises, and follows him to door,
+     where he stops him.
+
+21--Close-up door of Oldport office.
+
+     Oldport is serious, almost pleading, as Blinker wheels.
+     Oldport says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "BECAUSE THE PARLORS ARE RENTED AS ROOMS, THE GIRLS, MOSTLY
+     SHOP WORKERS, MUST DO THEIR ENTERTAINING OF
+     MEN--ELSEWHERE--"
+
+     Blinker turns deprecatingly, and says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "DEAR OLD MAN--ANOTHER TIME, _PLEASE_!"
+
+     He hurries out. Oldport frowns with annoyance, then shrugs.
+
+     Diaphragm out.
+
+     Diaphragm in:[47]
+
+[Footnote 47: The close of one incident and beginning of another, no
+leader being required.]
+
+22--Front of hat-shop where Florence is employed.
+
+     Frank, a typical street-flirt, is lounging, watching some
+     girls pass; they laugh and nudge each other; then Florence
+     comes out of shop and Frank, lifting cap, falls into step
+     beside her. Depict innocence on Florence's part--she does
+     not "get his drift."[48]
+
+[Footnote 48: This scene-sequence develops character, with contrast of
+the two leads; also registers that Florence's future conduct is
+influenced by Ella--not voluntary.]
+
+23--Exterior of golf club.
+
+     Blinker arrives in haste, to find friends and players
+     waiting. Emphasize his egotism and self-centeredness as they
+     start off for the golf links.
+
+24--Street in tenement district.
+
+     Frank is keeping up with Florence as she comes on. He takes
+     her arm. She stops dead still. Sudden fear shows in her
+     face. Tearing herself free, she fairly runs from the scene,
+     Frank staring in surprise, and indicating "Holy
+     Mackerel--stuck up little skirt!"
+
+25--Door in Brickdust Row.
+
+     Florence comes hurrying on, looks over her shoulder to be
+     sure she is not followed, and rushes into house.
+
+26--Golf course.
+
+     Blinker tees up and drives. He shows satisfaction as he
+     watches the flight of the ball, then sets off, smiling at
+     his caddie's muttered "Some drive!"
+
+27--Ella's room.
+
+     Florence is coming in. She is panting. Still shaking with
+     fright and mortification, she flings herself across the bed.
+
+28--A street corner.
+
+     Ella is parting from a "gentleman friend" and thanks him for
+     a "swell time," then starts for home as he turns, hat
+     lifted, and goes.
+
+29--Golf course.
+
+     Show Blinker's egotism as he wins match amid plaudits of his
+     friends.
+
+30--Ella's room.
+
+     Florence still on bed as Ella comes in. "What's up, Kid?"
+     Florence explains. Ella laughs, and tells her the lad meant
+     no harm, then rising in denunciation of their environment,
+     she exclaims:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "LORD, KID! A GIRL CAN'T STICK IN THE HOUSE AND BE A DRIED
+     PRUNE WITHOUT NO FRIENDS. IF SHE CAN'T BRING 'EM HOME--SHE
+     HAS TO MEET 'EM WHEREVER SHE FINDS 'EM."
+
+     This is a new idea to Florence, and it impresses her, though
+     she is dubious about it. Finally, reconciling herself, she
+     agrees, saying:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "YES, A GIRL HAS _GOT_ TO HAVE _SOME_ FUN. I GUESS IT'S NO
+     HARM TO LET _NICE_ FELLOWS SPEAK, AND TAKE YOU OUT
+     SOMETIMES."
+
+     Ella assures her that it is no harm. Florence is less
+     dubious.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     DUN, DREARY MONOTONY DRIVES FLORENCE TO THE ONLY
+     ENTERTAINMENT HER ENVIRONMENT PERMITS.
+
+31--A park entrance.
+
+     Florence allows a neat chap who has been flirting to take
+     her arm, and they go off together.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     SOMETIMES THE MOVIES--
+
+32--Outside moving picture house. Night.
+
+     Florence is laughing as she comes on with ANOTHER
+     nice-looking chap who takes her in to see the show.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     SOMETIMES MOONY SPOONING--
+
+33--Park seat near lake. Moon on water for pretty view.
+
+     Florence is allowing a different fellow to sit close and
+     hold her hand. (No inclination to get "fresh.")
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     BUT ALWAYS THE SAME TACTICS, AND EACH TIME WITH A DIFFERENT
+     CAVALIER.[49]
+
+[Footnote 49: Note the progressive series of leaders to emphasize
+Florence's characteristic morality.]
+
+34--Front door, Brickdust Row. Evening.
+
+     Florence comes on, with an impatient swain, but she gives
+     absolutely no indication that this is where she lives, and
+     they pass off.
+
+35--Street corner.
+
+     Florence and companion come on. She says "good night" and
+     refuses to let him go further. When he is gone around the
+     corner she retraces her steps toward home.
+
+     Diaphragm slowly out.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     AH, THE TRIBULATIONS OF BLINKER!
+
+36--Oldport's office.
+
+     Blinker comes in, disgusted. Oldport laughs at him somewhat
+     sardonically as Blinker says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "WILL THOSE PAPERS NEVER BE DONE WITH? WELL--HURRY. I'M
+     PACKED TO START FOR THE NORTH WOODS TONIGHT."
+
+     Oldport grins cheerfully, saying:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "THE WORST HAS NOT BEEN TOLD YOU. THE PAPERS WILL NOT BE
+     READY TILL MONDAY--SO YOU WILL HAVE TO AMUSE YOURSELF FOR A
+     DAY AND A HALF--"
+
+     Blinker flings out, disgusted.
+
+37--Ella's room.
+
+     Florence comes in, in her work-day clothes, and prepares to
+     get out a quite new summer frock.
+
+38--Blinker's apartment.
+
+     Blinker in, and man taking off coat, etc. Summer garb.
+     Blinker disgusted with life. Reads paper. Man
+     obsequious--comedy touch with proffer of numbers of
+     varieties of cigarettes.
+
+39--Ella's room.
+
+     Florence dressed in summer frock. Wonders what to do with
+     herself--plans, counts money--decides and goes out.
+
+40--Apartment.
+
+     Blinker reads "ad." in paper and suddenly says to his man:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "SIMONDS, I'M GOING TO CONEY ISLAND."
+
+     Man bows as if he had said he was going to drown himself.
+     Blinker bids man fetch some cool outing flannels--he acts as
+     if he were preparing to go to be shot, but must face it.
+     Ennui driving him.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     FOR ONCE HOI-POLLOI JOSTLES, BUSTLES AND HARASSES THE
+     ARISTOCRATIC BLINKER.
+
+41--Dock, gangplank.
+
+     Comedy with Blinker in a mob of "kidders" on the way to a
+     Coney Island boat.
+
+42--Deck chair or camp stool, on Coney Island boat.
+
+     Florence is staring out over water. Turns. Sees something.
+
+43--Deck location.
+
+     Blinker coming out of mob--catching hat, effect of tipping
+     it.
+
+44--Deck, wider view.
+
+     Florence affects to be freezing. Blinker notices her, and is
+     abashed.
+
+45--Close-up of Florence.
+
+     Florence freezing, says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "HOW DARE YOU LIFT YOUR HAT TO ME, SIR?"
+
+     Haughty.
+
+46--Close-up of Blinker.
+
+     Blinker stammers:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I DIDN'T--"
+
+     Then starts, admiring.
+
+47--Close-up of Florence.
+
+     Florence freezing, yet eyes twinkle.
+
+48--Wider-angle view.
+
+     Blinker quickly corrects himself by adding:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I DIDN'T SEE HOW I COULD HELP IT--AFTER I _SAW_ YOU."
+
+     She appears mollified. He sits.
+
+49--Closer view, toward water.
+
+     Florence says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I DON'T ALLOW GENTLEMEN TO SIT BESIDE ME TO WHOM I HAVE NOT
+     BEEN INTRODUCED."
+
+     Comedy as Blinker rises, then sits as he sees she is joking.
+     They begin to "get together."
+
+50--Same scene, different angle.
+
+     He asks Florence:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "ARE YOU GOING TO CONEY ISLAND?"
+
+     She comes back at him:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "CAN'T YOU SEE I'M RIDING A BICYCLE UP THE WOOLWORTH TOWER?"
+
+     He is abashed, then gets her idea, and says quite
+     attentively:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I'VE NEVER BEEN TO CONEY. MAYN'T WE SEE IT TOGETHER?"
+
+     She is surprised, then appraises him and temporizes.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     IN DUE COURSE ONE IS DASHED INTO THE WALKS AND AVENUES OF
+     FAIRYLAND GONE INTO VAUDEVILLE.
+
+51--Steeplechase Amusement Park.
+
+     A long view to show the "atmosphere."[50] Florence and
+     Blinker in the crowd.
+
+[Footnote 50: The boat- and amusement-park scenes can only be
+lightly sketched in, as much depends on the director and his
+locations, so skeleton action is given.]
+
+52--Closer view.
+
+     Blinker and Florence. "Tough" with girl. "Tough" blows cigar
+     smoke in Blinker's face. Florence tactfully prevents a
+     "scrap." She can't afford to have cavalier "pinched." Off
+     they go.
+
+53--Some open-air amusement, as "The Whip."
+
+     Blinker and Florence on--he is disgusted. She is aflame with
+     excitement. He looks disgustedly at the amusement, and she,
+     divining--dejectedly--goes off with him.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     FLORENCE IS DIVINELY HAPPY--FOR IS SHE NOT WITH HER
+     MAN--KEEPER OF THE KEYS OF FAIRYLAND?
+
+54--Front of a show.
+
+     Florence in ecstasy. Overcomes chagrin. Goes in with
+     disgusted but subdued Blinker--subdued by a battle royal
+     with the mob around ticket wicket.
+
+55--Inside the show.
+
+     As Blinker helps Florence into a seat, an Italian woman with
+     bunch of candy-sticky kids comes along. In they pile,
+     candying Blinker, who disgustedly hops out, with Florence,
+     somewhat discomfited and provoked at him, following. He
+     backs away, and she after him.
+
+56--Closer view of the two.
+
+     Florence sizing up Blinker--delivers her opinion:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "IF YOU EXPECT TO HAVE ANY FUN, YOU'VE GOT TO JUMP IN AND
+     ACT AS NUTTY AS THE REST OF THEM."
+
+     Blinker is subdued, but hard to convince. Then he looks at
+     the wistfulness of Florence's eyes, and somehow he decides
+     he will try to enter into the spirit of the thing. She sees,
+     is starry-eyed--drags him off, ecstasy in her face.
+
+57--The flying horses.
+
+     Blinker about to get on, with Florence pulling him. They get
+     on. "They're off!"
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     BY THE MAGIC OF FLORENCE'S ENTHUSIASM BLINKER SUDDENLY SEES
+     CONEY ISLAND IN ITS TRUE GUISE.
+
+58--Flash on horse.
+
+     Florence all ecstasy.
+
+59--Another horse--parallel.
+
+     Blinker watching Florence--sudden change to delight.
+
+60--Horses on track in Steeplechase, running parallel.
+
+     The two horses are going away from the camera, and as
+     Blinker turns to smile at Florence, she smiles at him, and--
+
+     The scene interposes into--
+
+61--A rolling open field.
+
+     Taking the place of the Steeplechase horses, we see Florence
+     and Blinker riding at a gallop on real horses, typifying
+     their imagined visualization. The scene interposes back into--
+
+62--Steeplechase horses.
+
+     Blinker laughs merrily at Florence, and both "work" as hard
+     as they can to send the horses faster.[51]
+
+[Footnote 51: The technical "interpose into" and its resultant "back
+into" are technical devices to indicate the merging of one scene into
+another--and the effect here noted, as well as the following one,
+while very significant if well done, must not be taken as models--they
+were specially planned with the knowledge that a director could and
+would secure them adequately. See definition of "Interpose," Chapter
+III.]
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     NO LONGER DOES BLINKER SEE A RABBLE. HE IS AMONG HIS
+     BROTHERS, ALL SEEKING AN IDEAL.
+
+63--Front of tawdry amusement place.
+
+     Blinker is with Florence. As they come up and listen to the
+     "ballyhoo" man--
+
+     The scene interposes into--
+
+64--Front of fairy castle.
+
+     Florence and Blinker as Prince and Princess.
+
+     The scene interposes back into--
+
+65--Front of amusement place.
+
+     Blinker and Florence rush in with crowd, all gay and
+     hilarious.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     SO BLINKER ROLLS UP THE SHIRTSLEEVES OF HIS MIND, AND
+     BECOMES AN IDEALIST TOO.
+
+66--A show (Slide).
+
+     Good comedy to get some people coming down a slide, with
+     Blinker and Florence among them.
+
+67--Bottom of slide.
+
+     Blinker and Florence get out, gay as can be--and as they
+     stroll off, there is a touch of sentiment.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     THE PARTING.
+
+68--Park entrance. Night.
+
+     Blinker and Florence. She stops him. He wants to go on with
+     her, but she says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I MUST LEAVE YOU HERE. I DON'T WANT TO SPOIL THE FAIRYLAND
+     BY SHOWING YOU--'BRICKDUST ROW.'"
+
+     He tries to persuade her. She is firm. Another "date" for
+     tomorrow. Off she goes. He the other way.
+
+69--Room.
+
+     Florence in--lights up. Sits to dream of happy day.
+
+70--Blinker's apartment. Lit up.
+
+     Blinker in to find Simonds waiting. Dismisses man, who might
+     interrupt dream of happy day by proffer of something--comedy
+     chase out, then Blinker back to smoke and smile.
+
+71--Florence's room. Gas-lit.
+
+     Florence rises to remove dress, pauses to look at herself in
+     mirror--girlish vanity.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     WHEN GANG-LEADER MEETS GANG-LEADER--
+
+72--Front of "Brickdust Row." Night.
+
+     Bill sauntering. Pauses to light cigarette. A rival
+     gang-leader comes on. Flash--pistols--bang--other man fires
+     first. Bill wings him and turns.
+
+73--Corner. Night.
+
+     "Cop" hears shooting. Listens to locate it.
+
+74--Front of "Row." Night.
+
+     Bill hides gun in coat. Dodges into door.[52]
+
+[Footnote 52: Here Bill is not introduced by leader, but is allowed to
+characterize himself in action.]
+
+75--Corner. Night.
+
+     "Cop" looking around--sees--
+
+76--Front of "Row." Night.
+
+     Man lying still.
+
+77--Corner. Night.
+
+     "Cop" blows whistle and runs off.
+
+78--Hall. Gas-lit.
+
+     Bill listening. Up the stairs! He may get away!
+
+79--Front row. Night.
+
+     "Cop" and others gather about man. Several "cops" on at a
+     run.
+
+80--Ella's room. Gas-lit.
+
+     Bill looks in doorway. Florence at mirror, about to loosen
+     dress. Turns. Bill comes in. He says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "LISTEN, SIS--A GUY CROAKED ANOTHER FELLOW--A COP THINKS I
+     DONE IT--I DIDN'T--SO HELP ME GOD!"
+
+     He is so pathetic in his fright that she is torn with
+     sympathy.
+
+81--"Cops" before "Brickdust Row." Night.
+
+     "Cops" decide to look in house--go in.
+
+82--Ella's room. Gas-lit.
+
+     Florence moves close to Bill and finds gun. He nods--says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "THAT'S WHY I'M SCARED--IF THEY FIND IT THEY'LL PINCH
+     ME--"[53]
+
+     She nods. Both start, as at a sound.
+
+[Footnote 53: It is, of course, clear to the spectators that he is not
+telling the truth, though not so to Florence.]
+
+83--Hall. Gas-lit.
+
+     "Cop" bounding up the stairs.
+
+84--Ella's room. Gas-lit.
+
+     Bill in terror. Florence sees the abject fear in his eyes,
+     and the tenderness and protective sympathy of her nature are
+     instantly roused. Dropping the gun in a table drawer, and
+     sitting down, she motions Bill to sit opposite, and command
+     himself. She picks up needlework, and proceeds to chat with
+     Bill as unconcernedly as if he were a constant visitor at
+     the place.
+
+85--Outside the door of Ella's room. Gas light in room; dimmer light
+in hall.
+
+     The "cop" comes softly to door, listens, and then pushes
+     door quietly inward.
+
+86--Ella's room. Gas-lit.
+
+     As the police officer opens the door and looks in, Florence
+     is quietly sewing, and Bill is leaning back, at his ease,
+     though it is an effort for him to be unconcerned. He is
+     smoking. The officer hesitates. Hold suspense of situation.
+
+87--Front of "Row." Night.
+
+     Ambulance attendants busy over man. Street crowd being
+     driven away by several policemen.
+
+88--Ella's room. Gas-lit.
+
+     The officer moves forward, his eyes on Bill. Florence does
+     not betray the slightest sign of dismay. She looks at the
+     intruder as much in reproof as in surprise. Her steady look
+     disconcerts the policeman; he shuffles, clears his throat,
+     and explains his search, glancing toward Bill. Florence
+     says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "LIVING IN THE BACK OF THE HOUSE WE DON'T HEAR MUCH--OR MY
+     BROTHER WOULD HAVE GONE DOWN TO SEE WHAT WAS UP."
+
+     Bill takes up the lead she gives by pretending eagerness as
+     to what happened, but the officer, after a hasty look out
+     over the fire escape, turns and hurries from the room. Bill
+     sighs relievedly, and looks at Florence with the same sort
+     of light in his eyes that one sees in those of a faithful
+     dog. This dog-like devotion is to be the developing keynote
+     of Bill's character.
+
+89--Roof of house. Night.
+
+     Policeman comes up on roof, looking around.
+
+90--Ella's room. Gas-lit.
+
+     Bill is thanking Florence. She tells him that she will go
+     down and see whether the coast is clear, and he sits down
+     with a grateful look as she goes quietly out.[54]
+
+[Footnote 54: Compare the present scene and the one following, in
+respect to varying treatment of conveyed information. Here the girl
+merely indicates what she intends to do, and her statement of the fact
+is not given as dialogue-in-scene, since the next scene will make
+clear her unregistered words; but see how dialogue-in-scene is
+employed in the scene that comes next, emphasizing in the briefest way
+just what the player feels by what she thinks and unconsciously forms
+with her lips.]
+
+91--Front of "Row." Night. From the tenement doorway.
+
+     The injured man is being made to stand. Florence comes into
+     the scene, pausing on stoop of the "Row" and watches as the
+     injured party feigns great pain, and gasps:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "HONEST--HE NEAR CROAKED ME. I'M DYIN'--ALL SHOT TO PIECES.
+     AN' THE WORST IS I DIDN'T GIT A CHANST TO SHOOT BACK AT
+     HIM."
+
+     The ambulance men laugh and tell him to be on his way; he is
+     more scared than hurt. Florence's face becomes tense. Her
+     lips form the thought that flashes into her mind. "He
+     lied--to me!" She turns and goes into house.
+
+92--Ella's room. Gas-lit.
+
+     Bill looks up eagerly as Florence comes in. Then he stares
+     as she goes swiftly toward the table drawer. He is quick,
+     but not swift enough, in his rush to forestall her as she
+     gets his revolver and "breaks" it, so that the empty
+     cartridge and five loaded ones drop into her hand.
+
+93--Bust of hand holding discharged cartridge.
+
+     Register the fact that it has been fired.
+
+94--Back to 92.
+
+     Florence looks up slowly. Bill figures that she will give
+     him up now, and gives a quick, hunted look around as
+     Florence closes the weapon and lays it on the table, fully
+     convinced that she has been lied to. She stands looking down
+     at the weapon, her face brooding. Suspense. What will she do
+     about it?
+
+95--Roof of house. Night.
+
+     "Cop," with another. No use looking further. Separate, one
+     going down into tenement again, other across roof toward
+     another descent.
+
+96--Ella's room--looking toward door. Gas-lit.
+
+     Bill in an agony of terror as he hears policeman tramping
+     toward door. Florence looks up, and moves toward Bill, who
+     cowers. The door starts to open. Florence pities Bill now.
+
+97--Ella's room--from hall, through opening door. Gas-lit.
+
+     The policeman is going to be crafty; he opens door, very
+     softly, and as he peers in, he sees--Florence slipping her
+     arms about Bill's neck, giving him a sisterly kiss as she
+     says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "GOODNIGHT, BUDDY. GIVE THE KIDDIES A KISS FROM ME."
+
+     Convinced, the officer draws away and goes from scene. Bill
+     can be seen touching cheek Florence kissed, looking at
+     finger as if expecting it to show the mark of contact.
+
+98--Close-up in room, from another angle, to get Florence in profile.
+
+     Bill slowly and reverently takes Florence's hand, and with
+     devotion in every line, says fervently:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "KID--YOU'RE _CERTAINLY_ WHITE! AND YOU _ARE_ 'LITTLE SIS'
+     TO ME FROM NOW ON!"
+
+     Saying nothing more, but looking at her with devoted eyes,
+     as she stands smiling her gentle smile, he goes to fire
+     escape, and as he descends--Fade slowly out.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     BILL BECOMES THE FAITHFUL WATCHDOG, ASKING ONLY A PAT, AND
+     IS ETERNALLY VIGILANT LEST HARM COME TO THE OBJECT OF HIS
+     DEVOTION.
+
+     Diaphragm in:
+
+99--Park entrance.
+
+     Florence waiting. Bill is coming down path. He sees her and
+     advances--but she meets Blinker, who is gay and delighted.
+     They go.
+
+100--Close-up of Bill.
+
+     No jealousy--but suspicion. Bill thinks such a man can mean
+     no good. He starts off.
+
+101--Wider view.
+
+     Bill seen to be shadowing Blinker and Florence.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     CONVINCED THAT "A GUY" OF BLINKER'S _APPARENT_ AFFLUENCE CAN
+     MEAN NO GOOD TO A "SKIRT LIKE SIS," THE WATCHDOG INVADES
+     FAIRYLAND.
+
+102--Steeplechase Pier.
+
+     Crowd coming off boat. Florence and Blinker. After them,
+     shadowing, comes Bill.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     THIS TIME, THERE IS NO TIME LOST BY THE INFATUATED BLINKER,
+     IN GETTING INTO THE SPIRIT OF THE REVELRY.
+
+103--Any different amusement device.
+
+     Blinker with Florence--having a grand time. Show Bill aloof
+     but watchful, evading discovery carefully.
+
+_Leader--_
+
+     THE WALKING BEAM OF A CONEY ISLAND BOAT MAKES JUST ENOUGH
+     NOISE TO ENABLE TWO TO CONVERSE COZILY ALOOF FROM THEIR
+     NEIGHBORS.
+
+104--By walking beam.
+
+     Wide enough to show several couples--Florence and Blinker
+     among them; narrows down to those two, after Bill is
+     established in background, watchful but not interfering.
+
+105--Close-up of Blinker.
+
+     Blinker, in spell of love, says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "FLORENCE--I--LOVE YOU!"
+
+     Waits, breathless.
+
+106--Close-up of Florence.
+
+     She laughs a little tremulously but recklessly and says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "THAT'S WHAT THEY ALL SAY."
+
+     She begins to hum.
+
+107--Close-up of Blinker.
+
+     He is a little impatient, and says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I AM RICH. I CAN GIVE YOU MANY THINGS--"
+
+     He is interrupted.[55]
+
+[Footnote 55: Sketchy, because in this case, "O. Henry" leaders are
+the important thing--and they give sufficient clue to the action
+required.]
+
+108--Close-up of Florence.
+
+     She laughs a little, and says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "THAT'S WHAT THEY ALL SAY."
+
+     She is playing with him, and yet telling truth.
+
+109--Close-up of Blinker.
+
+     He is impatient at this repetition. Says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I DON'T LIKE YOU TO KEEP SAYING THAT!"
+
+     He is annoyed. She is not taking him seriously.
+
+110--Close-up of Florence.
+
+     She looks at him--wonders--says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "WHY SHOULDN'T I SAY IT? THEY DO!"
+
+     He is puzzled.
+
+111--Close-up of Blinker.
+
+     Surprised--puzzled--angered--says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "WHO ARE--'THEY'?"
+
+     Jealous and anxious.
+
+112--Close-up of Florence.
+
+     Surprised--innocent. Says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "WHY, THE MEN I MEET."
+
+     What is he driving at?
+
+113--Both--in wider view.
+
+     Florence wondering. He changes expression. Growing tension.
+     Asks her:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "WHERE DO YOU MEET--THESE MEN?"
+
+     She looks wide-eyed--surprised--answers:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I MEET THEM--AS I DID YOU--"
+
+     Blinker aghast. Asks:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "DO YOU KNOW SO MANY?"
+
+     She allows herself a laugh--says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "WELL I'M NOT EXACTLY A WALL FLOWER."
+
+     He turns away.
+
+114--Close-up of Blinker.
+
+     Growing tension--it is sinking in, and finally his
+     expression grows harder.
+
+115--Close-up of Florence.
+
+     She wonders--finally asks:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "WHAT'S WRONG?"
+
+     Her lips part in amazed terror.
+
+116--New angle. Close-up of Blinker.
+
+     Swings upon her and cries:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "EVERYTHING'S WRONG! WHY DON'T YOU SEE THESE--THESE MEN--AT
+     YOUR HOME? IS IT NECESSARY TO MEET EVERY TOM, DICK AND
+     HARRY--OUTSIDE?"
+
+     He is growing furious. So that is the sort she is!
+
+117--Profile close-up of Florence.
+
+     She laughs. Her voice is brassy-hard, saying:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "IF YOU COULD SEE 'BRICKDUST ROW' YOU WOULDN'T ASK THAT. THE
+     FELLOW WHO OWNS IT DOESN'T GIVE US ANY PLACE TO RECEIVE--AND
+     WE CAN'T TAKE FELLOWS TO OUR ROOM--SO--"
+
+     Shrugs.
+
+118--Wider-angle view, with Blinker nearest camera.
+
+     Tension. Big scene as he gets over his horror and disgust
+     and she realizes it, and rising, disillusioned--exactly as
+     he feels that _he_ is disillusioned about _her_--Sudden pause--
+
+119--Deck, _ad lib._
+
+     Fire! Excitement. "Where?"--"What'll we do?"[56]
+
+[Footnote 56: Sketchy, as this sort of material has to depend on boat,
+crowd, director, etc. Continuity only required.]
+
+120--Deck, another part.
+
+     Panic. Woman screams.
+
+121--Walking beam.
+
+     Excited scattering of crowd. Florence turning away--Bill
+     coming forward--Blinker listening. He grabs Florence by arm.
+     She draws away. He compels her to go.
+
+122--Deck.
+
+     Tension. Wild scene.
+
+123--Walking beam.
+
+     Bill follows, crowd intervening, as Blinker takes Florence
+     off. Bill gets after them.
+
+124--Boat davits.
+
+     Wild scene. Officer. Sailors. Fire and smoke. Blinker with
+     Florence. Takes her away--another boat!
+
+125--Another boat.
+
+     Crowd more orderly. Women being helped into boat. Blinker
+     on with Florence. Takes her to boat.
+
+126--Boat davits.
+
+     Sailors shot at by officer. Surge away and off.
+
+127--Fire blazing. Sailors lose heads--dash back from fire and
+toward--
+
+128--Other boat.
+
+     Fire coming. Florence by boat. Sailors rush on and fight.
+     Get officer's gun. Surround Florence and Blinker.
+
+129--Different angle.
+
+     Blinker fighting to save Florence.
+
+130--Different view.
+
+     Fire coming on. Bill fighting way toward Blinker and
+     Florence.
+
+131--Other boat.
+
+     Blinker fighting. Florence separated from him. Bill fights
+     way to his side. They notice one another as men with same
+     idea--join back to back. Florence forced away. They try to
+     get to her. Surge of sailors over-runs them.[57]
+
+[Footnote 57: Necessary departure from O. Henry, to build up Blinker's
+good qualities, and achieve a preparation for new finish.]
+
+132--Deck rail.
+
+     Florence staggers on. Flames coming. Great God! What shall
+     she do? Off she races.
+
+133--Boat davits.
+
+     Flames leaping. Florence just in time to see boat lowered
+     away. Too late. Driven back.
+
+134--Other boat.
+
+     Bill and Blinker together. Several sailors done for, others
+     lower boat and go. Men peer about, but smoke too thick for
+     them to see.
+
+135--Rail.
+
+     Florence in terror. Sudden blast of flame. On rail. Leaps.
+
+     Diaphragm out.[58]
+
+     Diaphragm in:
+
+[Footnote 58: Purposely uncompleted to give suspense strength to hold
+over into next--slowing--episode.]
+
+136--Blinker's apartment.
+
+     Man caring for Blinker, somewhat burned. Sad and downcast.
+     Man admits Oldport. Lawyer listens to story.
+
+137--Hospital entry.
+
+     Bill comes out, discharged--head bandaged. He takes a card
+     out of pocket--looks and puts back. He does not know what to
+     do, then decides, and goes off.[59]
+
+[Footnote 59: Observe how girl's fate is withheld till disposition of
+less important characters is shown.]
+
+138--Ella's room.
+
+     Florence in bed. Ella attending. Bill knocks, is admitted.
+
+139--Blinker's apartment.
+
+     Oldport sees Blinker is able to talk business. He assumes
+     quizzical air, says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "MAYBE I CAN KEEP YOU HERE LONG ENOUGH TO TAKE UP THAT
+     DEFERRED MATTER--"
+
+     Blinker wearily assents. Oldport begins:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "YOUR FATHER INTENDED THAT THE PARLORS OF CERTAIN BUILDINGS
+     SHOULD BE USED BY THE GIRL-TENANTS AS PLACES WHEREIN TO
+     ENTERTAIN THEIR MALE CALLERS."
+
+     Blinker gives start of surprise--query--agony--cries out:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "'BRICKDUST ROW,' FOR A MILLION!"
+
+     Oldport smiles:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I BELIEVE THE GIRLS HAVE SOME SUCH NICKNAME FOR IT. WHAT
+     SHALL I DO?"
+
+     Horrible! Blinker in spasm of anguish:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "BURN IT! RAZE IT! DO WHAT YOU LIKE--BUT I TELL YOU--IT'S
+     TOO LATE, MAN--IT'S TOO LATE!--"
+
+     He flings away.
+
+140--Ella's room.
+
+     Bill chatting with Ella. Seems to have good feeling for
+     her--devouring hot-cake she has made as he talks with
+     Florence, who is sitting up. He takes out card, says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "THAT GUY YOU WAS WID--IS HE ON THE SQUARE?--HE AST ME TO
+     CALL ON HIM--"
+
+     Florence suddenly recalls all that has happened. She turns
+     her face away, unable to control tears of despondency.
+
+141--Blinker's apartment.
+
+     Oldport goes. Blinker "chases" his man, sits in bad mood,
+     sour and lovelorn by turns.
+
+142--Ella's room.
+
+     Bill dismayed--demands what he has said. Florence sits
+     up--controls herself. Says, gently:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "HE--HE ISN'T GOING TO--SEE ME ANY MORE--I GUESS."
+
+     Bill is all anger--"Why?" She tells him:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I DON'T THINK--OUR--WAYS OF LIVING--"
+
+     She breaks down.
+
+143--Close-up of Bill.
+
+     "The son of a brat!"--so he has chucked "Little Sis" has he,
+     the rich piker? Well, Bill can see about that! Of course he
+     thinks the worst of Blinker.
+
+144--Wider-angle view.
+
+     Bill rises and tiptoes out. Florence weeping softly with
+     Ella comforting--rough yet tender.
+
+145--Blinker's apartment.
+
+     Man admits Bill and is dismissed. Blinker hearty--then sees
+     Bill's anger. Rises. Big scene where Bill denounces him,
+     saying:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "YOU GOT TO BE SQUARE WITH THAT KID!"
+
+     Blinker misunderstands. Bill comes near to throttling him,
+     before Blinker can gasp:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND--IT WAS ONLY A DIFFERENCE
+     OF--OPINION--"
+
+     Bill waits to find out. Blinker hesitates, then, seeing
+     threat, begins to explain.
+
+146--Ella's room.
+
+     Florence seems to be asleep, and Ella sneaks off for some
+     milk or something. Florence gets up, sad and despondent.
+     Slowly begins to dress.
+
+147--Blinker's apartment.
+
+     Bill amazed at Blinker, who ends up:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "IT'S A QUESTION OF ETHICS--"
+
+     Bill glowers and snaps:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "ETHICS BE DAMNED! IT'S A QUESTION OF--ARE YOU GOIN' TUH
+     BLAME HER FOR THE VERY THING YOU MADE HER DO?"
+
+     Blinker begins to consider.
+
+148--Ella's room.
+
+     Florence dressing (suspense: Does she recall that revolver
+     and want to add her tragedy to the dreary ones of "Brickdust
+     Row?")
+
+149--Blinker's apartment.
+
+     Big realization--"All my fault." Blinker goes off with Bill.
+
+150--Ella's room.
+
+     Ella soothing Florence. Latter does not wish to live. All
+     life is black before her.
+
+151--Hall outside door.
+
+     Comedy relief as Bill and Blinker come on and latter draws
+     back in a natural suspense as to his reception and Bill
+     tells him to "beat it on in!" Blinker knocks, and goes in.
+     Bill pauses.
+
+152--Ella's room.
+
+     Florence looks up. Ella surprised. Blinker pauses. Ella
+     seems to be attracted by something.
+
+153--Crack of open door.
+
+     Bill is making violent gestures to get Ella out.
+
+154--Ella's room.
+
+     Ella catches Bill's idea, and moves unostentatiously out.
+     Then Blinker strides to Florence. He says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "IT'S ALL WRONG. I'VE COME TO SQUARE IT."
+
+     Florence is reserved, chilly, as she says:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "YOU MEAN--ABOUT THE PARLORS?"
+
+     Blinker is beside her, and catching her hands he cries:
+
+_Cut-in leader--_
+
+     "I MEAN--ABOUT _YOU_!--AND _ME_!"
+
+     In spite of herself, Florence is forced to lift her eyes,
+     and as she reads the look in his own she is compelled to
+     realize that the air is cleared at last and that the
+     happiness that seemed dead is again alive--palpitant
+     happiness that draws her into his ready arms.
+
+155--Hall outside Ella's room.
+
+     Bill "fixes it up" with Ella to "travel double." She wants
+     to rush in and tell her chum, but Bill stays her: "Nix--let
+     'em do some clinchin' first!"
+
+156--Ella's room.
+
+     Florence and Blinker embracing.
+
+     Circle diaphragm closes to blackness.[60]
+
+[Footnote 60: This is the script before it reached production. If you
+see the picture you will no doubt observe directorial alterations that
+came up during production. In that case you will have valuable
+experience in seeing the difference between the original--the
+script-writer's conception--and the directorial interpretation.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+MARKETING THE PHOTOPLAY SCRIPT
+
+
+Writing the photoplay is essentially an art; marketing the photoplay
+script is a business; and the sooner the writer adopts intelligent,
+up-to-date business methods in offering his stories, the sooner he is
+likely to find the checks coming in. It is not enough merely to send
+out your script; it must be sent to that editor who is in the market
+for the kind of script you have written. As one editor has said,
+"Don't send a Biblical photoplay to a firm that makes a specialty of
+Indian and cowboy subjects."
+
+Your first care, then, should be to have as complete a knowledge as
+possible of what every company is doing, what kinds of stories they
+need at the time, where their field-companies are working, and, above
+all, what kinds of scripts certain companies positively do _not_ want
+at _any_ time. For of course, there are companies with definitely
+fixed policies, besides concerns that announce from time to time that
+they are unable to use stories of this or that sort.
+
+The most important aids to a thorough knowledge of the photoplay
+market are the different moving-picture trade-journals and the
+magazines published exclusively for writers.[61] By studying them you
+will equip yourself with a first-hand knowledge of what the different
+studio editors need, and so be on the right road. Don't take a
+gambler's chance by sending out your scripts without knowing precisely
+what is a good prospect.
+
+[Footnote 61: See Chapter XIV.]
+
+In almost every one of the foregoing chapters we have raised points
+that bear upon the selling of your story as well as affect the
+particular part of the script then being discussed. To repeat one
+instance, you were advised not only to satisfy yourself that a company
+is in the market for society stories, but to look into the nature of
+the stock-company producing their plays. If the company you select is
+one that features a woman in most of its picture-stories, and yours is
+a photoplay with a strong male lead, you would be unwise to submit it
+there. True, it might be accepted and one of the studio writers
+commissioned to rewrite it in order to give the "fat" part to the
+leading woman, but your check would be proportionately smaller to
+compensate for the rewriting--you would, in fact, be paid little more
+than if you had sold the bare idea.
+
+In submitting your script to a given company, do not address it to
+individuals, unless there is a very good reason for so doing--and
+there seldom is. Address your letter either to the "Editor, Blank Film
+Company," or to the "Manuscript Department." Most useless of all is
+the practice of sending to some person who is known to be associated
+with a certain company, without knowing just what his position is.
+
+Once the photoplaywright has begun to sell his scripts, he will
+usually prefer to do his own marketing. If, he argues, he is able to
+write salable photoplays, why should he share his checks with authors'
+agents or photoplay clearing houses? Yet many writers find an agency
+to be advantageous. But you had better take the advice of an
+experienced friend before committing your work to an intermediary--not
+all are capable and not all are honest.
+
+One thing the writer should remember: _Send a script to only one firm
+at a time._ There is one company at least, and there may be more,
+which announces that no carbon copies of scripts will be considered.
+The implication, of course, is that they are afraid to pass on carbon
+copies for fear that at the time they are looking over a script it may
+have been already purchased by some other company. If you _do_ send
+out a carbon copy of your script, make it plain to the editor in your
+accompanying letter that the original script has gone astray or been
+destroyed, and you are sending the carbon in its place for that
+reason. But why send a carbon script at all? If you think enough of
+your work to want to see it well-dressed, make a clean, fresh copy and
+take no risks.
+
+It is literally true that many an author has spoiled his chances of
+ever selling to certain companies because he sold a story to a second
+company before making certain that it had been rejected by the first
+to which it was sent. Imagine the complication of receiving a check
+from B shortly after the author has had word that A has purchased the
+same story!
+
+A manuscript should _never_ be rolled--it irritates a busy editor to
+have to straighten out a persistently curling package of manuscript.
+
+The sheets should not be permanently fastened together. It is simple
+diplomacy to make the reading of your script an agreeable task instead
+of an annoyance.
+
+Do not fold an 8-1/2 x 11-inch sheet of paper more than twice. Fold it
+but once, or else make two even folds and the script will be in proper
+form to fit the legal-sized envelope. Heavy manilla envelopes are the
+strongest, but we have never had cause to complain of the white,
+stamped envelopes to be had at any post-office. If you choose to use
+these, ask for sizes 8 and 9. Your script, folded twice, will fit
+snugly into the size 8, which is to be the self-addressed return
+envelope. Do _not_ put your MS. in the return envelope. In enclosing
+the smaller envelope, turn it with the open side down, so as to avoid
+having the flap cut when the outer envelope is opened with a paper
+knife.
+
+Attach the full amount of postage to _both_ envelopes; never enclose
+loose stamps--and _never_ forget to stamp the inner envelope if you
+wish to get your manuscript back in case of rejection. At this writing
+(February, 1919), a three-cent stamp will bring it back to you, but
+you will have to pay whatever else is due before receiving the letter;
+and if the story sells, and you receive nothing but the check, you
+will have the satisfaction of knowing that you have not been stingily
+economical in sending it out.
+
+See that your name and address are on the upper left-hand corner of
+the going envelope; be sure, too, that the return envelope is properly
+self-addressed.
+
+We should not advise the young writer to put the price demanded for
+his script in the upper right-hand corner of the first sheet, though
+this is where it should go if he does wish to stipulate the amount for
+which he will sell it. It is very much better simply to write:
+"Submitted at usual rates." Even after you have sold to a given
+company, it is better, as a rule, to leave the matter of payment to
+the editor. You may be sure that he will pay you just as much as your
+story is worth, being governed only by the price-limit fixed by the
+manufacturer. Today, almost every manufacturer realizes that the day
+of getting "something for nothing" is past. In other words, he
+realizes that the script--the story--is the very keystone of the
+photoplay arch, and if the story is purchased from a free-lance
+writer, he must be prepared to pay a fair price for it.
+
+It is impossible, in a work of this kind, to say what certain
+companies are in the habit of paying, but it may roughly be said that
+the minimum price _per reel_ today is $50. Most of the larger
+producing companies are glad to pay a minimum of $100 per reel for
+satisfactory material, and $1,000 for a five-reel script--or even for
+a five-reel story in synopsis form, if that is the company's
+policy--is regularly paid by those who are entitled to be called "the
+leading producers." Most companies have a fixed, uniform price-scale;
+and it would be silly for any one to say that you will be paid a
+certain amount for your story "if it suits them." We have in mind a
+certain large company that is in the habit of paying $1,000 for all
+the five-reel synopses it purchases. If your story is not what this
+company wants, of course it will not be purchased at all. If your
+story does suit them, you may be certain of receiving a check for
+$1,000 at least--and we say "at least" because they have been known to
+pay still higher prices if the story is really unusual and hence
+especially valuable to them. This same company--as do nearly all
+concerns--frequently pays a price greatly exceeding $1,000 for the
+work of authors with "big names," because, of course, the value of the
+big name is not to be denied.
+
+Experience alone will teach you which companies pay the best prices;
+after you have sold several scripts, and have become acquainted with
+the price-scale of different studios, you will, if the play suits that
+particular market, naturally offer your material first to the company
+that has paid you best. But just as soon as a script comes back from
+one company--so long as you feel certain that it is not in your power
+to improve it before letting it go out again--send it out to another,
+and then to another, until it is either accepted or so worn or soiled
+that it is politic to recopy it. And don't wait too long to do this
+simple act of justice to your brain-child. Whatever you do, don't stop
+with three or four rejections--keep at it until you are _sure_ the
+market is exhausted. But be certain to review your script for possible
+improvements each time it comes back to you.
+
+Keep up your output. Do not write one story, send it out, and then
+wait patiently for its return, or for the editor's check. Plan a new
+story, write it, and send it out. Then plan another and follow the
+same course. Photoplay marketing is a business, and a business man is
+usually "on the job" six days a week.
+
+It is best not to write a letter to the editor, to accompany your
+script, unless there is a very special reason for so doing. Nor should
+the writer rush a letter of inquiry off in case he does not hear from
+the editor within a week or two after submitting his story. Delay may
+be a hopeful sign. If you hear nothing in two months it is time enough
+to write--briefly and courteously. Nearly all companies, however, will
+report well within that period.
+
+It is utterly impossible in a work of this nature to include a list of
+the requirements of every photoplay editor. The policy of the
+manufacturers is always subject to change. Their requirements are
+governed by the number of scripts of each kind they have on hand, the
+disposal of their field-companies, the season of the year, the ability
+of their directors to turn out the various kinds of pictures, and also
+by individual preferences.
+
+The way to keep posted on the current needs of the various companies
+is to study on the screen the pictures of the different producing
+firms; to read in the trade-journals the synopses of all the releases
+that you do not have the opportunity of witnessing; and to keep in
+touch with the announcements made by the manufacturers themselves in
+the weekly and monthly journals mentioned in Chapter XIV.
+
+"Where and How to Sell Manuscripts," by William B. McCourtie, issued
+by the publishers of this book ($2.50), contains a frequently revised
+list of over 5,000 markets for literary material of all sorts,
+including photoplays.
+
+Keep a record of every script you send out. Here is one simple form
+for a manuscript book or card index:
+
+---------------------------------------------------------------
+Title | Sent to | Returned from | Date | Sold to | Date | Price
+      |         |               |      |         |      |
+      |         |               |      |         |      |
+      |         |               |      |         |      |
+
+
+Do not let the printed rejection slip humiliate you. Really great
+writers get them, constantly. This statement is equally true of both
+fiction and photoplay writing. It would take too much time and money
+for an editorial staff to write personal letters to all who offer
+unsolicited manuscript.
+
+Never write petulant or sarcastic letters when your offerings are
+rejected. You may need the good-will of that editor some day. Although
+personal pique seldom actuates him, he may be frail enough to be
+annoyed when his well-meant efforts are assailed.
+
+In conclusion, we urge the writer to remember the words of Dr.
+Johnson:
+
+"All the performances of human art at which we look with praise or
+wonder are instances of the resistless force of perseverance; it is by
+this that the quarry becomes a pyramid, and that distant countries are
+united with canals."
+
+
+
+
+_APPENDICES_
+
+
+APPENDIX A
+
+SOME BOOKS DEALING WITH PLOT IN FICTION
+
+1. MOULTON, RICHARD G.; _Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist_, Oxford
+Press, New York, 1885.
+
+2. PRICE, WILLIAM T.; _Technique of the Drama_, Brentano, New York,
+1892.
+
+3. BARRETT, CHARLES RAYMOND; _Short Story Writing_, Baker & Taylor,
+New York, 1900.
+
+4. PERRY, BLISS; _A Study of Prose Fiction_, Houghton, Mifflin,
+Boston, 1902.
+
+5. ALBRIGHT, EVELYN MAY; _The Short-Story_, Macmillan, New York, 1907.
+
+6. HAMILTON, CLAYTON; _Materials and Methods of Fiction_, Baker &
+Taylor, New York, 1908.
+
+7. ESENWEIN, J. BERG; _Writing the Short-Story_, Home Correspondence
+School, Springfield, Mass., 1909 and 1918.
+
+8. PHILLIPS, HENRY ALBERT; _The Plot of the Short-Story_. Out of
+print. See any large library.
+
+9. PITKIN, WALTER B.; _The Art and the Business of Story Writing_,
+Macmillan, 1912.
+
+10. ESENWEIN, J. BERG, and CHAMBERS, MARY B.; _The Art of Story
+Writing_, Home Correspondence School, 1913.
+
+11. WELLS, CAROLYN; _The Technique of the Mystery Story_, Home
+Correspondence School, 1913.
+
+12. NEAL, ROBERT WILSON; _Short Stories in the Making_, Oxford
+University Press, New York, 1914.
+
+13. NOTESTEIN, LUCY LILIAN, and DUNN, WALDO HILARY; _The Modern
+Short-Story_, Barnes, New York, 1914.
+
+14. PHILLIPS, HENRY ALBERT; _Universal Plot Catalogue_,
+Stanhope-Dodge, 1915.
+
+15. PAIN, BARRY; _The Short Story_, Doran, New York, 1916.
+
+16. BAKER, HARRY T.; _The Contemporary Short Story_, Heath, Boston,
+1916.
+
+17. WILLIAMS, BLANCHE COLTON; _A Handbook on Story Writing_, Dodd,
+Mead, New York, 1917.
+
+
+APPENDIX B
+
+ESPECIALLY HELPFUL BOOKS ON PHOTOPLAY WRITING
+
+1. SARGENT, EPES WINTHROP; _The Technique of the Photoplay_, Moving
+Picture World, New York, 1913. Third edition, 1917.
+
+2. PHILLIPS, HENRY ALBERT; _The Photodrama_, Stanhope-Dodge Co.,
+Larchmont, N.Y., 1914.
+
+3. POWELL, A. VAN BUREN; _The Photoplay Synopsis_, Home Correspondence
+School, Springfield, Mass., 1919.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+Names of authors and companies are printed in capitals; titles, and
+names of magazines, are printed in italics; and other topics are set
+in plain, or "Roman" type.
+
+
+A
+
+Action, 3, 4, 30, 134-141, 313, 314.
+
+_Adrift_, 294.
+
+_Adventure_, 305.
+
+_After Fifty Years_, 360.
+
+ALBRIGHT, EVELYN MAY, 74, 87, 90.
+
+AMBROSIO COMPANY, 360.
+
+AMERICAN COMPANY, 92, 268, 290.
+
+Animals, 278, 279.
+
+_Annie Crawls Upstairs_, 358-360.
+
+ARTCRAFT, 79.
+
+
+B
+
+Backgrounds, 201.
+
+BALZAC, 348.
+
+BARRETT, CHARLES RAYMOND, 28, 74.
+
+_Bells, The_, 317-320.
+
+BIOGRAPH, 153, 155, 156, 201.
+
+_Blue Book, The_, 355.
+
+_Bookman, The_, 356.
+
+_Bottle Imp, The_, 361.
+
+BREWSTER, EUGENE V., 264, 265.
+
+_Brickdust Row_, 363, 365.
+
+_Bringing Up Father_, 343.
+
+BROWNING, ROBERT, 358-360.
+
+Burlesque, 325, 326.
+
+BUSH, W. STEPHEN, 282, 283.
+
+Bust, The, 17, 18, 163-166.
+
+BYRNE BROTHERS, 326.
+
+
+C
+
+CABANNE, WILLIAM CHRISTY, 252.
+
+Camera, 18.
+
+Cameraman, 18.
+
+Camera tricks, 181-185.
+
+_Cask of Amontillado, The_, 348-350.
+
+Cast, 18, 31, 32, 37, 109-130, 370.
+
+Censorship, 282-289, 341.
+
+Center of interest, 141-143.
+
+Changes of scene, 144-161.
+
+Characters, 18, 109-130, 140, 142, 315, 316, 337, 338.
+
+Child actors, 279, 288.
+
+_Class Reunion, The_, 353.
+
+_Cleopatsy_, 342.
+
+Climax, 26, 194.
+
+Close-up, 18, 166-176.
+
+COFFEY, ROBERT E., 297.
+
+COHAN, GEORGE, 289.
+
+COLLINS, WILKIE, 305.
+
+Comedy Photoplays, 2, 83, 84, 324-346.
+
+_Coming Nation, The_, 292, 293.
+
+Complication, 89.
+
+Conciseness, 198, 199.
+
+Continuity: See "Scenario."
+
+COOPER, FREDERICK TABER, 356.
+
+Cooper-Hewitt lights, 247.
+
+_Cord of Life, The_, 155, 156.
+
+Costume plays, 280.
+
+_Count of Monte Cristo, The_, 189, 190.
+
+COWELL, HARRY, 75, 77.
+
+Crime in photoplays, 284, 285.
+
+Cut-back, 19, 152-157.
+
+Cut-in, 19, 158-161, 233-237.
+
+Cutting, 19.
+
+
+D
+
+_Daphne and the Pirates_, 253.
+
+Denouement, 89.
+
+_Devil Stone, The_, 236, 237, 321.
+
+Dialogue, 3, 200, 201.
+
+Diaphragm, 19, 20.
+
+Diaphragming-in and -out: See "Fade-in," and "Fade-out."
+
+DICKENS, CHARLES, 185-187.
+
+Director, 20, 115, 116, 212-214.
+
+Doing a picture, 20.
+
+Double exposure, 20, 185-188.
+
+DOYLE, A. CONAN, 348-351, 354.
+
+_Dramatic Mirror, The_, 140, 263, 357.
+
+Dramatic photoplay, The, 2.
+
+Dreams, 176-181.
+
+DREW, JOHN, 333.
+
+DREW, MR. AND MRS. SIDNEY, 329, 333-335.
+
+Dual-character films, 185-188.
+
+_Duchess at Prayer, The_, 348.
+
+DUMAS, ALEXANDER, 189.
+
+
+E
+
+_Eagle's Eye, The_, 181-183, 196, 274.
+
+EDISON, 3, 78, 111, 172, 275, 297, 358-360.
+
+_Editing a Motion Picture_, 227.
+
+Editor, 20, 84, 85.
+
+Educational films, 2, 3.
+
+"EDWARDS, JOHN MILTON," 82.
+
+_Eight Bells_, 326.
+
+Episode, 194.
+
+ESSANAY, 77.
+
+_Everybody's Girl_, 363-407.
+
+Expense of production, 268-281.
+
+Exteriors, 20, 248, 249.
+
+Extras, 21.
+
+Extravaganza, 326.
+
+
+F
+
+Fade in, 21.
+
+Fade out, 21.
+
+FAIRBANKS, DOUGLAS, 2, 102.
+
+"Faked" scenes, 269-272.
+
+FAMOUS PLAYERS, 189, 190.
+
+Farce, 2, 324, 325.
+
+FARNUM, WILLIAM, 186.
+
+Feature photoplays, 24, 188-193.
+
+_Fiction Factory, The_, 82.
+
+Fiction writing an aid to photoplay writing, 5-16.
+
+_Figaro, Paris_, 308, 309.
+
+FILDEW, WILLIAM E., 252, 253.
+
+Film, 21, 22.
+
+FINE ARTS, 253.
+
+FISHER, "BUD," 343.
+
+Footage, 22.
+
+Fox, 186-188.
+
+Frame, 22.
+
+FROHMAN, DANIEL, 304.
+
+
+G
+
+GOLDWYN, 85.
+
+_Grande Breteche, La_, 348.
+
+GREEN, ANNA KATHERINE, 138.
+
+GRIFFITH, D.W., 153, 157, 167, 226, 336.
+
+
+H
+
+Hackneyed themes, 296-300.
+
+HALEVY, LUDOVIC, 307.
+
+_Hamlet_, 325, 326.
+
+HARRISON, LOUIS REEVES, 91, 293.
+
+HAZARD, FLOYD HAMILTON, 304, 322.
+
+HAZLITT, WILLIAM, 338.
+
+Heart-interest, 293, 305.
+
+_Hearts of the World_, 157.
+
+"HENRY, O.," 201, 351, 352, 363.
+
+HOADLEY, C.B., 132, 149.
+
+HOAGLAND, HERBERT CASE, 134, 138, 301, 322, 356.
+
+HOFFMAN, ARTHUR S., 305, 306.
+
+_How to Write a Photoplay_, 134, 301, 356.
+
+Human interest, 305, 306.
+
+Humor: See "Comedy."
+
+
+I
+
+Idea, 22.
+
+_In the Country God Forgot_, 82.
+
+_Incendiary Foreman, The_, 273.
+
+Insert, 22, 157-161, 218-244.
+
+Interest centralized, 141-143.
+
+Interpose, 22, 387.
+
+_Intolerance_, 167, 168.
+
+IRVING, SIR HENRY, 317.
+
+IRWIN, MAY, 325.
+
+
+J
+
+JACOBS, W.W., 355.
+
+JOHNSON, SAMUEL, 415.
+
+
+K
+
+_Kaiser, The_, 127.
+
+KALEM, 132.
+
+KATTERJOHN, MONTE M., 302.
+
+KEENAN, FRANK, 320.
+
+KEYSTONE COMEDY, 329.
+
+
+L
+
+LANG, PHIL, 132, 133.
+
+Leaders, 4, 22, 157-161, 218-244.
+
+_Leavenworth Case, The_, 138.
+
+Letters, 237-242.
+
+Lighting, 247-249, 280, 281.
+
+_Little Stone God, The_, 355.
+
+Location, 22, 23, 166.
+
+LUBIN, 78.
+
+
+M
+
+_Macbeth_, 282, 318.
+
+MACGRATH, HAROLD, 301, 302.
+
+MCMANUS, GEORGE, 343.
+
+_Magazine Maker, The_, 75, 77.
+
+Manuscript record, 415.
+
+Marketing the photoplay, 408-415.
+
+Mask, 161-163.
+
+MAUDE, CYRIL, 333.
+
+MAUPASSANT, GUY DE, 351.
+
+Memories, 176-181.
+
+MERWIN, BANNISTER, 172-175, 192, 197, 297.
+
+METRO, 333.
+
+_Monkey's Paw, The_, 355.
+
+MOORE, JOHN ROBERT, 361, 362.
+
+_Mortmain_, 184, 185.
+
+_Motion Picture Classic_, 263.
+
+_Motion Picture Magazine_, 263, 264.
+
+_Motion Picture News_, 263, 336.
+
+_Motion Picture Story, The_, 242.
+
+Motivation, 88.
+
+_Motography_, 263.
+
+_Moving Picture Stories_, 15, 264.
+
+_Moving Picture World, The_, 29, 91, 103, 120-122, 132, 133, 174,
+227, 231, 252, 253, 263, 282, 283, 286, 293, 332, 334, 335.
+
+Multiple reel, 23, 24.
+
+_Murders in the Rue Morgue, The_, 361.
+
+_Mutt and Jeff_, 343.
+
+
+N
+
+Names, 120-126.
+
+_Necklace, The_, 351.
+
+Negative, 23.
+
+NEHLS, R.R., 92, 268, 270, 290, 291.
+
+NESTOR, 34.
+
+_New Catacomb, The_, 348-350, 354.
+
+
+O
+
+Objectionable subjects, 282-303.
+
+_Old Musician, The_, 129.
+
+OPPENHEIM, JAMES, 358-360.
+
+Originality, 260-262, 347-362.
+
+Outdoor scenes, 20, 248, 249.
+
+Over-condensation, 199, 223-225.
+
+
+P
+
+Padding, 189.
+
+"Panorams," 168, 235.
+
+PARAMOUNT, 127, 236, 321.
+
+Part, 24.
+
+PATHE, 273, 319, 322, 342.
+
+PHILLIPS, HENRY ALBERT, 87.
+
+Photographing, 208-210.
+
+Photoplay:
+  construction of, defined, 1-4;
+  kinds of, 2;
+  terms, 17-28.
+
+_Photoplay Author, The_: See _The Writer's Monthly_.
+
+_Photoplay Magazine_, 286, 288.
+
+PICKFORD, MARY, 168.
+
+_Picture-Play Magazine_, 263.
+
+_Pierre of the North_, 129.
+
+_Pippa Passes_, 358-360.
+
+Plagiarism, 350-357.
+
+Plot, 7, 8, 16, 23, 30, 87-95, 136, 255-266.
+
+_Plot of the Short Story, The_, 23, 87.
+
+POE, EDGAR ALLAN, 348-350, 361, 362.
+
+Positive, 23.
+
+POWELL, A. VAN BUREN, 363-407.
+
+PREVOST, MARCEL, 308.
+
+PRIBYL, JOHN F., 283-285.
+
+Print, 23.
+
+
+R
+
+Red Cross, 3, 300.
+
+Reel, 24.
+
+REEVE, ARTHUR B., 193.
+
+_Reformation of Calliope, The_, 352.
+
+Register, 24, 25.
+
+Rehearsals, 249, 250.
+
+Release, 25.
+
+
+S
+
+SARGENT, EPES WINTHROP, 29, 77, 103, 107, 120-122, 156, 157, 165,
+172, 175, 228, 242, 250, 290, 305, 332.
+
+Scenario, 19, 25, 29, 32, 37-54, 131-203, 371-407.
+
+Scene, 25, 144-161, 204-217, 231.
+
+Scene-plot, 25, 32, 33, 204-217.
+
+Script, 25, 26;
+  its component parts, 29-33;
+  mechanical preparation of, 55-71.
+
+SEITZ, GEORGE B., 194.
+
+SELIG, 2, 78, 129, 189, 190, 283-285.
+
+Sequence in the action, 135-137.
+
+Serials, 26, 193.
+
+Set, 26, 204-217.
+
+Setting, 26, 166, 204-217.
+
+_Short Story, The_, 74, 87, 90.
+
+_Short-Story Writing_, 28.
+
+Situation, 26, 27.
+
+Split reel: See "Reel."
+
+Stage, 27, 245-254.
+
+Stock people, 27.
+
+Stop-camera work, 176-181.
+
+STORY, WALTER, 283-285.
+
+_Strand Magazine_, 352, 354.
+
+STRINGER, ARTHUR, 184, 185.
+
+Struggle, 89.
+
+Studio, 27.
+
+Subject, 28.
+
+Sub-title: See "Leader."
+
+SULLIVAN, C. GARDNER, 127.
+
+_Sun, New York_, 304.
+
+_Sun, Sand and Solitude_, 82.
+
+_Superba_, 326.
+
+Super-imposure: See "Double exposure."
+
+Suspense, 137-140, 157, 195.
+
+_Swell Miss Fitzwell, The_, 325.
+
+Synopsis, 31, 35-37, 87-109, 365-370.
+
+
+T
+
+_Tale of Two Cities, A_, 185-187.
+
+_Technique of the Photoplay, The_, 165, 242.
+
+THANHOUSER, 272.
+
+Themes, desirable, 304-323;
+  undesirable, 282-303.
+
+_Thirteenth Man, The_, 353.
+
+THOMAS, A.W., 288.
+
+_Three Friends_, 153, 201.
+
+Tinting, 28.
+
+Title, 28, 72-86.
+
+TREMAYNE, W.A., 129.
+
+TRIANGLE, 79, 127.
+
+Trite themes, 296-300.
+
+Typewriting, 59-70.
+
+
+U
+
+UNIVERSAL, 34, 127, 297.
+
+
+V
+
+VERNE, JULES, 311.
+
+Visions, 28, 176-181.
+
+Visualization, 132, 133.
+
+VITAGRAPH, 106, 107, 129, 171, 172, 184, 185, 277, 278, 297, 302,
+350, 363.
+
+
+W
+
+_Wasted Sacrifice, A_, 106, 107, 277, 278, 302.
+
+WEBER, LOIS, 231.
+
+WELLS, ELMER N., 129.
+
+WHARTON, 181-183, 196, 274.
+
+WHARTON, EDITH, 348.
+
+_Without Reward_, 34-54, 208-212.
+
+WOODS, FRANK E., 226, 227, 357.
+
+WRIGHT, WILLIAM LORD, 242, 243.
+
+Writers of photoplays,
+  Previous training of, 5-16.
+
+_Writer's Monthly, The_, 98, 107, 132, 149, 264.
+
+_Writing for the Magazines_, 338-341.
+
+_Writing the Short-Story_, 23, 77, 87, 357.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WRITING THE PHOTOPLAY***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 17903.txt or 17903.zip *******
+
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