As creative people, writers see connections among apparently disparate persons, places, and things that most other people don't. Put together women's rights, Romeo and Juliet, Twelfth Night, secret lovers, and the Queen of England, and you have Shakespeare in Love. Combine postwar Italy, the work of a projectionist, the puritan Catholic Church, unrequited love, the protective guidance of a father figure, and youthful ambition, and Cinema Paradiso comes to life. Mix the wiretapping surveillance of the Iron Curtain, the redemptive universality of music, the desperation of drug abuse, and the steely resolve of an unconquered soul to make The Lives of Others. The examples are endless.
The next time you see something radiant, frightening, or reassuring, or you meet someone intriguing, abhorrent, or refreshing, try connecting them to your script to solve the problem of a weak character, disjointed plot line, or garbled passage.
The next time you see something radiant, frightening, or reassuring, or you meet someone intriguing, abhorrent, or refreshing, try connecting them to your script to solve the problem of a weak character, disjointed plot line, or garbled passage.
