Writing the Photoplay

by J. Berg Esenwein; Arthur Leeds

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.