Interesting, well-rounded characters with concise do-or-die goals that pit the protagonist against the antagonist is what we strive for as writers.  Our hero needs to stride purposefully toward her goal, as our protagonist marches diligently in the opposite direction, ultimately placing our characters in a head-to-head challenge as solid as Dr. Seuss’ North-Going Zax meeting the South-Going Zax.

Unlike the single-minded Zax however, our characters need to be well-rounded and relatable. Even if we do not like the antagonist, in the best-constructed stories we should be able to empathize with him.  Consider the unlikely example of the comic book film Spider-Man and the antagonist Doc Ock, who begins the film as a friend and mentor to Peter Parker. Later, after his invention kills his wife, Doc Ock fixates on perfecting the contraption no matter what, thus creating an empathetic psychopath and someone with whom we can grieve, while hoping he is defeated by his equal and formidable opponent, the protagonist Spider-Man. 

While conflict can be huge in the form of bombs and destruction, it can also be small yet powerful. Examine your favorite drama or comedy (romantic or not). The ultimate conflict might erupt in a courtroom (My Cousin Vinnie or A Few Good Men), in a workplace (Gattaca, Dave, and American President), or in the neighbor’s living room (A Little Princess). The protagonist is the reluctant hero who finds that he or she must take on the challenge at all costs, even if the challenge is as simple as taking steps toward growing beyond your crippling OCD to help a neighbor and a friend (As Good As It Gets) or deciding to free a friend (E.T.).

In screenwriting, we also have specific parameters that we need to follow as we correctly format our script, since one page of screenplay equals about one minute of film.  I am happy to share with you a formatting document I've created for my students; contact me here if you'd like a copy.

Why write a film treatment? My introductory screenwriting students at the University of New Hampshire might answer: “Because it’s assigned on the syllabus.”

To which I would ask, “But why did I assign it?”

“To give us busy work?” one or more of my more cheeky students might reply.

I don’t assign busy work. At least I hope I don’t. In the case of the treatment, I want to help my young writers think beyond the short scripts of our introductory class as they expand their imaginations to the two-hour cinematic story-telling event. (Writing the feature-length script is a one-semester advanced class, which is offered this fall at UNH at Manchester if you’re in the area and interested; new scriptwriters are also invited to attend this class.)

The treatment tells the screen story in a neat, short package, generally 1 to 25 pages. I submit that shorter is better as I want my students to focus on the core of the story, especially their central characters.

Building from the protagonist with a clear do-or-die goal, and the antagonist who opposes the hero with equal force, I want them to think out the major beats of the story. What happens first? What happens after that? And after that? Who else is involved? These are the general questions they need to answer as they proceed to pen a concise summation of their script story.

When I first learned the technique, treatments were described as a dry capturing of the cinematic events that will eventually take place on the screen. Yet, in culling the net for examples to share with my class, I’ve found that treatments are as varied as the authors who write them.

Therefore, I’d like to suggest a short story approach to treatment writing. “Entertain me!” I beg of my students and of anyone who attempts the treatment. And since short stories are my second favorite form to read (behind screenplays), what better way to fashion a dynamic treatment that leaps off the page?

Grab me not with FADE IN, but with a killer opening line. Fashion it around the reason the story begins today. Often films begin with a wedding or funeral because these are dramatic events that rock the protagonist’s world.

Who is a treatment for? In the case of the dry or step-outline treatment, I’d argue it’s for the writer. Though even this could be used as a sales tool. In this case, the treatment is strictly the spine of the story, or as the Story Merchant writes, “If a screenplay is the blueprint for a film, the treatment is the blueprint for a screenplay.”

While I agree with this logic, I also think that the treatment can be a tool for determining what doesn’t work. In the case of the early treatment for “The Star Wars” (if it is indeed a legit treatment by George Lucas and not just a writerly hoax), one can read how the early treatment differed from the eventual film. In this case the treatment is one in a series of steps toward defining your characters and finding your screen story. (Link thanks to Simply Scripts.)

The treatment can be a selling tool, so why not package it in as entertaining a manner as possible? Again, the short story springs to mind, though if you’re writing the treatment to an epic poem adapted to the screen, you might want to play with cadence and pen your small opus in stanzas.

Why write a film treatment? Because it provides another step toward getting to know your characters and discovering your story. Enjoy the process and write something entertaining. Who knows? You might even get thanked for all your hard work with a movie deal. Or an A.

I'm teaching Media Writing at the University of New Hampshire now. As in right this moment now. We're writing a blog for our proposed business sites as part of this week's quiz.

Each semester the class evolves, but this semester it completely changed. So much so that I am doing the homework with my students. Why? Because I'm teaching from an entirely new book. It focuses on launching a successful small business, and all the social media and internet outreach that involves. 

While my focus is ever on the writing, I am also eager to learn from my students. Each week we explore what we've discovered during the homework phase of reading and completing the exercises at the end of each chapter in Marketing Shortcuts for the Self-Employed by Patrick Schwerdtfeger, a book suggested to me by a colleague. 

The book compliments my students' natural internet abilities, and often highlights my own weaknesses in an online world. "Here's what turns out to be an example of what NOT to do," is a phrase I uttered after studying the chapters on building a perfect website. (I've since redesigned and relaunched my still imperfect site.)

My students seem to appreciate that I am learning alongside them--or I hope they do, anyway. I appreciate that they're willing to do things like brainstorm for each other at a moment's notice. When one student had trouble writing a one-line description for her company, we took it to the board and hashed it out until it was perfect. Today, when another had trouble with the focus of her blog and the site descriptor, we again took it to the board. 

Last week we each sent around a sheet of paper that brainstormed possible blog topics; at the end of the exercise, each of us was surprised to see a valuable list of genuinely great ideas for future blogs. Not only are we learning about each person's business idea, but we're starting to think like the customers we hope to attract. 

My customers--my students--have become my teachers, my inspiration, and my sounding board. I know every semester this is true of any of my classes, but here and now, in this moment, as the last student completes his quiz-assigned blog post, it is especially true. I only hope I can pass their tests, and be the professor they need me to be in order to help them see the possibilities in writing and in business.