You suck. Now fix it.

Like every other aspiring screenwriter with a little know-how, I occasionally get asked to read a friend's script and give them notes. Now we all know I'm not an A-list writer or anything but I do think I'm pretty good at figuring out what's lacking in a script and suggesting ways to fix it. It's a lot like what I do at work.

When I give notes I never make any observations without also giving a suggestion, because "this doesn't work" doesn't help much without "but it could if you put it in the first ten pages."

Sometimes I think you can tell a person's writing experience level by how they handle notes. About a year ago a newbie writer friend gave me a script to read and when I told him it required deep, fundamental changes he shrugged and thanked me and let me know he would be taking none of my suggestions.

Even though I told him he was wasting his effort, he submitted the script to Austin. Surprise! It didn't win anything. Then he gave up writing altogether and moved back home.

Not that I've won anything either, but I do always try to listen to the criticism if I've asked for it and I refuse to submit a script to any producer or contest unless I feel comfortable with the reception it gets from others as well as me.

I have one exception. A few people don't get Game Night. I decided long ago that after making many changes and feeling good about the state of the script I love the story too much to worry about those people who still don't understand. I stuck to my guns on that, but I know why I was sticking to my guns and I'm aware that there will be people who will continue to not get it. If David Lynch can do it, so can I.

And man, don't get me started on Mullholland Drive and the aneurysm it gave me.

Anyway.

Once in a workshop class in college there was a big dude named Elton. I knew he'd be trouble the very first day when the prof had us write down the names of our favorite writers. Elton raised his hand and asked "Can you put yourself?"

Oh lord.

Every time we workshopped one of Elton's stories all he did was argue. We didn't understand his genius, see, and if we only understood we'd see how great the story is. Sometimes he would shout.

Then the professor told Elton we couldn't workshop any more of his stories unless he shut up. So Elton shut up and we finally were able to tell him just how much his stories sucked.

But if nobody tells you your stories suck, how are you ever going to make them not suck?

It's a miserable feeling when you spend all this time and energy and love writing a screenplay that everybody tells you is crap. You cry. You panic. You try to start over but it seems hopeless. You tell yourself you're a lousy writer. You tell yourself they don't know anything.

And that's where you see what you're really made of. Because at that point you have two choices - 1) admit that you're not a genius yet and fix the problem so you can become one or 2) tell yourself they're idiots and they'll be sorry when you sell this brilliant piece for a billion dollars.

If you choose option 2 you have only yourself to blame when you fail.

If you want me to read your screenplay expect me to give you notes. And if you read my notes, expect them to be brutal. I'm not a gentle note-giver. I will tell you what's good, but I will rip that bandaid right off on the bad stuff because I don't have time to worry so much about your feelings when I'm trying to figure out why your script is so boring. And yes, I will use the word "boring".

But I will always give you a suggestion on how to fix it.

That doesn't mean I'm right about everything, but I am right about a lot of things, and if I have a problem with a part of your script I guarantee an agent or producer will too.

Never give me a script expecting me to glow over how wonderful it is. I care about you too much to let you live in denial. And I expect you to burst my bubble all the way in return.

Because I frequently suck, but I'll suck a lot less if somebody points out my suckitude and tells me how to fix it. So buck up and thicken your skin and take the notes like a man. And mix your metaphors if you want to.

But the only way to get awesome is to figure out why you suck first.