SPECIAL EDITION WRITING TIPS

I confess. I have tendencies. I teach ninth graders in my spare time. Many is the occasion where I find myself fantasizing about all the nasty, unpleasant acts of vengeance I could take on the little pipsqueaks for making my life a frequent Hell. Rather than act on those tendencies, I pop in a good horror flick to revel in the carnage. And I find no better provider for buckets of blood than George A. Romero. His Dawn of the Dead is a masterpiece equaled by no other in the history of the gut-munching sub-genre of horror.

But Romero’s films generally have more to offer than bloodletting alone. Night of the Living Dead launched his infamous Dead series with a cynical, pessimistic view of humanity that carried over to three additional films. Dawn of the Dead, the second film of the series, mastered Romero’s equation to a degree not seen in the other efforts. Often called “The Godfather of horror films” by certain critics of more skill and esquire than myself, Dawn of the Dead proves that great storytelling can transcend any genre – even one with more stinkers than a one-bathroom house at a Christmas gathering.

In Anchor Bay’s deluxe package Dawn of the Dead – Ultimate Edition, fans of this film are in for a treat as Romero and myriad others reminisce about their experiences on the set, and the creation of the film as a whole. A 4-disc deluxe package, this release offers multiple commentaries and documentaries the enterprising comic book author – and horror aficionado – can peruse hours after the end credits.

CHARACTERS AREN’T IMPORTANT

One of the first lessons Romero teaches us is that “Characters aren’t important.” At least, not at first. By the time Dawn of the Dead runs its course Romero seems to have betrayed this ideology, giving audiences a rare experience in the horror genre: multiple characters for whom we actually care.

But in the context of Romero’s commentary, this bold statement rings true. Characters aren’t important, especially when they have no direction. “I started with the idea,” Romero says.

The idea of a small group marooned at a shopping mall, where they could find every material convenience under the sun, was a refreshing take, and an obvious path to follow for a sequel to Night. Romero looks at the situation as a fun daydream, but his reasoning goes beyond such simple logic. Wads of social commentary are thrown at unsuspecting viewers, who find them selves in the moment, simply enjoying the splitter-splatter of heads blown to bits. Only after the first experience does the full reality set in – the reality that Romero is making a statement about our consumer culture. One can’t help but wonder if the mindless zombies dragging their bodies back to the Monroeville shopping mall are any different from their living, breathing, mortal versions.

Actually, the materialistic tendencies of our species are explored at three different levels. First, there are the heroes – those people with whom we’d most like to associate. They use what is at their disposal – even enjoy it to a degree – but their first priority is taking care of each other. Next, there are the zombies. They don’t know why they’re coming back to this place, which had been so important to them in their past lives. They know they must get in. They must explore. They must be near the material décor of the shopping center. But they have no clue as to what’s in it for them. Lastly, there are the bikers. That branch of humanity, who with malice and forethought, decide to take what is available at all costs, and with little care for their fellow man. They consume not for survival. They consume for pleasure. And it doesn’t matter who gets in their way.

On simpler terms, Romero’s method represents a bare bones method of story construction, which could serve the aspiring comic book author in a satisfactory way. Why do we start with characters? Why do we do our best to force stories into the commercial superhero context?

Don’t get me wrong. Superheroes are just fine. But, and I’m preaching at myself on this one, why is our first instinct to create a universe, small or large, of superheroes? I struggled with this idea when I first took up comic scripting. I wanted to make it in this industry, so the first thing I did was pound out a story so full of mimicry, you could hear DC’s and Marvel’s lawyers tuning up their word processors for a justifiable cease-and-desist letter.

I didn’t think about telling a story that was real to me. I wanted to tell a story that resembled any other. And I expected people to buy it. If only I had started with Romero’s words of advice, and worked on an idea and a theme – but not just any idea or theme. Something that came from me, and not the pages of some other title.

START THINKING OF WAYS TO KILL PEOPLE

Former Vietnam combat photographer Tom Savini relied heavily on his wartime experiences to create the grisly effects of Romero’s script. But as it turns out, Romero didn’t exactly script much of the on-screen nastiness we see.

Savini tells a brief, but amusing story about the moment he found out Romero would be doing another Dead film. “I got a call from George, and all he said was, ‘Start thinking of ways to kill people.’” That simple command was all Savini’s imagination needed to ignite.

The-screwdriver-to-the-ear is one scene that always sends me reaching for that migraine medication. Also to his credit, Savini gives Dawn a disgusting dose of close-up calf-and-shoulder muscle ripping. Perhaps his greatest contribution is the machete-cleaving-skull scene in the film’s third act.

These ideas, and many others, came long after the script had been written, during the actual production. While Romero had outlined the broad strokes of his film, he left such details to Savini’s discretion, knowing he could trust his collaborator to make the visuals unforgettable. The lesson in this for us is clear. Trust your artist, even if you’re him. The script doesn’t have to be burned in stone by the finger of the Almighty. You have the opportunity to change. If you trust your collaborator, be open to input. If you are a writer-artist, don’t stress if the words feel funny on paper.

Trust your visual instincts.

I couldn’t draw stick figures, but I was blessed in the process of creating Spring River Wild to be associated with a great artist, who went beyond simply drawing my script. Artist Ken Leinaar has made enough visual improvements to my original story that I feel it’s only right to do an even 50/50 split on ownership. Without him, my passion for the story would have died out a long time ago. With him, you can expect SRW by the end of the quarter, as well as a bi-monthly schedule after the initial release.

It’s like that. You have to trust visual instincts, whether they are your own, or someone else’s that you know and trust.

Romero knew enough to surround himself with the right people. He cultivated the collaborative efforts of all his colleagues. Film is a collaborative medium, and comics aren’t much different.

One huge plus of Romero’s outlining method is that he lays the groundwork for the story to move forward, but he leaves out enough details to save some surprises for the writing itself. Once the visuals started falling into place, characters became super-important. And therein lies the final lesson. We can only run from our characterization for so long. First, we must determine what we wish to say. Then, we can devote the rest of our time writing the script to making our players jump off the page. We also leave room to be flexible in each turn of events.

Romero first wanted to end Dawn of the Dead on the same bleak note as Night. But as the film progressed, it became obvious to Romero and crew that this film deserved something more. The original storyboard ending called for the lone female protagonist, as the last remaining survivor, to step out of the helicopter and lean her head into the swirling propeller. Romero and Savini even went as far as making a cast of the actress’s head, which was used instead at the beginning of the film. A little gray paint, and they turned her into a male African-American zombie, who meets with the wrong end of a high-powered rifle during the S.W.A.T. raid. The vibe of the work changed Romero’s thoughts about what was right for the film, and in the end, all agreed, “We did the right thing.”

By remaining flexible on his script, Romero opened many creative doors, which in turn changed his movie from Night of the Living Dead clone to something far superior. The same is possible for us. Heed lessons from great writers and great works.