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HOW TO WRITE 
 A PHOTOPLAY 
 
 BY 
 
 HERBERT CA5E HOAGLAND 
 
 OF PATHE FRERES 
 
 MAGAZINE MAKER PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 241 FOURTH AVENUE NEW YORK CITY 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1912, 
 HOMER CROY 
 
 TRANSFI 
 OOPYHI 
 
 3 MH 
 
CHAPTERS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 How Photoplays are Produced 5 
 
 The Bare Idea 13 
 
 What Not to Do 27 
 
 Photoplays that Won't be Accepted. 39 
 
 Hints 44 
 
 Model Scenario 47 
 
 Where to Sell 63 
 
 Note 77 
 
 Always Remember 78 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 <£ 
 How Photoplays are Produced 
 
 SOME sixteen or seventeen years 
 ago, the motion picture, follow- 
 ing close upon the heels of the 
 phonograph, startled the world with 
 animated photographs. At the begin- 
 ning the films were about eighty feet 
 long, flickered until they all but 
 jumped off the screen and incidentally 
 caught the popular fancy with a 
 "strangle hold" which grows tighter 
 every year. 
 
 In the old days the cinematographer 
 produced a picture whenever he had 
 the ideas and, selling as many prints 
 as possible, cast about for weeks look- 
 ing for more ideas. To-day the motion 
 picture makers produce in the United 
 States alone 120 pictures every week. 
 This means 6,240 pictures a year and 
 every picture is a different story in 
 picture form. Of course, the stories 
 are not all fiction; as scientific films 
 of educational value are rapidly com- 
 
ing into demand. But fully four-fifths 
 of all the pictures produced are based 
 on fiction. These stories are called 
 "scenarios." 
 
 To write a photoplay requires no 
 skill as a writer, but it does require 
 a "constructionist." It requires the 
 ability to grasp an idea and graft 
 (please use in the botanical sense) a 
 series of causes on the front end of 
 it and a series of consequences on the 
 other end. An idea so grafted will 
 surely bear fruit; and to learn the art 
 of this sort of mental horticulture it 
 is necessary first to understand, in a 
 general way, how motion pictures are 
 made and what is done in the studio, 
 in the field and in the factory. Let 
 us learn something of these things and 
 begin at the beginning — in the office 
 of the Scenario Editor. 
 
 This man, who will return your 
 scenario if it is incapable of bearing 
 fruit or prune it if that is all it needs, 
 is a combination city editor, dramatic 
 critic, poet, make-up editor, proof 
 reader, rewrite man, stage manager, 
 human encyclopedia and statue of 
 patience, and usually has dyspepsia 
 
and is entitled to your consideration. 
 He receives the manuscripts and 
 must read them all. He must be 
 able to grasp the dramatic possi- 
 bilities of a scenario, see its weak- 
 nesses, know how to strengthen it, 
 must be able to recognize a story lifted 
 bodily or in part from some other 
 photoplay, magazine, play or novel 
 and must have the rare faculty of be- 
 ing just as keen and unbiased at the 
 end of a long day as he is in the morn- 
 ing. Because of the amount of the 
 Editor's work, all scenarios should be 
 typewritten on one side of the paper 
 only, double spaced and sent in flat — 
 not rolled or folded. For the same 
 reason the scenario proper should be 
 preceded by a very short, very clear 
 synopsis of the entire story. 
 
 Presuming the scenario passes this 
 Cerebus at the entrance of the studio, 
 it goes next to the Chief Producer who 
 rereads it and with a blue pencil as a 
 scalpel cuts out the exterior growth 
 which may have been overlooked by 
 our Cerebus. Having done this, it is 
 passed on to the Producer. 
 
 The Producer is to a motion picture 
 
studio what a stage manager is to a 
 theatrical production. They run to 
 specialties. One is a good comedy 
 man, another does his best work in 
 heavy dramatic pieces, still another 
 produces nothing but military pictures, 
 and so on. The Producer, having read 
 the scenario, chooses for the char- 
 acters players who can best portray 
 the people in the play. Then he 
 arranges the scenes in the order in 
 which he wishes them photographed 
 which, by the way, is very different 
 from the sequence in which they ap- 
 pear on the screen. For example: 
 suppose we have a story of a mother 
 forgetting to take her baby out of the 
 department store check-room and go- 
 ing for it the next day; we would have 
 the scenes on the screen arranged as 
 follows : 
 
 1. Interior of House — Mother takes baby, 
 exits. 
 
 2. Exterior of House — Mother appears 
 carrling baby and exits. 
 
 3. Street Scene — Mother passes with baby 
 — Baby in tears. 
 
 4. Exterior of Store — Mother appears and 
 enters Store. 
 
 5. Check-room — Mother checks baby. 
 
 8 
 
6. Mother shopping. 
 
 7. Same as 3. Mother going opposite 
 direction without baby. 
 
 8. Same as 2. Mother enters. 
 
 9. Same as 1. Mothers enters, discovers 
 loss, sees it is too late to get baby, so 
 sits down to supper with husband. 
 
 Subtitle "Next Morning" 
 10, 11, 12 same as 1, 2 and 3. Mother on 
 
 gallop. 
 13, 14 same as 4 and 5. Mother gets child — 
 exits happy. 
 
 Not much of a story, but it serves 
 the purpose! The Producer will take 
 scenes 1, 9 and 10 in the studio in rapid 
 succession. Numbers 5 and 14 will 
 follow, then 6, all in the studio. Then 
 in the street he will produce the other 
 scenes in the following order: 2, 8, 11, 
 3, 7, 12, 4, and 13, and the picture is 
 complete in so far as the Producer is 
 concerned. 
 
 Each scene is a separate little play 
 in which the players must do what the 
 Producer directs in so far as they are 
 able. One or two rehearsals of five 
 minutes each for simple scenes and 
 the picture is taken. In big scenes, 
 however, two or three days are some- 
 times consumed in drilling the players 
 in their various parts, the Producer 
 
 9 
 
often playing each part in turn to 
 show just what he desires. 
 
 The camera man is the Producer's 
 spectacles. He aids the latter in select- 
 ing locations for outdoor scenes and 
 he must be expert in the selection of 
 locations where the light is right for 
 photographic purposes. He must be 
 calm no matter what happens and 
 everlastingly on the job, for if by any 
 chance some accident happens which, 
 though deplorable, will add to the 
 realism, he must constantly turn his 
 camera crank at an unvarying speed 
 and make photos on the speeding film 
 at the rate of sixteen a second. Re- 
 cently when an explosion was to form 
 part of a picture and the charge went 
 off prematurely, injuring six men, did 
 the camera man rush in with any 
 "first aid?" Not he! When the smoke 
 cleared he was discovered nonchal- 
 antly grinding out pictures of the 
 catastrophe which later was to thrill 
 millions of picture fans by its realism. 
 That's what constitutes a good photog- 
 rapher. 
 
 After the actual taking of the pic- 
 tures the undeveloped film is sent to 
 
 10 
 
the factory where it is developed, 
 dried, and wound in a roll. This is 
 the negative. After this it is run 
 through a "printing machine" with 
 another film, the latter unexposed. 
 The printing machine photographs 
 the pictures on the new film which in 
 turn is developed and dried and a 
 positive is the result. This positive 
 is the film used in the theatres. 
 
 Each scene is developed and printed 
 separately and the positives are all 
 joined afterwards in their proper 
 order with title and subtitles in proper 
 place, and there is nothing left for the 
 manufacturer to do but to collect his 
 profits. 
 
 Most manufacturers classify all their 
 films under the following heads: 
 
 Trick, 
 
 Farce, 
 
 Comedy, 
 
 Dramatic Comedy, 
 
 Dramatic, 
 
 Tragic, 
 
 Scenic, 
 
 Industrial, 
 
 Military, 
 
 Historical, 
 
 11 
 
Educational, 
 
 Biblical, 
 
 Micro-Cinematographic. 
 Trick films are those in which the 
 supernatural seems to happen and is 
 done by proper manipulation of the 
 camera. The next five need no ex- 
 planation. Scenics are travelogues; 
 Military explains itself; Historical 
 means a film, the story of which is 
 based on some fact in the published 
 history of the world; Educational are 
 those teaching Botany, Minerology, 
 Zoology, and all the other 'ologies; 
 Biblical of course means Bible Stories 
 and Micro-Cinematographic refers to 
 the highest form of motion picture — 
 the examination of bacilli of various 
 diseases. 
 
 In all these the only classifications 
 in which the reader need be particu- 
 larly interested are Farce, Comedy, 
 Dramatic Comedy, Dramatic, Tragic, 
 Military and Historical. Of these the 
 tragic is the least desired by the film 
 people, while comedy is the most 
 sought after and the most difficult to 
 get. In consequence a good comedy 
 commands the highest price. 
 
 12 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 The Bare Idea 
 
 THE first essential to a scenario is 
 an idea — a peg on which to hang 
 the story. Ideas for photoplays 
 are not difficult for an alert brain to 
 evolve. Life — everyday life — as you 
 see it about you is full of good ideas 
 for films and with practice one can 
 soon learn to grasp the central thought 
 in an incident, strip it of its common- 
 places and with this as a nucleus build 
 a story around it. The idea is the 
 main point in a motion picture and in 
 all that goes before or follows it should 
 never be lost sight of by the scenario 
 writer. 
 
 Given the idea or feature of the 
 story, the next step is to reason the 
 possible or better still the probable 
 causes which lead up in steps or scenes 
 to this feature and the results which 
 would logically* follow such an inci- 
 dent as the creator of the story may 
 have in mind. Every scene should 
 
 13 
 
lead into the next scene without a 
 break in the story being developed and 
 subtitles should only be used when it 
 is impossible to explain the action or 
 the lapse of time any other way or to 
 divide two scenes of a widely diversi- 
 fied nature, thus breaking the mental 
 leap of the spectator into two jumps. 
 The perfect motion picture has no sub- 
 titles and needs none. 
 
 Whenever possible keep the spec- 
 tator in suspense as to the climax, the 
 unravelling, as long as possible. If 
 the denouement can be withheld 
 until the last scene, so much the better. 
 Suspense is a delightful sensation 
 though we all beg not to be kept in it. 
 
 Remember that very few stories are 
 of great interest without the rustle of 
 a skirt. 
 
 Don't lose sight of the fact that all 
 the world's a stage and that you can 
 find among your acquaintances nearly 
 every character you need for any 
 story: the hard father, the loving 
 mother, the sweet sister, the sporty 
 brother, the irate old maid aunt, the 
 faithful lover, the infamous scoundrel, 
 the heartless village belle, the heroic 
 
 14 
 
friend, the shrinking bride, the crusty 
 uncle, the saintly preacher, the hypo- 
 critical elder of the church, the patient 
 invalid, the sleek banker, the unscru- 
 pulous lawyer, the charming adven- 
 turess and the innocent bystander. 
 By changing the adjectives around, 
 you have about three hundred and 
 twenty-four characters, some or all of 
 whom you surely know, and one could 
 continue the list ad infinitum. Every 
 one of the three hundred and twenty- 
 four contains the possibilities of a 
 story. 
 
 Having found the idea then and 
 evolved a story from it and cast your 
 characters mentally, the next step is 
 to write it. Begin your scenario with 
 the title, followed by the word of ex- 
 planation as to the place and time. 
 Below this, list the characters neces- 
 sary for the action of the story, 
 their relationship, if any, and their 
 characteristics thus: 
 
 Title. How the Book was Written 
 
 A true story of New York — Time, 1912 
 Characters : 
 
 15 
 
Tom Smith, the Author, lean, hungry 
 individual, much in need of cash, 
 but of heroic and impulsive nature. 
 
 John Jeffries, the publisher, sleek, fat, 
 sceptical and wealthy, but niggardly. 
 
 Bill Sayers, the Compositor, a profane 
 man who constantly chews tobacco 
 and criticises the author. 
 
 Mrs. Smith, the Author's wife, who 
 needs a new coat and urges him to 
 greater efforts. 
 
 Men, Women and Children who buy 
 books and write photoplays living 
 happily ever after on their incomes. 
 
 This enables the producer to select 
 his players for the parts without hav- 
 ing to search for each one in the body 
 of the scenario. 
 
 Follow the list of characters with 
 a short but very clear synopsis of the 
 entire play, disregarding scenes alto- 
 gether, as for example: 
 
 "A wealthy publisher visits poverty 
 stricken writer and, taking advantage 
 of this circumstance, induces him to 
 write a book entitled, "How to Write a 
 
 16 
 
Photoplay." Writer agrees, goes home 
 breaks news to wife who, weeping, 
 urges him to keep his word though 
 difficult. Author gets writer's cramp 
 and wife completes work. Deception 
 is discovered by publisher who re- 
 fuses to pay and writer and wife drop 
 dead from shock. Publisher gloats 
 over his ruin." 
 
 The value of the short synopsis lies 
 in the fact that the Scenario Editor 
 who is familiar with the class of pic- 
 ture desired by the company in whose 
 employ he is can thus sidestep a poor 
 story or give particularly careful at- 
 tention to one whose synopsis sounds 
 good. 
 
 Having done this we now come to 
 the scenario proper which is in reality 
 the synopsis rewritten in detail and 
 divided into scenes. 
 
 The scenario writer must bear in 
 mind that the first thing to do is to 
 introduce his characters on the screen 
 in a way that almost immediately de- 
 termines their position in, and rela- 
 tionship to, the story. Many photo- 
 plays are failures because a proper 
 beginning has not been arranged. 
 
 17 
 
If, for example, the scene opens in 
 a young woman's home and her lover 
 is coming to see her, the fact that he 
 is her lover and not her brother or 
 husband should be clearly shown in 
 the action, and the action of the play 
 is the thing to write. 
 
 Bear in mind that the players have 
 no "lines" to sustain their parts, but 
 must depend entirely upon gesture, 
 expression and grouping to convey 
 their meaning. 
 
 In the situation suggested above the 
 young woman, Mary, is seated in the 
 living room attempting to read, near 
 her is an elderly man reading also. 
 Mary doesn't read, however, the book 
 lies open on her lap, her eyes are fixed 
 on vacancy and a smile hovers on her 
 lips. Immediately the spectator gets 
 the hunch that she is in love. Without 
 the smile she may merely be planning 
 how to pay the grocer's bill or she may 
 be contemplating suicide, but the 
 sweet ghost of a smile — a loving ex- 
 pression tells the story. Into the room 
 bounds a youth — if the girl turns in- 
 stantly and throws her arms about his 
 neck it's probably her brother, but if 
 
 18 
 
she recognizes his footstep, clasps her 
 hands quickly, raises them to her 
 cheek and joy flashes from her eyes 
 and smiling lips and then she turns 
 and puts her arms about him it surely 
 is her sweetheart and nobody else. 
 This, if they are engaged. If she loves 
 him but is not engaged and doesn't 
 know whether he loves her or not she 
 does all the above except turning with 
 her arms outstretched. She turns, 
 but it is to shake hands. If they know 
 each other's love and papa in the arm 
 chair doesn't there is a surreptitious 
 kiss. If papa does know all about it 
 he arises, smiles, slaps the youth on 
 the back and makes him feel at home. 
 
 These are merely examples of the 
 shades of meaning which may be 
 shown clearly and without difficulty. 
 All that a scenario writer is supposed 
 to write in the actions of the players in 
 detail — this action is called the "busi- 
 ness." 
 
 With such an introduction the 
 spectator feels instantly that he has 
 been let in on the ground floor and the 
 figures on the screen are already his 
 old friends. 
 
 19 
 
Keep your first characters on the 
 screen, even though in different scenes, 
 long enough to get everyone familiar 
 with them and their environment in 
 the story before introducing a new and 
 unexpected phase in the tale. To fail 
 in this is faulty construction. 
 
 Recently I saw a picture with such 
 a fault. The opening scene showed 
 a man released from prison and met 
 at the prison gate by his daughter. 
 This scene was followed by a subtitle 
 reading: "A Year Later — John Morgan 
 is Dying," and then a scene depicting 
 an elderly man on his deathbed. It 
 took several moments for those in the 
 theatre to become mentally adjusted 
 to the fact that this was not the same 
 man who was released from prison a 
 year before but a new character in 
 the play. How much better it would 
 have been if the released prisoner had 
 been shown reaching his home with 
 his daughter, then a subtitle as fol- 
 lows: "A Year later — Bill Snyder re- 
 ceives word that his old friend Mor- 
 gan is dying." Follow this with a 
 scene of the same room, though more 
 prosperous in appearance. Bill Sny- 
 
 20 
 
der receives a letter asking him to call 
 on Morgan who is dying. Snyder 
 exits; street scene follows; exterior of 
 house follows this; Snyder in both 
 scenes, entering house in latter, then 
 Morgan's sick-room. This really hap- 
 pened in the story, but not in the 
 order suggested above. In the 
 amended arrangement the spectator, 
 who is not yet interested in Morgan 
 but in Snyder, is led by easy stages 
 from Snyder to Morgan and the inter- 
 est is transferred, or rather divided. 
 Let one scene lead into the next scene 
 wherever possible. Motion picture 
 theatre goers don't yearn for mental 
 gymnastics and shouldn't be kept 
 guessing as to who the characters are 
 or why they are in the story at all. 
 Point one, then, is to arrange the 
 entrance of your characters into the 
 plot in a way which informs the spec- 
 tator of his or her personality and its 
 relation to others, and point two is to 
 keep your scenes in a sequence easily 
 followed by the onlooker. 
 
 Inconsistency is a fatal error 
 in photoplay writing. The author is 
 seldom to blame for inconsistencies in 
 
 21 
 
costuming because few writers de- 
 scribe in detail the dress and make up 
 of the people of the play, but an author 
 of a scenario would do well to add 
 such a detail to his list of characters. 
 A beautiful film was utterly spoiled 
 for many, not long ago, because the 
 heroine, a girl reared in poverty and 
 rags, wore throughout the play beau- 
 tiful French heeled slippers which 
 must have cost at least five dollars and 
 which would not have been worn by 
 this girl even if they were given to 
 her. This mistake was made by a 
 producer usually very keen on minute 
 details of dress and stage setting. 
 Inconsistencies in the scenario itself, 
 however, bring the manuscript home 
 to roost and it is too bad that this is 
 so, for the exercise of a little care will 
 result in the avoiding such a flagrant 
 mistake. 
 
 It is in the little things that this sort 
 of error is likely to occur. For ex- 
 ample: in a Civil War story the sce- 
 nario called for a field hospital with 
 the Red Cross flag flying from a staff. 
 Well, the Red Cross wasn't organized 
 until the closing year of the war and 
 
 22 
 
then it was done in Switzerland and 
 the Southerners and Yankees never 
 saw this emblem of mercy during the 
 whole four years of strife. 
 
 Another story of the same period 
 required that an officer in Confederate 
 uniform be informed by a courier, 
 also in Confederate togs, that war had 
 been declared between the North and 
 South. But there was no gray uniform 
 of the Confederacy before the C. S. A. 
 was formed! Still another film story 
 showed a southern mansion at the 
 close of the war. All the negroes but 
 one had fled long ago. Enters a Union 
 officer and reads the Emancipation 
 Proclamation and with tears of sorrow 
 streaming down his face the last faith- 
 ful servitor left his weeping mistress 
 and went north. Why did he weep, or 
 why did he not stay. He wasn't com- 
 pelled to leave his mistress! She 
 simply couldn't compel him to remain 
 — and if he wished to stay so badly 
 that he wept at parting, why did he go 
 at all. The story required that we get 
 the negro away for a few years and 
 that method was good enough in the 
 mind of the scenario writer. 
 
 23 
 
Another sort of inconsistency is 
 shown in the following: we see a 
 crowd of foundrymen going on strike 
 but they are persuaded by the fore- 
 man to remain at work one day more. 
 We know they are foundrymen be- 
 cause in the opening scene they are 
 at work in the foundry, but when they 
 decide to work another day they send 
 a note to the boss saying that they 
 have decided to finish a day's work 
 on the McCormick job, and where do 
 you suppose we see them next? Doing 
 structural iron work on a tall build- 
 ing! The scene was good, but never, 
 never, never! did foundrymen belong 
 to, and work with, the structural iron 
 workers' union, doing both jobs 
 alternately. 
 
 One of the easiest ways to fall into 
 an error of this sort is the desire to 
 explain what one man says to another. 
 Many writers require one character 
 to write a note to another and then 
 hand it to the latter in person that 
 the note may be thrown on the screen 
 and read by the audience who are 
 thus apprised of what goes on between 
 the two men. Crude! A little in- 
 
 24 
 
genuity can surely dope out a better 
 way than that. So Point Three — Be 
 consistent in all things ! Point Four — 
 Be logical! This should be printed 
 thus: BE LOGICAL! Nothing mars 
 the smoothness of a photoplay more 
 than an illogical action. Photophans 
 are quick to note as serious, an error 
 apparently trifling to the writer and 
 it usually raises a laugh at the wrong 
 time. If you were a young girl who 
 owed your life to a man subsequently 
 put in jail for a crime, and your sense 
 of gratitude compelled you to steal 
 the keys from your father who is the 
 sheriff and to let the prisoner go free, 
 would you carry the handcuffs home 
 with you and put them and the keys 
 under the couch cover for papa to sit 
 on so that he might find them and 
 accuse you? Wouldn't you throw the 
 handcuffs away and return the keys 
 to their proper place so that the 
 prisoner might seem to have escaped 
 alone? Of course! And yet, because 
 the story required that the sheriff find 
 out his daughter's share in the escape 
 the author of this scenario could find 
 
 25 
 
no better way than this illogical action, 
 and it spoiled the story utterly. 
 
 Before you submit your scenario 
 you should go over every action care- 
 fully and determine positively that 
 there is nothing which is forced and 
 strained and in consequence illogical. 
 Logic is the smoothest form of thought 
 and creates the least mental friction. 
 
 20 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 What Not to Do 
 
 DO not introduce absurdities (un- 
 less you are writing a farce, and 
 don't write a farce unless you're 
 absolutely sure it's good) . Absurdities 
 are never logical. For instance, do 
 not create a situation wherein a char- 
 acter is compelled to hold a match, 
 a candle or a lantern, because such a 
 light never photographs well and the 
 result is absurd. It shows a player 
 surrounded with light sufficiently 
 bright for photographic purposes 
 holding aloft a much lesser light by 
 which he or she hopes to be able to 
 see. Arrange your scenes to be either 
 dark or light, but never try to show 
 the light itself unless it is the light of 
 a dark lantern which projects a light 
 disc on the wall or hanging of a room 
 otherwise totally dark and which can 
 be shown with comparatively good 
 results. 
 
 In writing a comedy film do not at- 
 
 27 
 
tempt to be funny. If you can put 
 over stuff that sounds funny write it 
 in story form and send it to the 
 magazines. When a comedy sce- 
 nario is submitted, the business of the 
 actors must be explained fully to 
 show just where the comedy comes 
 in, but you need not write it humor- 
 ously for the benefit of the scenario 
 editor who is decidedly unappre- 
 ciative of such an effort. It has been 
 said very truly that the scenario 
 writer writes in words and the sce- 
 nario editor reads in pictures. Cul- 
 tivate the art of thinking in pictures 
 and you will have fewer scenarios in 
 the rejected barrel. 
 
 The best comedy scenes in picture- 
 dom are serious business for the 
 writer, editor, producer and actor, and 
 scripts submitted should be seriously 
 written in an earnest endeavor to 
 make the reader see and not hear the 
 humor. So much depends upon the 
 artists in a comedy picture that a mere 
 outline of the business is all that is 
 needed. Do not make your comedy 
 scenario, or any other for that matter, 
 read like a correspondence school 
 
 28 
 
lesson in acting. The actors under 
 the producer's direction are usually 
 quite capable of portraying the action 
 and emotion realistically if the desired 
 action and emotion is suggested with- 
 out instructions from the author. If 
 they were incapable they would not 
 be holding down the floor in the 
 various manufacturers' studios. Don't 
 be verbose. It is a very easy matter 
 for a writer fired with enthusiasm to 
 overwrite. 
 
 Revising is the hardest part of a 
 writer's work. The first copy flows 
 from the inspired pen like the pro- 
 verbial water from a duck's back and 
 under the influence of watching the 
 story grow the writer finds incentive 
 to continue, but oh! the drudgery of 
 rewriting and revising. Inclination 
 may writhe and squirm and plead to 
 go away and leave the work undone, 
 but Determination must grab Inclina- 
 tion and club it into submission if the 
 writer ever expects to flirt with the 
 elusive Goddess of Success. Revision 
 is imperative. All the big fellows in 
 the literary world do it. Only by care- 
 ful rewording and rewriting can any 
 
 29 
 
production of this nature be flawless. 
 A good way to do this is to read your 
 scenario aloud to members of the 
 family or to friends; better still is it 
 to have some one read it to you that 
 you may hear the words with another's 
 intonation and vocal shades. 
 
 The value of revision is well shown 
 in the two following scenes which also 
 explain clearly overwriting and un- 
 derwriting. Scene I: Drawing room 
 of wealthy woman's house. Every- 
 thing is beautifully furnished in the 
 most expensive manner. Palms and 
 ferns abound. Up stage center are 
 folding doors hung with curtains of 
 exquisite taste. Fine silk damask 
 settle down stage left; other furniture 
 to match arranged around room taste- 
 fully. Reception is in progress — ladies 
 in reception gowns are strolling here 
 and there with their escorts admiring 
 the beauties of the room. The 
 hostess, gowned in a white satin 
 creation covered with dewdrop net 
 and trimmed with pearls, sits lan- 
 guidly toying with fan and talking 
 with gentlemen in evening clothes. 
 Another man enters up stage an- 
 
 30 
 
nounced by butler who stands with 
 arms akimbo as he makes announce- 
 ment. Man approaches hostess and 
 bowing low over her hand expresses 
 his appreciation of his good fortune 
 at having been able to accept her kind 
 invitation, etc. 
 
 The above is grossly overwritten. 
 By rereading and revising the author 
 finds that he has much that is abso- 
 lutely useless and hinders rather than 
 helps the delineation of the scene. 
 Properly revised it should read about 
 as follows: 
 
 Scene I: Richly appointed drawing 
 room decorated for reception. Re- 
 ception in progress. Guests in groups 
 or couples occupying time as producer 
 desires in background. Hostess seated 
 in foreground earnestly conversing 
 with man. Butler enters, announces 
 newcomer. Man enters — comes di- 
 rectly to hostess, bows — is introduced 
 to other man — turns and engages 
 hostess in conversation. Apparently 
 each greatty interested in other, etc. 
 
 Here we have the actual action 
 without the trimmings which the pro- 
 ducer can be trusted to supply. 
 
 31 
 
Avoid also writing too little. The 
 scene described above would be diffi- 
 cult to grasp if it were written : 
 
 Scene I : Drawing room — Reception. 
 Hostess and man earnestly talking. 
 Another man enters and engages 
 hostess in conversation. 
 
 There is a happy medium in script 
 writing for which the beginner must 
 strive, and this can be gained only by 
 painstaking rewritings. 
 
 Make your stories timely and be 
 guided by the wants of various manu- 
 factures as to where to submit the 
 manuscripts. It is scarcely worth 
 while submitting a story in August 
 based upon a rescue from the skating 
 pond, and one would find scant con- 
 sideration for a scene in a daisy field 
 at a time of year when the scenario 
 editor has to arise at 4 A. M. to 
 put coal on the furnace to keep 
 his feet from being frostbitten in 
 bed. If you get a good hunch for 
 a winter story in midsummer, write it. 
 No one can blame you if you are built 
 that way, but don't expect others to 
 be enthusiastic about a toboganing 
 
 32 
 
scene when the weather is so hot the 
 ice man has to run from his wagon 
 to the refrigerator to get there before 
 the ten cents' worth melts. Save your 
 script until the season suits. Studios 
 do not have a store-room for scripts 
 which must be kept for months before 
 they can be produced. 
 
 Furthermore, don't send Biblical 
 stories to a manufacturer who makes 
 a specialty of western stuff. Study 
 the needs of the firms producing pic- 
 tures and direct your scenarios ac- 
 cordingly. On another page the class 
 of story most sought for by the differ- 
 ent studios is touched upon, and am- 
 bitious writers cannot do better than 
 to subscribe to The Moving Picture 
 World or some other trade paper and 
 carefully study the comments on the 
 films as they appear week by week. 
 This will serve a twofold purpose. 
 One who reads its pages thoughtfully 
 will soon grasp the nature of the 
 stories wanted and is almost sure to 
 find meat for a new story in the de- 
 scriptions of the old. An old theme 
 described ofttimes suggests an entirely 
 
 33 
 
new idea which can well be built into 
 a most acceptable scenario. 
 
 Avoid consecutive scenes in the 
 same set wherever possible. Arrange 
 your scenes so the characters appear 
 with different surroundings in each 
 succeeding scene. This doesn't mean 
 that you cannot use the same scene 
 more 1 than once in a story, but that 
 the same scene shall not appear again 
 without one or more different scenes 
 to divide it. Do not worry over the 
 possibility of making too many scenes 
 in a photoplay. On the stage the play 
 is usually confined to two, three, or 
 four acts and this is possible for the 
 reason that the lines of the players 
 describe the action which occurs be- 
 tween acts and explains the lapse of 
 time, change of scenery, etc. In 
 motion pictures the action must all be 
 self-explanatory and it is not an un- 
 usual thing for a photoplay to have 
 thirty or thirty-five different back- 
 grounds or "sets." 
 
 If a man is to go from a room in one 
 house to a room in another, there 
 should be a scene showing him enter- 
 ing the second house, but it is un- 
 
 34 
 
necessary to have him leaving the first 
 because in the first room he can be 
 made to catch up his coat and hat and 
 exit. Obviously he is going out, and 
 when one sees him on the street and 
 entering the second house the entire 
 thought is conveyed to the spectator. 
 The question may arise, if his action of 
 putting on his hat and coat suggests 
 leaving the house, why his enter- 
 ing another room and removing them 
 doesn't mean the reverse. The answer 
 is simple — because he may have 
 simply gone into another room in his 
 own house and the man in the theatre 
 seat wonders, "Why, in thunder, did 
 he put his hat and coat on to go along 
 the hall or just from room to room." 
 Seems farfetched, but it isn't. The 
 spectator asks just such questions. 
 There is an exception to the above, 
 of course. If, for instance, you have 
 "established" two houses in the mind 
 of the onlooker — if you have shown 
 John Jones in his room doing 
 something which indicates that it is 
 his room, such as entering, taking off 
 his coat and putting on a smoking- 
 jacket, and you have shown Jane 
 
 35 
 
Smith reading a book or eating choco- 
 lates or trying on a dress in her room, 
 so that the spectator feels sure that 
 the two rooms are in different houses 
 and belong to very different persons, 
 then and only then may the street 
 scene be omitted, and John putting on 
 his coat and hat in one scene and go- 
 ing out of the picture, reappearing in 
 the room which we know is Jane's, is 
 sufficiently clear for anyone. Even 
 under these circumstances, however, 
 it is bad policy unless a little action 
 precedes John's entrance, as other- 
 wise the lapse of time which John 
 consumes going from his house to 
 Jane's is not clearly indicated. The 
 meaning is clearly conveyed, how- 
 ever, with the street scene in, and as 
 it will be short and cost nothing for 
 stage scenery the photoplay writer 
 may well bear it in mind. 
 
 While writing of scenes it may be 
 well to caution the beginner against 
 inserting scenes which mean nothing 
 to the story. Many photoplay manu- 
 scripts fail because the main thread 
 of the story has not been closely ad- 
 hered to, and scenes with almost no 
 
 36 
 
bearing on the subject are introduced. 
 Be sure every scene is necessary and 
 relates to the theme. Recently a 
 scenario passed through my hands 
 which contained no less than four 
 stories, all so comingled that none 
 were understandable. This is quite a 
 common fault and should be carefully 
 avoided. Develop your scenario with 
 as much care as you would if you 
 were writing a play for the stage, and 
 after it is all written try to locate 
 places where the action is weak or the 
 story strained so these faults may be 
 corrected. At the same time watch 
 carefully for unnecessary action and 
 cut it all out, rewriting the whole play 
 if necessary. The scenario editor and 
 the producer haven't time to rewrite 
 your stories, and your scripts will 
 come back many, many times if the 
 proper care in this particular is not 
 exercised. 
 
 37 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Photoplays that Won't be Accepted 
 
 THERE is a popular prejudice 
 against pictures dealing with 
 suicide, burglary, murder, kid- 
 napping, religious questions or in- 
 dignities to the State, as also there is 
 against scenes so tragic as to have a 
 depressing affect upon the spectator. 
 This prejudice has not always existed 
 and has not always been respected by 
 the film manufacturers, and because 
 of this, there has been formed 
 in New York, a National Board of 
 Censors to watch for and condemn 
 anything of an objectionable nature. 
 The services of this board are gra- 
 tuitous and they have no legal author- 
 ity to reject a picture or compel its 
 withdrawal from the market, but 
 manufacturers submit all of their 
 pictures to this board and abide by 
 its decisions. It is obvious, then, that 
 the manufacturer will not now pro- 
 duce a picture which may cost him 
 
 39 
 
several thousands of dollars if he has 
 any reason to suppose that the Board 
 of Censors will object to its exhibition. 
 Therefore, photoplay manuscripts 
 hinging on or dealing with the list 
 above will usually meet with instant 
 rejection. A crime which is unneces- 
 sary is never tolerated. Sometimes 
 a picture suggesting that a crime has 
 been committed at some period prior 
 to the story gets across, but even in 
 using a crime idea in that way it must 
 be of paramount importance to the 
 unfolding of the plot else it will not 
 be accepted. Save yourself trouble 
 and expense and the manufacturer's 
 time by sidestepping crime pictures. 
 
 Select for your theme an idea which 
 embodies good things. Avoid anything 
 coarse or suggestive. Make your 
 stories clean, wholesome, happy — a 
 dainty love story, a romantic adven- 
 ture, a deed gloriously accomplished, a 
 lesson well learned, an act of charity 
 repaid — anything of a dramatic nature 
 which is as honest as daylight. Good 
 deeds are just as dramatic as wicked 
 deeds and clean comedy is far and 
 away more humorous than coarseness. 
 
 40 
 
Keep away from scenes of brutality, 
 degeneracy, idiocy or anything which 
 may bring a poignant pang of sorrow 
 to some one of the millions of people 
 who will read your story in the pic- 
 tures unless the pang will be one of 
 remorse for a bad deed done or a good 
 deed left undone. In a word, help 
 the film makers produce films which 
 will help those who see them and 
 make the whole world a little bit 
 better for your work. 
 
 One of the most foolish things to 
 do is to crib an idea from some other 
 motion picture, play or novel and, re- 
 writing it, send it in as your own. The 
 copyright laws prescribe a penalty of 
 one hundred dollars for every exhibi- 
 tion of a picture based upon a copy- 
 righted story or play when the owner 
 of the copyright has not granted per- 
 mission to the film makers to use the 
 story for motion picture purposes. 
 Suppose someone reads a copyrighted 
 story in an old magazine, sees the 
 possibilities and rewrites it for a 
 photoplay. Suppose the scenario 
 editor lets it get by and the picture 
 is produced at a cost of three or four 
 
 41 
 
thousand dollars. Suppose the manu- 
 facturer disposes of sixty positives and 
 the sixty films are in use in sixty dif- 
 ferent theatres every day for a week. 
 Usually a film is shown five times a 
 day. What is the result? At the end 
 of a week the owner of the copyright 
 finds the picture and bringing suit 
 collects all the profits the film maker 
 has made in disposing of the films and 
 one hundred dollars for every exhibi- 
 tion of every print in every theatre 
 each day since the film was issued. 
 The fines alone would amount to 
 $210,000. 
 
 Don't waste time in rewriting other 
 people's brain children, for the sce- 
 nario editor goblins will catch you 
 sure as fate, and once you get a repu- 
 tation for plagiarism not a film maker 
 will dare to buy any manuscript from 
 you for fear it is copyrighted. The 
 admonition not to crib an idea from 
 another's story does not mean, of 
 course, that one cannot snatch a sug- 
 gestion from some story, printed, 
 played or photographed, and work up 
 a new plot therefrom. New stories 
 after all are but old ones revamped. 
 
 42 
 
This process is entirely commendable, 
 and many a good scenario has been 
 based upon an idea overlooked by the 
 author of the scenario in his own 
 script. 
 
 Let your theme be as original as 
 possible, but make your construction 
 of the theme unique. One scenario 
 writer I know writes absolutely punk 
 stuff except for the fact that there is 
 always in his stories a new turn to an 
 old idea — an unexpected little sugges- 
 tion which puts his stories over. Out 
 of ninety or a hundred scripts of his 
 submitted to one manufacturer not 
 more than twelve or fifteen have been 
 returned. Always let the unexpected 
 happen — that makes a picture inter- 
 esting and piquant, and that is the 
 thing required by film makers the 
 world over. Another man who sub- 
 mits scripts is so full of ideas he 
 doesn't have time to work them up 
 into story form and simply writes sug- 
 gestions about three lines long around 
 which a good story may be written. 
 
 One of the most successful comedies 
 was produced upon the suggestion of 
 a young woman who entered an office 
 
 43 
 
and said : "My name is Miss Jones and 
 my address is such and such a place. 
 Why not make a comedy picture of 
 a woman in a hobble skirt? If the 
 suggestion is worth anything send me 
 a check." Hobble skirts were at this 
 time torturing the eyes of mankind 
 and the suggestion was accepted and 
 a check for $5.00 sent to the girl. 
 Mere suggestions if accepted seldom 
 bring over five dollars to the suggestor 
 because the suggestee has to write the 
 story. If Miss Jones had worked out 
 the story herself it would probably 
 have paid her twenty-five or thirty 
 dollars instead of five. 
 
 Just a hint or two more: 
 
 Keep your situations tense. 
 
 Never let a scene sag in the middle 
 like a sway-backed horse. 
 
 Put backbone into your stories and 
 keep it there. 
 
 Work your story up to an unex- 
 pected climax and then finish it. 
 
 Be careful to avoid an anti-climax. 
 
 44 
 
Sidestep scenes in bad taste or 
 those which may hurt someone on 
 account of race or religion. 
 
 Never try to write down to the 
 level you may presume motion pic- 
 tures are on. The manufacturers want 
 stories of a high order. Let your 
 comedy situations be funny and not 
 silly. 
 
 Avoid absolute impossibilities and 
 improbabilities. 
 
 Keep always to the thread of your 
 story and be sure there's a thread to 
 keep to. <*T- 
 
 Don't take hackneyed subjects*^ 
 
 Don't attempt a masterpiece for 
 your first effort — a bright little dra- 
 matic comedy is a good thing to begin 
 on. 
 
 Don't strive for literary style in 
 your scenario — it isn't appreciated, is 
 unnecessary and it's not the thing 
 purchased. 
 
 Create as often as possible a new 
 situation or a new location for your 
 scenes — people tire of one kind of 
 drawing room and one kind of gesture. 
 
 45 
 
Always typewrite your manuscript 
 and always enclose a self-addressed 
 stamped envelope for its return — it 
 may bring you a check instead. 
 
 Always put your name and address 
 plainly on each sheet of manuscript. 
 
 Always keep a copy of a script you 
 send away, the letter may get lost in 
 the mail. 
 
 Don't expect that your first effort 
 will be accepted and don't be discour- 
 aged if you get a number of scripts 
 returned. 
 
 Remember that there is more than 
 one maker of films and that what is 
 poison to one is meat to another. 
 
 Don't look for a check the day after 
 you submit the scenario. 
 
 Don't send to one manufacturer a 
 script returned from another manu- 
 facturer which shows evidences of 
 having been handled before and re- 
 fused. Better rewrite it than thus 
 show its refusal by another scenario 
 editor. 
 
 46 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 A Model Scenario 
 
 THE following scenario shows bet- 
 ter than a volume, just how your 
 script should be constructed and 
 we will take up the various whys and 
 wherefores as the script proceeds. 
 
 THE MISPLACED PETTICOAT 
 
 Place, Any Resort Hotel — Time, Present 
 
 CAST 
 
 Whiffles — Stingy man away on vacation 
 without wife. 
 
 Mrs. Forts — Wife of busy lawyer also 
 away on vacation. 
 
 Mrs. Whiffles — Jealously suspicious. 
 
 Mr. Forts — Nervous and excitable. 
 
 Maid— At Hotel. 
 
 Porter — At Hotel. 
 
 Hotel Guests, Passersby, etc., etc. 
 
 Synopsis 
 
 Whiffles away on vacation fails to 
 tip porter on leaving, latter sees 
 
 47 
 
chambermaid hurrying with a for- 
 gotten petticoat after Mrs. Forts, who 
 is also leaving. Porter takes garment 
 and places same in Whiffles' suitcase. 
 Upon arriving home, Mrs. Whiffles 
 finds petticoat and thinking she has 
 ground for divorce goes to consult 
 lawyer, taking garment along as evi- 
 dence. Lawyer proves to be Mr. 
 Forts, who recognizes wife's petticoat. 
 He swears vengeance upon both Mr. 
 Whiffles and Mrs. Forts and proceeds 
 to go after it, finally winding up with 
 all characters at summer resort, when 
 everything is satisfactorily explained. 
 
 Action 
 
 Scene I — Up Stairs Hotel Corridor 
 
 Showing two or more room doors. 
 (Two in f oreground called A and B for 
 convenience of writer and producer.) 
 Whiffles enters corridor from Door A 
 closely followed by porter carrying 
 suit case. Porter looks angry — 
 Whiffles annoyed and shaking head 
 vigorously. Porter holds out hand for 
 tip — Whiffles refuses vehemently. 
 
 48 
 
Mrs. Forts enters corridor from Door 
 B. Whiffles and Mrs. Forts look at 
 each other with blank stare showing 
 no signs of recognition. Mrs. Forts 
 followed by maid carrying suit case. 
 Maid all smiles — Mrs. F. tips maid 
 liberally — takes case — goes down 
 stairway. Maid courtesies and retires 
 through Door B. Whiffles stalks down 
 stairway beckoning porter to follow 
 with grip. Porter prepares to obey. 
 Maid enters hastily from Door B car- 
 rying white petticoat. Porter stops 
 her and Maid indicates petticoat be- 
 longs to Mrs. Forts, shows tip and 
 starts to run after Mrs. Forts — Porter 
 stops her — explains that Whiffles has 
 given no tip — takes petticoat from 
 maid and puts into Whiffles' suit case. 
 Maid convulsed with laughter exits 
 through Door B and Porter grabs case 
 and exits down stairway. 
 
 Here by the simple expedient of in- 
 troducing numbered doors, a porter, 
 a maid and two people with grips, the 
 hotel atmosphere is immediately 
 shown. That the two people are 
 strangers and very different in char- 
 
 49 
 
acter is instantly recognized and thus 
 from the first moment, their relation- 
 ship to each other in the story is 
 established. By placing the petticoat 
 in Whiffles 9 grip we know he is a 
 married man else the porter would 
 have had no revenge. 
 
 Scene II — Railway Station Platform 
 
 Enter Mrs. Forts carrying case — a 
 moment later enter Whiffles carrying 
 case. Train pulls in. Mrs. Forts and 
 Whiffles climb aboard. Train pulls 
 out and disappears. 
 
 There is no need to introduce a 
 street scene between I and II because 
 in I we see them about to leave and in 
 II we see them at the place we expect 
 them to go to — the railway. 
 
 Scene III — Second Railway Station 
 Platform 
 
 Train pulls in, Mrs. Whiffles on 
 platform waiting for husband. Mrs. 
 Forts alights first closely followed by 
 Whiffles. Mrs. Whiffles eyes Mrs. 
 Forts with suspicion. Grabs Mr. 
 
 50 
 
Whiffles — Pecks him with kiss — All 
 exit. 
 
 This scene is necessary to "get them 
 off the train" and serves to indicate 
 that though unknown to each other 
 they live in the same town. Also we 
 learn here that Mrs. Whiffles is 
 jealous. 
 
 Scene IV — Street and Exterior 
 Whiffles' House 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Whiffles appear and 
 enter house. 
 
 Scene IV is introduced merely to 
 separate III and V, so that the char- 
 acters do not seem to jump from one 
 scene to another. 
 
 Scene V — Interior of Whiffles' 
 House 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Whiffles enter. Whif- 
 fles puts suit case on table and sits 
 down. Mrs. Whiffles goes to suit case 
 to remove contents. Opens case- 
 takes out first thing Mrs. Fort's petti- 
 coat. Looks astonished, then angry, 
 
 51 
 
shows garment accusingly to Whiffles. 
 Whiffles dumbfounded. Can't explain. 
 Mrs. Whiffles goes into rage — grabs 
 hat, violently pushes Whiffles back 
 into chair and exits through door. 
 Whiffles looks henpecked. 
 
 Scene VI. — Street 
 
 Mrs. Whiffles rushing along wildly 
 waving petticoat. Panoramic ending in 
 
 Scene VII — Building Entrance 
 Mrs. Whiffles hurries into building. 
 
 This scene is of course vital to the 
 story. We are now interested in Mr. 
 and Mrs. Whiffles, and not Mr. and 
 Mrs. Forts. How Mrs. Forts reached 
 home or when or where is unneces- 
 sary and is consequently left out. The 
 interest has been transferred now to 
 Mrs. Whiffles, although Mrs. Forts has 
 been on the screen long enough for us 
 to retain a subconscious interest in 
 her. Because Mrs. Whiffles takes her 
 hat she is obviously going out, con- 
 sequently scene VI and VII simply 
 
 52 
 
show the end of her quest — an office 
 building entrance. 
 
 Scene VIII — Hallway and Door, Lat- 
 ter Marked M. D. Forts & Co., Lawyers 
 
 Mrs. Whiffles stops at door, reads 
 name and enters. 
 
 The sign on the door enlightens any- 
 one who has been in doubt as to where 
 Mrs. Whiffles was going. 
 
 Scene IX — Mr. Forts' Office with 
 Mr. Forts at Desk 
 
 Mrs. Whiffles bows as does Mr. 
 Forts. Latter motions Mrs. Whiffles 
 to be seated. Mrs. Whiffles talks 
 volubly, wildly waving petticoat and 
 gesticulating toward it. Mr. Forts 
 looks sad and shakes head. Holds out 
 hand for petticoat. Receives it — 
 examines it — first casually — then in- 
 tently — finally with wild eyed recogni- 
 tion. Looks at waist band — sees name 
 "Martha Forts" (foreground of name) . 
 Jumps up and raves. Mrs. Whiffles 
 jumps up and two race up and down 
 
 53 
 
office. Mr. Forts explaining that the 
 petticoat belongs to his wife. Mrs. 
 Whiffles begins to weep. Mr. Forts 
 comforts her. Mrs. Whiffles' head 
 falls on his shoulder. Door opens 
 silently. Neither see it — Mrs. Forts 
 enters — sees tableau — speaks sharply. 
 Both others start guiltily. Mrs. Forts 
 upbraids husband. Mr. Forts re- 
 taliates waving petticoat under her 
 eyes. Mrs. Whiffles joins the melee. 
 Mrs. Forts hurriedly escapes — fol- 
 lowed by Mr. Forts and Mrs. Whiffles 
 still talking excitedly. 
 
 In this scene everyone is already 
 into the secret and the impression is 
 that Mrs. Whiffles is merely going to 
 get a divorce. Hence the sudden 
 realization that the lawyer's wife is 
 the owner of the petticoat strikes the 
 audience as a distinct surprise and 
 the result is a spontaneous laugh. 
 Heretofore no one knows the name of 
 the woman at the hotel, but when the 
 lawyer points to his name on the door 
 and the name in indelible ink on the 
 petticoat, it all becomes clear in an 
 instant. The entrance of Mrs. Forts 
 
 54 
 
when Mrs. Whiffles has her head on 
 Mr. Forts 9 shoulder develops another 
 phase of the plot which the spectators 
 haven't anticipated and is therefore 
 more keenly enjoyed by them. 
 
 Scene X — Exterior Mr. Forts' House 
 Mrs. Forts enters. 
 
 Scene XI — Mrs. Forts' Room 
 
 Enter Mrs. Forts, packs up her 
 things — writes note: 
 
 To my Husband. 
 
 Dear Sir: I have returned to the 
 hotel. When you have repented you 
 may come to me. 
 
 Your Wife. 
 
 Lays note on table, puts on hat and 
 exits from room. 
 
 Interest now centering in Mrs. Forts, 
 it is necessary for the next two or three 
 scenes to follow her movements to get 
 her placed where she may be left for 
 the moment as the interest reverts to 
 Mrs. Whiffles, the lawyer and Whif- 
 
 55 
 
fles. By inserting a note to her hus- 
 band we know what she is going to do, 
 which obviates the necessity of show- 
 ing it in scenes. 
 
 Scene XII — Exterior Mr. Whiffles' 
 House 
 
 Mr. Forts and Mrs. Whiffles appear 
 still angry. Mr. Forts now carries 
 revolver which he brandishes wildly 
 — approach steps. 
 
 Mrs. Forts out of the way we indi- 
 cate what the others have been doing 
 (going to Mr. Whiffles' house) by 
 showing them in the street before the 
 house. 
 
 In Scene XII we have brought the 
 spectator's interest back to Whiffles 
 and so we must show him. 
 
 Scene XIII — Interior Mr. Whiffles' 
 House 
 
 Whiffles sitting forlornly on chair 
 near window. Hears commotion out- 
 side, looks out of window, sees Forts 
 with revolver, shows fear, gathers up 
 
 56 
 
few belongings and exits by rear 
 window just as Mrs. Whiffles and 
 Forts enter. They quickly turn and 
 exit through door they entered. 
 
 Scene XIII can be made exceedingly 
 funny. Whiffles is sad about his mis- 
 fortune but he doesn't expect to be 
 assassinated. However, when he sees 
 the lawyer with the revolver, the 
 whole situation flashes across him in 
 one illuminating moment. The spec- 
 tators get his idea at the moment he 
 does and his difficulty is sure to excite 
 their risibility. 
 
 Scene XIV— (Same as XII) 
 
 Mr. Whiffles is jumping fence as 
 Mrs. Whiffles and Mr. Forts dash out 
 of house in pursuit. 
 
 Scene XV — Railroad Station 
 
 Mr. Whiffles rushes up, train pulls 
 in, Whiffles gets on, train pulls out. 
 Mrs. Whiffles and Forts arrive just too 
 late. 
 
 57 
 
Scene XVI — Railroad Station 
 
 Train arrives — Mr. Whiffles alights 
 and walks out of picture. Mrs. Forts 
 also alights and walks same direction 
 as Whiffles. 
 
 Here it is unnecessary to show Mrs. 
 Forts catching train, as we already 
 know she is going to the hotel and we 
 see her alight from the train in Scene 
 XVI. 
 
 Scene XVII — Entrance Lobby Hotel 
 
 Whiffles arrives and gives bag to 
 porter after signing register. Mrs. 
 Forts arrives and gives bag to porter. 
 Both exit to elevator followed by 
 porter. 
 
 Scene XVII is just a connecting 
 scene to avoid a bad mental jump. 
 
 Scene XVII— (Same as I) 
 
 Whiffles enters his old room. As 
 Mrs. Forts is about to enter her room, 
 Maid approaches. Sees Mrs. Forts, 
 
 58 
 
thinks about petticoat. Calls Mrs. 
 Forts aside and tells her the story of 
 the porter's trick. Mrs. Forts grateful, 
 gives maid tip. Maid exits. Mrs. 
 Forts turns toward room as Mr. Forts 
 and Mrs. Whiffles approach — both 
 very excited. Mrs. Forts turns, sees 
 couple — shows delight. Whiffles at 
 this moment appears. Mr. Forts grabs 
 him. Whiffles tries to explain — Mrs. 
 Forts does so for him. Mr. Forts 
 doesn't believe it. Porter enters. 
 Whiffles grabs porter — asks for the 
 truth — porter denies everything indi- 
 cating to Whiffles aside that he wants 
 money. Whiffles gives liberal tip — 
 asks porter again and again — porter 
 denies. By-play kept up until porter 
 has all of Whiffles' money and then 
 still denies. Enter maid — sees trouble 
 for woman who has been liberal — 
 tells truth — porter attempts to escape 
 — is caught and simultaneously is 
 kicked dow r n stairs by Whiffles and 
 Forts. All embrace and forgive. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 In this scene the arrival of Mr. 
 Forts and Mrs. Whiffles is a surprise, 
 
 59 
 
because we have seen them miss the 
 train, but instantly we realize that they 
 have taken a second train and arrived 
 a little later. 
 
 The sight of the porter separating 
 the miserly Whiffles from all his 
 money and then denying everything 
 is very funny and with good char- 
 acterization can be made a scream. 
 
 Here we have a sudden and com- 
 plete explantion — the story is finished, 
 so the end of the film is reached at 
 once. 
 
 A close study of the above will un- 
 doubtedly be of inestimable value to 
 all those who desire to enter this 
 lucrative field of photoplay writing. 
 Careful avoidance of anything useless 
 and a close adherence to the meat of 
 the plot will surely result in an ac- 
 ceptable scenario, provided, of course, 
 the original idea is good. No amount 
 of thought or construction can ever 
 make a good idea out of a bad one. 
 So after all, the chief factor in all of 
 this, is to get a good idea to start with. 
 
 The prices for scenarios vary 
 
 60 
 
greatly. Sometimes people send in 
 merely a suggestion of three or four 
 sentences, around which a photoplay 
 can be written. Manufacturers usually 
 pay $2.00 or $3.00 for such ideas, while 
 a scenario well planned and compre- 
 hensively written around the same 
 thought, might have netted them as 
 much as $50.00. It is a good plan for 
 scenario writers to place upon their 
 photoplays the amount they expect to 
 receive for it, as it is the duty of every 
 scenario editor to buy scripts as 
 cheaply as possible, and the checks in 
 payment are so worded that the ac- 
 ceptance of the check constitutes a 
 receipt in full for the story named on 
 the voucher. If the price asked is too 
 high and the story is good, the manu- 
 facturer will undoubtedly communi- 
 cate with the writer and ask if he will 
 accept less. Do not make your price 
 too high. Manufacturers seldom pay 
 more than $50.00, and the average 
 price is $25.00; but. a scenario sub- 
 mitted with no price stated is apt to 
 bring the writer a check for $10.00, 
 consequently, a beginner should ask 
 about $20.00 or $30.00, depending 
 
 61 
 
upon his own idea of the quality of 
 the story. Be fair in your judgment 
 of your own work and do not ask ex- 
 orbitant prices, as an exorbitant price 
 on a poor story will certainly disgust 
 the scenario editor and your scenario 
 w T ill be returned. 
 
 02 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Where to Sell 
 
 THE market for photoplays is large 
 and growing. The demand for 
 moving picture plots is increas- 
 ing all the time and the field is prac- 
 tically undeveloped. Moving pictures 
 are now made showing how a plant 
 growls. You can actually see a blade 
 of grass growing! This is very won- 
 derful and yet simple when you know 
 how it's done. An exposure is made 
 just as the plant noses its way through 
 the ground and a few hours later an- 
 other exposure is made and so on 
 until the blade is so old that it withers 
 up and is ready to blow away. By 
 projecting the pictures at the regular 
 rate of sixteen a second you can have 
 in a few minutes the life history 
 of a blade of grass or a stalk of 
 rice unrolled before you. Pictures 
 are made of wild birds in the most 
 inaccessible places — on mountain 
 sides and in cane thickets. To make 
 
 63 
 
a single film of this wild nature has 
 meant the expenditure of thousands 
 of dollars. A moving picture operator 
 has even been lowered into the pit of 
 Vesuvius and taken films of the fear- 
 ful crater. Soon moving pictures will 
 be part of every school and already 
 large machinery is being sold by mo- 
 tion pictures. The salesman for a 
 dredge or derrick company — for a ma- 
 chine that can not very well be moved 
 about on account of its size and weight 
 — comes into the office of a probable 
 purchaser, unpacks an outfit that 
 looks like a thick suitcase, draws down 
 the blinds until the room is darkened, 
 attaches to the electric light wire and 
 throws pictures of the derrick that he 
 is selling on the wall, so that the in- 
 terested man will not have to leave 
 his office to get a complete under- 
 standing of the machine. 
 
 It is a good idea to read The Mov- 
 ing Picture World or The New York 
 Sunday Telegraph occasionally, for 
 they will give the names of all the new 
 concerns in their news about moving 
 pictures. Of course they will not tell 
 what these concerns want, but you can 
 
 64 
 
try them out until you find the kind 
 of script that goes with them. Each 
 month in The Magazine Maker, 241 
 Fourth Avenue, New York, will be 
 found the wants of the new companies, 
 so that it will not be much trouble for 
 you to keep up to the minute on the 
 needs of the producing concerns. 
 
 Here are the companies that buy 
 and pay for photoplays : 
 
 The Independent Moving Picture 
 Company, 515 West 56th Street, New 
 York. 
 
 This company is know r n as the Imp 
 on account of its initials. They make 
 a specialty of American scenes, al- 
 though once in a while they send a 
 troupe into Mexico. They do not 
 care for Western and Indian pictures. 
 They like strong dramas. They do 
 not want farces or pictures where the 
 worn out chase is used and do not go 
 in for trick films. They do not pur- 
 chase material made from copyrighted 
 books. The return address should be 
 written plainly and the manuscript 
 must not be rolled. 
 
 65 
 
The Pacific Motion Picture Com- 
 pany, Temple Street, Los Angeles, 
 California. 
 
 This concern aims to get unique 
 plots and situations. They pay for an 
 accepted contribution on the royalty 
 basis. Their promise is to be very 
 liberal. 
 
 The Champion Film Manufacturing 
 Company, Ii5 West b5th Street, New 
 York. 
 
 Historical and military photoplays 
 always appeal to this company. They 
 require that the incidents be correct 
 in every particular. They also use 
 good western plots. They demand 
 that all their pictures have a novel 
 plot and have a good climax. The 
 studio and factory of this concern are 
 at Coytesville, New Jersey, but photo- 
 plays may be sent to the New York 
 office. 
 
 Thomas A. Edison, Inc., 2826 Deca- 
 tur Avenue, Bedford Park, New York 
 City. 
 
 66 
 
This concern asks that if the plot be 
 not original with the author that he 
 tell exactly how he came by it. This 
 concern is only part of the Edison 
 companies, as the electrical part is at 
 Orange, New Jersey. They go in for 
 the very best. 
 
 The Vitagraph Company of Amer- 
 ica, East 15th Street and Locust 
 Avenue, Brooklyn, New York. 
 
 They have a rule that all manu- 
 scripts must be typewritten. They 
 use a wide variety of material — come- 
 dies, romances, and stories of tragedy 
 and melodrama. If they don't like 
 the manuscript they may send it back 
 the day they receive it; each day that 
 they hold it increases the chance of 
 acceptance. 
 
 American Film Manufacturing Com- 
 pany, Ashland Block, Chicago, III. 
 
 They are strong on the American 
 cowboy. Even though it is a western 
 scene they are not very likely to use 
 it unless it is an out and out cowboy 
 
 67 
 
picture. They have a big equipment 
 of horses and cow-punchers and like 
 to keep them busy. Just recently have 
 they taken up home scenes dealing 
 with society or having a touch of 
 drama in them. But still they are 
 specialists in cowboy films. 
 
 & 
 
 The Kalem Company, 235 West 23rd 
 Street, New York. 
 
 It uses a few western plays. It also 
 favors historic photoplays and has a 
 relish for comedies. 
 
 Pathe Freres, 1 Congress Street, 
 Jersey City Heights, New Jersey. 
 
 They like comedies and want only 
 scripts with American setting for the 
 reason that they have a large produc- 
 ing company in Paris and in several* 
 other countries. 
 
 The Eclair Film Company, Linwood 
 Avenue, Fort Lee, New Jersey. 
 
 68 
 
They go in for quick action come- 
 dies. Also they like strong dramas 
 with historical incidents. 
 
 & 
 
 The So lax Company, Congress 
 Avenue, Flushing, New York. 
 
 They want photoplays on business 
 themes. Once in a while they use 
 a mystery story. Their specialty is 
 spectacular melodrama. 
 
 The Lubin Manufacturing Company, 
 20th and Indiana Avenue, Philadel- 
 phia, Pa. 
 
 They are in the market for comedies 
 and dramas with now and then a 
 western play. They like unique plots 
 and situations. 
 
 RelianceTilms, 5W West 21st Street, 
 New York. 
 
 These films are made by the Carlton 
 Motion Picture Laboratories. They 
 like intense dramas. They pay well 
 
 69 
 
for their plots, but they set a high 
 standard. 
 
 G. Melies, 20b East 38th Street, New 
 York. 
 
 This is the headquarters of the con- 
 cern, but they want their scenarios 
 sent to Santa Paula, California. Their 
 producing company is in California 
 and for that reason they want the 
 scenarios sent to Santa Paula. They 
 want plots that can be enacted in 
 California with such settings as can be 
 found in that state. They do not want 
 military scenes or anything of a spec- 
 tacular order. They do not want plays 
 that call for children. They like to 
 have riders and horses in their plays. 
 
 The Gaumont Company, Congress 
 Avenue, Flushing, New York. 
 
 This is only the American office of 
 this company with headquarters in 
 Paris. They are not manufacturing 
 films in this country just now, but hope 
 to a little later. 
 
 70 
 
R. Prieur, 10 East 15th Street, New 
 York. 
 
 This is the concern that puts out the 
 Lux Films. They are only importers 
 and are not at the present time in the 
 market for photoplays. 
 
 George Kleine, 166 North State 
 Street, Chicago, III. 
 
 Some writers think that he is in the 
 market for scenarios, but he is not, 
 as he is only an importer of films. He 
 imports Cin-es and the Urban-Eclipse 
 films. 
 
 The Majestic Motion Picture Com- 
 pany, lk5 West i5th Street, New York. 
 
 They do not want Western or Indian 
 stories. Their field is rather a broad 
 one and are willing to consider a wide 
 variety of manuscripts. 
 
 £ 
 
 Essanay Film Manufacturing Com- 
 pany, 1315 Argyle Street, Chicago, III. 
 
 71 
 
This company gets its name from 
 the initials of its president and secre- 
 tary — S. and A. Their business office 
 is in the First National Bank Building, 
 Chicago, but their studio is on Argyle 
 Street. They want plays that can be 
 acted by their Chicago company and 
 prefer "interiors" — that is, sets that 
 are not out in the open. 
 
 Crystal Film Company, Wendover 
 and Park Avenue, New York City. 
 
 They go in for a wide variety of 
 material and are courteous in their 
 treatment. 
 
 The Seneca Feature Film Company, 
 Nicholas Building, Toledo, Ohio. 
 
 This concern is not in the manu- 
 facturing business. They handle the 
 rights for different films for Ohio and 
 Michigan. 
 
 The Biograph Company, 11 East 
 Ikth Street, New York. 
 
 72 
 
They like scenarios which make you 
 think; scenarios that show up the 
 differences between the rich and the 
 poor. This is a big company and 
 capable of handling a wide variety of 
 films. Scenarios for several months 
 to come should be sent to the western 
 office of the company, Georgia Street, 
 Los Angeles, California. 
 
 s 
 
 The Thanhouser Company, New 
 Rochelle, New York. 
 
 <& 
 
 Rex Motion Picture Company, 573 
 Eleventh Avenue, New York. 
 
 <£ 
 
 Comet Film Company, 3H East 
 32nd Street, New York. 
 
 & 
 
 Powers Motion Picture Company, 
 k22 West 216th Street, New York. 
 
 73 
 
The Selig Polyscope Company, East 
 Randolph Street, Chicago, III. 
 
 They are in the market for all kinds 
 of scenarios, pp comedy, drama, West- 
 ern and so on. They have a specialty, 
 however, of big effects — scenes with 
 lots of people in them. They have 
 studios in Los Angeles and in Denver, 
 so that a writer can keep in mind that 
 they can also put on a photoplay that 
 can be acted in either of these places. 
 
 The Nestor Film Company, Bayonne, 
 New Jersey. 
 
 They use about twice as many West- 
 ern films as they do dramas. They 
 have a company in California and like 
 plots with Western flavor. Western 
 scenarios should go to Hollywood, 
 Cal. 
 
 <£ 
 
 St. Louis Motion Picture Company, 
 25th and Montgomery Street, St. Louis, 
 Mo. 
 
 74 
 
New York Motion Picture Company, 
 251 West 19th Street, New York. 
 
 Victor Film Manufacturing Com- 
 pany (Giles R. Warren, Editor), 573 
 11th Avenue, New York City. 
 
 This company has been formed to 
 present photoplays in which Miss 
 Florence Lawrence will be the star. 
 Both comedies and drama will be 
 done, but the stories must be un- 
 usually good. 
 
 Great Northern Film Company, 42 
 West Uth Street, New York. 
 
 Century Film Company, Fuller 
 Building, Springfield, Mass. 
 
 Penn Feature Film Company, Ca- 
 sino Theatre, Easton, Pa. 
 
 Superior Film Company, 32 Union 
 Square, New York. 
 
 75 
 
ENGLISH COMPANIES 
 
 Hepworth Manufacturing Company, 
 2 Denman Street, Picadilly Circus, 
 London, W., England. 
 
 & 
 
 Cricks & Martin, 101 Wardour Street, 
 London, W., England. 
 
 Jury's Imperial Pictures, 7a Upper 
 Street, St. Martin's Lane, London, 
 W. C, England. 
 
 Monopole Film Company, Cine 
 House, Greek Street, London, W., 
 England. 
 
 First, get an idea; second, study 
 your idea until you have a plot; third, 
 study the plot until you have a photo- 
 play; fourth, write it roughly, dividing 
 it into scenes; sixth, revise it; sev- 
 enth, write it more carefully, cutting 
 out in one place and adding in an- 
 
 76 
 
other; eighth, revise it; ninth, revise 
 it; tenth, revise it; eleventh, typewrite 
 it on one side of the paper only, en- 
 close it with a self-addressed stamped 
 envelope for reply and mail. Never 
 send a bunch of scenarios at once. 
 Send one at a time. The field is big 
 and growing. 
 
 Note : 
 
 The Independents, consisting of the 
 Champion, Imp, Solax, Reliance, Rex, 
 and other film manufacturing com- 
 panies, are about to organize them- 
 selves into one company and most of 
 the scenarios will then be purchased 
 through one office. This will be 
 known as the Universal Film Manu- 
 facturing Company and their office 
 will be at 1 Union Square, New York 
 
 City. 
 
 77 
 
Always Remember — 
 
 To get a good idea to work on. 
 
 To tell your story in as few words 
 as possible. 
 
 To notice what company has made 
 the film when you go to a picture show. 
 
 That what one company may turn 
 down even without a personal letter 
 another concern may accept and fea- 
 ture as a star play. 
 
 That a photoplay may be written in 
 ten minutes, but that the idea is worth 
 thinking over for a week. 
 
 78 
 
HOW 
 
 TO 
 
 KEEP 
 
 UP 
 
 TO 
 
 DATE 
 
 Writers of moving picture plays can 
 get the names and addresses of all new 
 picture companies in THE MAGA- 
 ZINE MAKER which is a magazine 
 for writers. It will tell you each month 
 fust what the new companies will buy 
 and all changes in the policy of the old 
 concerns. With Mr. Hoagland's book 
 and THE MAGAZINE MAKER 
 to give you the latest news you are 
 equipped from beginning to end to write 
 photoplays. Single copies arc 15 cents 
 and the yearly subscription is one dollar. 
 
 The Magazine Maker Publishing Co. 
 
 241 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY 
 
DON'T 
 
 INSULT 
 AN 
 
 EDITOR 
 
 Every time you send a story to a 
 magazine for which it is not suited 
 you insult the editor. It shows you 
 have not studied his magazine and that 
 you are an amateur. Our new book 
 
 WHERE TO SELL 
 
 tells the needs of every magazine in 
 the U. S. or Canada. You can find 
 what publication your story or article 
 is suited for at a glance. Price, 25 c. 
 
 The Magazine Maker Publishing Co. 
 
 241 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY 
 
 C HU01 
 
JUL 2 1912 
 
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 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Oct. 2007 
 
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