100 Books Like Adventures in the Screen Trade

I can’t recommend books about storytelling without including this masterwork. Anyone who works in storytelling will face times when their creative well is dry, and this book is the solution. I’ve run into quite a few moments in my life when tragedy and trauma prevented me from being my most creative self.

Whether I was dealing with personal or professional struggles, this book has always been able to bring me back to my authentic, creative self. I’ve done this “program of artist recovery” both alone and with a group (which Cameron calls a “creative cluster”), and it’s been just as successful each time. I even force my MFA writing students to do the “Artist Dates” explained in this book, and they always thank me later. 

When I first read this years ago, it struck me as one of the great books about directing—Steven Spielberg’s ingenuity is a major focus. Revisiting it today, I realize it’s equally valuable as a screenwriting resource because serving a director’s vision is a huge part of the screenwriting life.

As Gottlieb recounts, making Jaws wasn’t stressful just because the mechanical shark kept malfunctioning but because of the pressure Spielberg was under to transform a pulpy bestseller into a crowd-pleasing spectacle. Gottlieb, the third writer to work on the project, offers his unique perspective on the all-too-common scenario of starting a production without a finished script.

Every time I return to this book, I discover another insight about screenwriting, about filmmaking, and about creativity.

I loved the voice of this book–it’s the voice of Stephen King, clever, yes, and a brilliant novelist, of course, but also absolutely down-to-earth. King is a perfectionist, continually going back through his writing to hone it–a useful reminder to all of us not to be satisfied with a first or second draft.

The book shows how, in the best writing, both dialogue and plot arise out of character. And I particularly valued his emphasis on cutting, cutting, cutting–dialogue and everything else. He’s made me do that more than ever!

This book is old, like early 1900s. It was first drafted by William Strunk, Jr., who distributed a version to his students at Columbia University in 1919. E.B. White (author of Charlotte’s Web) modernized it in the ’50s. It went on to sell millions of copies and become one of the most influential guides to English. Why the history lesson? Because it’s remarkable how relevant it remains in 2022. It can feel dusty and literary, but it offers nuggets of wisdom like “omit needless words” that influence writers like me today. I shamelessly ripped off the concept of “elements” for my book. The “little book” is short—the fourth edition is 42 pages—but mighty. It deserves a spot on your physical or virtual bookshelf.    

I read this book years ago, and it has become such a part of my DNA that I barely remember not knowing the ideas it introduces. A lot of screenwriting books focus on structure and premise, trying to decide what kind of event should happen by which page. This book gave me a freer, more spiritual way to think about and structure stories.

Vogler’s book—heavily influenced by Joseph Campbell’s Hero with a Thousand Faces—showed me how to think of stories as mythical journeys, almost Jungian in their symbolism. How even the most modern or intimate story can be seen as a warrior’s journey into an unknown land; How stories can benefit from being a few degrees closer to dreams or the unconscious.

I've been an avid fan of the book ever since, and can barely think of storytelling separately from the ideas in it. 

“You never really succeed,” Andrew W. Marlowe tells the editors of Tales from the Script, “You always fail at a higher level.” So: first you can’t finish your script, then you can’t get it read, then you can’t sell it, then you can’t get it made, then it’s made – but badly. Or, in Marlowe’s case, it’s made into Air Force One and you’re asked to repeat the trick. “Even when you get to the top there’s this realization: ‘Okay, the view is great, but tomorrow I gotta get up and start climbing the mountain again.’” If you find that depressing, don’t be a screenwriter. If you see it as a challenge, read on…

Make a list of great American movies of the 20th century—Sidney Lumet has directed a lot of them. 12 Angry Men. Dog Day Afternoon, Serpico, Network, The Wiz, The Verdict, and so many more. When his book came out in 1995, there had never been a book like it.

Sidney Lumet was giving away his secrets? Wow. I purchased it immediately. When I learned that Mr. Lumet was to appear at a book signing in my city, I arrived early, toting my precious, already dogeared volume, and stood in line to get it signed. For all these years since its publication in 1995, it has stood at or near the top of best-selling books about making movies.

I must have read a hundred books about story structure over the years. Somehow, perhaps because of some story-related blind spot on my part, none of them ever seemed to stick.

My problem was always the middle. Middles can sag. It seems that a story's interior becomes little more than the wasteland a protagonist must traverse to get from the mystery of a beginning to the ultimate challenge of an ending.

Yorke's Into The Woods celebrates the middle. He reminds us that the essential crux of a story lies in its midpoint. Right at the heart of an effective story, he argues, lies a fundamental transformation, a change so great that the protagonist emerges with new powers into a new world.

Furthermore, by analysing stories in five acts rather than three, he allows for an elegant symmetry in which the first and fifth, second, and fourth acts mirror one another.… show more.

Once upon a time, in a small apartment in Brooklyn, an unemployed, unproduced, unagented writer sat down to start a script. Three days later he finished it. Twelve months of rewrites and he sold it. Four years later it was made. And a year after that it won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. But, Michael Arndt notes in his modest introduction to the shooting script, this isn’t “a rewards-of-virtue narrative”; it’s a story about the razor-thin line between success and failure – and how, as Dwayne says in the movie, you should “do what you love and fuck the rest”. Words to live – and write – by.

Rejection is a big part of the writer’s life (less so now that self-publishing has taken off, but it still rears its ugly head more times than you might expect).

Actors know all about rejection and the late Charles Grodin had more than his share. While this is technically a memoir, it’s also a handbook on how to deal with and process all the forms of rejection you might encounter on your journey. As an additional incentive to read it, please know that Charles Grodin is a terrific writer and a funny, funny man. You’ll learn while you laugh.