Most screenwriters are formatting before their character is alive. The problem is that format feels like progress. INT. DINER - NIGHT. Clean margins. Courier 12. It looks like a real script, so you start defending it. That leads to months polishing dialogue and protecting scenes built on an engine that was never running. Ninety pages that look like a movie and feel like nothing. Technically perfect. Emotionally dead. And you can't figure out why nobody leans in. // I know because I did it for years. I moved to Hollywood at 22. The Rugrats Movie came when I was 33. In between: - Three and a half years in aerospace, where I thought I'd die of boredom - Journalism - Advertising - Sketch comedy Every job built a skill. None of it coalesced. Because at the keyboard I did what you're probably doing right now. I ran to the script. I told myself I'd find the story in the drafting. That wasn't a process. That was me treating my ADHD. // Then Sherry Lansing, the President of Paramount, wouldn't let me. She made my writing partner and me write the treatment over and over. And over. She wouldn't let me run to the pages. She made me find the story. The story came from character. And once it was right, the screenplay emerged from it. First draft in five weeks. The notes went from "there's a lot of great stuff here" to "you've written a beautiful story and you should be very proud." That movie opened at #1, beat Will Smith's Enemy of the State, and made $100 million. Eleven years of skills finally coalesced, because someone held my feet to the fire. // So here's what I'd do instead. Build the character before you build a single scene. - The Wound - The Lie - The small life they've settled for - The hunger underneath the plot Then forge the whole movie in prose, a treatment and then a scriptment, while it's still soft enough to change. This is because a living character generates the story. Structure stops being a checklist you force from outside. It becomes pressure the character produces from inside. The scenes have to exist, because the character makes them.

Had an idea this morning while flying to NY. The 2 coaching sessions this week were electric — both writers broke through in ways that made me stop and think: what exactly am I teaching when I do this? So I ran the transcripts through ChatGPT and Claude to see what patterns they found in my coaching. After years of instinct, it finally clicked: what I’m teaching isn’t structure — it’s emotional authorship. How to write from your characters instead of about them. How to find the wound that shaped them, the lie that protects them, and the truth the story exists to expose. That’s the forge — the moment when a writer stops moving characters around the board and starts feeling what drives them. So here’s the experiment: Can AI be trained to help writers Forge Creativity, Not Replace It? I know — AI is the third rail of the creative world right now. But this isn’t about replacing writers. It’s about revealing them. I’m calling it The Primal Forge GPT. It’s not a note bot. It’s not a formula machine. It’s a tool trained directly on how I coach writers — to help you uncover the wound, lie, and truth that make a character come alive. The goal isn’t polished pages. It’s to get unstuck — to feel what’s really driving your story, the emotional engine beneath the plot. If you’re curious, drop a logline, a scene, or even a full treatment into The Primal Forge GPT and see what happens. This is just an experiment, so it might totally fail. No worries if it does — that’s part of what we teach here. Don’t be afraid to charge headlong down rabbit holes that might lead nowhere. Even a dead end is good data. If a few of you want to try it as a brainstorming or journaling tool and share honest feedback — useful or annoying — I’d love to hear it. This is just one of many tools I hope to experiment with and bring you in the coming weeks. Click here for The Primal Forge GPT. Let’s see if we can teach a machine to help us find more humanity in our own stories. 🔥

@David Stem, I've noticed that friends and family are often the last people to see an artist's potential. Familiarity seems to get in the way. It reminds me of the passage where Jesus says a prophet is not without honor except in his own hometown. I'm obviously not comparing myself to Jesus—only wondering if the principle about familiarity applies to artists too. Do you think there's truth to that? Even a yes or no would be appreciated. Jason

Just joined and finding my way around here. I’ve been too busy with work to join newcomer calls but look forward to joining a call as soon as my work schedule calms down a bit.

with 30 or so people today. About the usual. Found time to clean up the first two acts as well. That took a couple hours. Thursday I find out who I 'have' to have in the movie. (Influencers, people that pull weight with the IP). Then I'll block out the 3 to 5 shot scene where they get to have their avatar in the movie for 5 seconds, so as to complete the final act. Keep at it.