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 To him who has the patience and industry to master its teachings in 
 all their details this book is commended. A cursory perusal of its pages 
 will not reveal the magic key to success nor invoke to flame the smouldering 
 fire of genius. It is not so promised. But a careful and systematic study 
 of its contents, conjoined with persistent practice, will enable the student 
 to express intelligently in the language of the photoplay the action he 
 would have transferred to the screen. 
 
 In photoplay writing, as in every other calling, the beginner must 
 travel a devious path through toil and disappointment, and even failure, 
 before he reaches the broad road to success. The lawyer and the physician 
 must attend long years of schooling and gain proficiency by practice, often 
 at the expense of suffering clients. The builder must serve his apprentice- 
 ship, studying materials and their uses, until he is competent to begin at 
 the foundation and carry his structure up step by step. 
 
 So it is in photoplay writing — you must learn the art from the bottom. 
 The beginner can hardly expect to make an instantaneous hit in his newly 
 chosen field. Indeed, it were better he did not sell his first effort, for that 
 often spells disaster by engendering a cocksureness and a know-it-all-ness 
 that preclude further success. It were better, even, if he failed to dispose 
 of one of his first five, for that would bring a realization of deficiencies 
 that would cause him to dig down to a solid foundation of plot building 
 and technique that would insure an enduring professional structure. This 
 is not to say that immediate success is not possible — many have "arrived" 
 apparently at a single bound — but to warn, the beginner against the over- 
 confidence and haste that so often result in discouragement. 
 
 The ideas you have are your building materials and the purpose of 
 this book is to show you how to put these materials together. But there 
 is another important essential, one that lies entirely within you, yourself — 
 PERSEVERANCE. This quality the tyro in photoplay writing should 
 possess, or, if not possessing, should cultivate. 
 
 You have ideas and they are constantly occurring to you. Your next 
 step is to transform them into finished photoplays in the light of these 
 pages. When a script is finished put it in the "ice box" for a week or so 
 and attempt it again when the subject is "cold." You will find many 
 
places where it can be improved. No matter how many times you copy 
 your script, you will always find ways to improve it — a scene added here 
 or one cut out there ; a leader strengthened, another evaded ; the synopsis 
 shortened or its language improved. Study the wants and needs of the 
 producers as given in published lists and as indicated by their releases 
 and send your script out in the direction such study dictates. And then 
 if your first-born comes hurtling back almost before the stamp has had 
 time to dry, don't become discouraged and give up. It's a great shock, 
 of course, to have your masterpiece thus summarily declined, but it is not 
 necessarily an indication of poor work. Perhaps you have sent it to a 
 company already overloaded with that class of script. Very often the 
 wants of the producer as advertised in the monthly trade magazines are 
 misleading, in that they are out of date. For instance, a company operating 
 in the far West may be in need of a certain type of script. By the time 
 this information is conveyed to the trade magazine and through it to the 
 reader, the wants of the company may have been amply satisfied by local 
 writers. Then your hastily sent script is returned with the contradictory 
 statement that it is not available. Indeed, in many cases nothing short 
 of a daily paper could keep step with the varying needs of the producer. 
 
 Neither should you be discouraged if a company keeps your script 
 three or four months and then returns it with regret over its inavailability. 
 That's a pretty good sign that you have made somebody take sufficient 
 notice to lay it aside for further consideration. That "further considera- 
 tion'' may have developed the fact that the script was not just right in some 
 respect, or does not meet the requirements of the studio. Be patient 
 and don't worry the editors with inquiries concerning your scripts until 
 they have been held a time beyond all reason. Then a courteous inquny 
 will do no harm. Early or impatient query might bring the return of a 
 script that otherwise would stick. Some writers are content to let their 
 scripts lie thus for a year or more, but it is not to be expected that the 
 beginner should develop so much resignation. When a script comes back 
 to you three or four times with the disappointing, noncommittal rejection 
 slip, you are safe in assuming that in some respect it is not right. It 
 should then be thoroughly inspected, overhauled and revised and sent on 
 its way again. 
 
 If you see a play produced that resembles one of your own, don't 
 conclude that your idea has been stolen. It is probably not so. If you 
 will confine your submissions to those companies whose plays you see on 
 
the screen, there is no danger of theft. The studios are not conducted on 
 that plan. Great minds often run in the same groove, and you have no 
 mortgage on ideas. Not long ago the writer was possessed of an inspira- 
 tion, but before it could even be put on paper almost the identical thing 
 was released. This, happening to a beginner after the submission of a 
 script, might lead to unwarranted suspicion of trickery. 
 
 A knowledge of the principles of photoplay building and perseverance 
 are the basic requirements of the beginner in photoplay writing. 
 
The art of photoplay writing comprises two distinct features, namely, 
 the theme, or idea, and technique. 
 
 Needless to say, the theme, which suggests the scenario, is its most 
 essential feature. A thorough knowledge of the technical requirements of 
 the photoplay and a high efficiency in its preparation are of no particular 
 value unless an acceptable theme has been conceived, about which a salable 
 scenario can be woven. 
 
 Ideas must be born of your own imagination and thought application. 
 They can be conveyed no more than the artist can be inspired by systematic 
 human means, but technique can be taught, and the embryo idea developed 
 and placed in required form. Our effort is to maximize the possibility of 
 success through a thorough acquaintance with technique. 
 
 As an aid in the conception of the theme, we wish to emphasize the 
 importance of keen observation and ability to recognize suitable ideas 
 when met, which involves the correlative faculty of casting aside the 
 unavailable material. The Chancellor of a leading law school impresses 
 the freshmen class with the desirability of a close observance of daily 
 incidents with a view to determination by the student of the legal rights, 
 liabilities, remedies, etc., involved, thus developing as far as possible what 
 is known as the ' ' legal mind. ' ' You should develop the ' * photoplay mind. ' ' 
 Develop the power of discrimination between material which can be utilized 
 for scenario purposes and that which can not, and avoid the loss of potential 
 ideas through indifference. 
 
 As incidents occurring in our daily routine may be the subject of 
 application of legal theories, so they may be converted into a prolific field 
 from which spring the nuclei of scenario subjects. The sources from which 
 ideas may issue are many. Your own personal experiences, those of which 
 you have what may be termed "heresay information," newspaper articles, 
 current events, and those which may be adapted from your reading, are 
 perhaps the most usual. If the plot is not original the source from which 
 it is obtained should be stated. An infringement upon a copyrighted 
 article, magazine story, etc., will not receive consideration, and the penalty 
 for such infringement is severe. The photoplay offers the greatest possible 
 range of subjects for dramatic presentation, since the restrictions of the 
 
so-ealled legitimate drama are removed, the mirror is more true to 
 nature, and the transition from place to place more complete. Ideas there- 
 fore are plentiful, but their utility for photoplay production requires 
 thoughtful consideration. 
 
 Avoid the commonplace ; we are all familiar with the conventional. 
 An erroneous idea entertained by many writers is that crime is the basis 
 of all dramatic action. Too much stress can not be placed upon the 
 desirability of avoiding crime, domestic infidelity, and related subjects as 
 bases for scenarios. These subjects are distasteful to an audience, and 
 should be shunned for the further reason that a severe censorship is placed 
 upon the moving picture, and the portrayal of incidents repulsive to our 
 sense of morals will eliminate an otherwise meritorious scenario. It may 
 happen that a climax cannot be reached without at least the intimation of 
 crime. Bear in mind that the actual perpetration of the crime, or the 
 4 'means employed," can not under any circumstances be shown. An 
 example of how crime may be suggested without an actual breach of the 
 iron-clad restriction, is as follows: Enter masked man from clump of 
 bushes, creeps toward house and enters window; next morning the jewels 
 are missing. Here the fact of the robbery is effectually conveyed to the 
 audience without the action of the robbery being thrown upon the screen. 
 It requires skillful handling of the plot to even suggest crime, and it is 
 best omitted. 
 
 Keep in mind that photoplays depict the Utopian scheme of things. 
 Their plots demonstrate the ultimate victory of the deserving, not always 
 the mightiest, and show a striking contrast between the honest and dis- 
 honest, the crafty and the straightforward. 
 
 It is the unique, unusual theme which holds the attention of the 
 audience and appeals to the scenario editor, and for which he patiently 
 scrutinizes the mass of material submitted to him. 
 
 Do not attempt the portrayal of plots requiring settings in a social 
 stratum with which you are not familiar. You would not write a descrip- 
 tion of life in China if you had not visited that country and studied your 
 subject ; no more should you attempt the depiction of life among the ultra- 
 wealthy, if you are not so fortunate as to live in that class. Themes of 
 great human interest transpire daily within the social plane in which you 
 live, and it is not necessary to go beyond for your ideas. A stirring, 
 interest-holding plot, worked out to a logical conclusion, settings of which 
 are laid in the tenement district finds as ready a market as the romances 
 of nobility. 
 
A photoplay readily falls into one of two genera, the comedy or tragedy, 
 which are subdivided respectively into the high comedy, burlesque comedy, 
 and farce, and the tragedy and melodrama. 
 
 A knowledge of this classification is valuable for the purpose of ready 
 disposition of scenarios, as a determination of the category in which your 
 play belongs aids in the selection of the producer or producers to whom the 
 manuscript should be submitted for sale. 
 
 It is not amiss to mention at this point the desirability of a close 
 analysis of your own talents. Are you best fitted for the writing of the 
 drama or comedy? The versatile author who can write equally well the 
 comedy and tragedy possesses exceptional ability. In one or the other the 
 average writer excels. Develop the potent talent. 
 
Pot 
 
 The basic idea conceived, and its possible utility for photoplay pur- 
 poses determined to exist, the next step is the construction of the plot, 
 which is the description of the action of the play, comprising a sequence of 
 incidents which are at last unfolded by unexpected means, in which the 
 ultimate unraveling, the climax, must be a probable consequence. 
 
 A most essential asset in the construction of the plot is what many 
 writers term the "picture eye," by which is meant the faculty of vitaliz- 
 ing the action of a contemplated scene upon an imaginary screen. A 
 thorough familiarity with the manner in which similar or closely related 
 scenes have been shown upon the screen will be of great assistance to you 
 in mastering this branch of the art of photoplay writing. Having de- 
 termined that a particular scene is indispensable to a logical consummation 
 of the theme, imagine before your mind's eye the action which will best 
 convey to your audience the thought in mind. 
 
 Your leading characters should appear early in the action of the play, 
 and the audience immediately acquainted with their positions and con- 
 nections with the plot. Their identity should be made apparent from the 
 first; if the action of the play is incapable of such construction that this 
 end is readily accomplished, resort to captions, as, for example, "Ethel's 
 Brother Returns From College." Under no circumstances permit a char- 
 acter to leave the scene before his connection with the plot has been defi- 
 nitely impressed upon the audience. 
 
 Your plot must be simple in its construction, that is, the process of 
 unraveling of the theme must not be confusing, for interest thereby lags, 
 and a most essential function is dwarfed or destroyed. Avoid complex 
 bewildering plots, full of anti-climaxes, for the further reason that they 
 require a too frequent recourse to explanatory matter in the form of 
 leaders, inserts, etc. While the incidents contained in your plot must 
 follow in logical sequence, the audience must be held in constant expecta- 
 tion and must not be disappointed ; suspense must not be sacrificed. 
 
 The plot must be plausible and reasonable, for an improbable and 
 illogical "working out" of the theme (except in the farce-comedy) elicits 
 ridicule and weakens an otherwise meritorious photoplay. The question 
 which should be determined by the writer is whether a doubtful medium 
 
in the unfolding of the plot is within the realm of possibility. In this 
 connection the commercial practicability of your play must receive con- 
 sideration. While photoplays provide entertainment, bear in mind that 
 the business is not a philanthropic project, but that the business exists 
 primarily for the purpose of affording a goodly return to the producers 
 for the enormous investment involved in its maintenance. However 
 absorbing the theme may be, its efficacy as a money-maker is one of the 
 chief determining factors in its consideration by the editor, and, manifestly, 
 a photoplay which necessitates an enormous outlay of funds for trans- 
 portation charges, leads, and other costs incidental to its production is not 
 ordinarily acceptable. Therefore, at first do not attempt the writing of 
 stupendous productions, which in view of the large casts required and the 
 heavy expense of transportation may render it commercially impracticable. 
 
 The settings must be in harmony with the action of your play. Do 
 not engage your characters in pursuits inconsistent with their station in 
 life. A supposedly low-salaried character shown as a member of an ex- 
 clusive club elicits criticism and weakens your plot. Nor would the 
 matriculation of a day-laborer's daughter in a fashionable boarding school 
 escape comment from what often proves to be a hypercritical audience. 
 Remember that the evolution of the photoplay and the present demand for 
 closer attention to details has sharpened the critical vision of even the 
 casual witness of the "movies." 
 
 In drafting your plot, the ultimate goal, toward which the action 
 should progress smoothly and steadily, is the climax. This climax, should 
 be clothed in uncertainty, for it is this uncertainty as to the ultimate 
 outcome of your story told in action on the screen, and the suspense this 
 uncertainty creates, which commands and holds the interest of the audience. 
 A plot in which the climax is revealed during the early scenes, which is 
 apparent and commonplace, and in accordance with the conventional, does 
 not contain the essential property of the salable photoplay, namely, 
 uniqueness. 
 
 Develop your climax to its highest degree of forcefulness and interest. 
 This is the surprise you have held out to your audience, and this is the 
 feature which will stamp your play as a fulfilled promise or a mere 
 sequential arrangement of incidents culminating in a denouement lacking 
 interest and strength. Do not overlook a single opportunity to make it as 
 impressive as possible, and exhaust every means in strengthening it. 
 
 Your climax having been disclosed, the interest of the audience relaxes, 
 and there is no further reason why the action of the play should continue ; 
 therefore, while the unraveling of your theme is still fresh in the minds 
 of your audience, close promptly, but not abruptly. 
 
Urates 
 
 A photoplay scene comprises all action before the camera in one posi- 
 tion, without change of background. A reference to our sample scenario 
 clearly shows just what this embraces. 
 
 For staging interior scenes it should be remembered that the scope of 
 the camera is approximately nine feet. The photographic practicability 
 of any proposed scene can readily be determined by vizualizing the action 
 within this area. 
 
 The first scene should be strong and grip the attention of the audience 
 immediately, for as too often the strength of the appeal to interest of the 
 initial paragraphs of the story determines its further perusal by the reader, 
 so the strength of the first scenes of the photoplay determines whether the 
 audience, unconsciously, perhaps, enters into the spirit of your theme, or 
 witnesses in a perfunctory manner the succession of scenes upon the screen. 
 The importance of absolute clarity of the early scenes can not be emphasized 
 too strongly. Your first scene should introduce the principals in such a 
 manner that their respective positions and relationship to each other are 
 apparent. Their connection with the theme must be thoroughly impressed 
 upon the audience so that subsequent developments will not confuse and 
 interfere with an intelligent understanding of the plot as it progresses. 
 For example, the audience should not be compelled to conjecture whether 
 the woman who enters John's office and affectionately embraces him is his 
 wife, daughter or sweetheart. 
 
 The action of the characters must progress smoothly and naturally. 
 Do not last show a character in one place and have him appear in another 
 without having given the audience some intimation of how he reached 
 there and his purpose in doing so. For example, do not have a scene close 
 upon a character seated in his office, apparently busily engaged in his work, 
 and next conveniently appear at the club. Such a transition should be 
 shown in the following manner: 
 
 Scene 1 — Office. 
 
 Jack closes desk top. Puts on coat and hat and exits. 
 
 Scene 2 — Street outside club. 
 
 Jack appears and enters building. 
 
 Scene 3 — Club Room. 
 Jack enters. 
 
Where, however, the action of the play clearly conveys to the audience 
 the intention of the character to depart from the city, for instance, and 
 the scene closes as he exits with suitcase in hand, the intervening scene, 
 showing his trip to the station, need not be shown, but the continuity of 
 action remains intact if the next scene is set in the train shed and the 
 character comes on and boards the train. 
 
 Your scenes should not contain instructions to the director as to how 
 the actors should portray any particular incident. "Jack proposes" con- 
 veys just as vividly to the director's mind the action necessary to show 
 this proposal as a minute description of your own as to how Jack does it. 
 A duel between two rivals for a lady's hand does not require a scientific 
 elucidation of the art of sword-fighting. 
 
 The use of certain technical terms will' assist greatly in the construction 
 of your scenes. For example, if you wish to inform the editor that the 
 scene opens with Jack seated at his office desk, the word "Discovered" is 
 used, and the scene would read: 
 
 Scene 1 — Office. 
 
 Jack discovered at desk. . y # 
 
 #, 
 
 The manifestation of emotion by a character is conveyed to the director 
 
 by the use of the word "Register." For example, if a character is waiting 
 at an appointed meeting place, and there is reason for his being impatient 
 and anxious, he should not be described as "walking nervously to and fro, 
 frequently looking at his watch," etc. etc. The simple statement "Jack 
 registers impatience" covers the idea thoroughly. 
 
 In the manipulation of your scenes you make a strong bid for the 
 interest and suspense of your audience. The arrangement of these units 
 of the photoplay should be studied carefully, and the most effective sequence 
 determined upon. One method of stimulating suspense is the alternate 
 flashing upon the screen of two different scenes. For example, imagine the 
 staging of a play, the outcome of which may depend upon the success of a 
 girl in occupying the time of "X" who might hinder her fiance in his 
 efforts to discover important evidence concealed in "X's" office. An alter- 
 nation of these scenes showing the progress of the search for the evidence 
 and the means to which the girl resorts to prevent " X " from returning to 
 his office keeps the audience alive to the situation. 
 
 Avoid too frequent and prolonged action in one location. A constant 
 change of locale serves to keep your audience ever alert to new develop- 
 ments in the unraveling of the theme. 
 
Avoid scenes requiring almost human intelligence in animals, and bear 
 in mind the limitations of the child actor. 
 
 The scenes should be numbered consecutively and briefly described, as 
 "Scene 5 — Hotel Lobby." If this same scene is used again or several 
 times in your plot, these subsequent scenes should be described as follows : 
 "Scene 7 — Hotel Lobby as in 5," "Scene 9 — Hotel Lobby as in 5," etc. 
 This arrangement serves to inform the director that the action reverts to 
 the previous scene. 
 
 The number of scenes in a one reel photoplay (1,000 feet film) should 
 not ordinarily exceed twenty-five in number, and the longest scene should 
 not require more than two and one-half minutes in its presentation. Scenes 
 of this length should be infrequent, as short, snappy scenes, full of ACTION, 
 are most effective. The time allotted to the average one-reel photoplay is 
 approximately twenty minutes. 
 
 Do not burden your play with a scene which does not perform some 
 function contributing to the ultimate unraveling of your theme, and which 
 is alive with ACTION, for a dull, purposeless incident threatens to destroy 
 the suspense and interest which you must retain. Its absolute indispen- 
 sableness should determine its use. 
 
Explmttrtorg Mutttr 
 
 It is quite apparent that, however near a motion picture play may 
 approach a perfect continuity of action, the use of written matter is occa- 
 sionally required to assist in a better understanding of the action. This 
 written matter takes the forms of leaders or sub-titles, and inserts, and the 
 use of this material is the one permissible waiver of the rule that the motion 
 picture story must be told entirely by pantomime. 
 
 Since words projected upon the screen during the progress of the play 
 break the continuity of action and consume film space, your plot should 
 be so constructed that frequent recourse to the use of explanatory matter 
 is not required. The function of the leader is to explain some feature 
 which can not be shown in action on the screen, and, therefore, there is a 
 wide range of circumstances under which its use may be desirable. A few 
 of its proper uses are the following : To inform the audience that a period 
 of time has elapsed since the last scene and the scene it precedes; to show 
 the words supposed to be spoken by the actor and to accompany his 
 action ; to economize in film exposure ; to explain some action vitally con- 
 nected with the plot. 
 
 In your effort to conform to the rule that an abundance of written 
 matter must not be used, however, do not impair a thorough understanding 
 of the plot through what may be termed an "under use" of written matter. 
 In the perfectly constructed play the entire action is followed without 
 effort by the audience, and the use of explanatory matter, i. e., leaders, 
 inserts, etc., has been reduced to a minimum. 
 
 Often a short scene will remove the necessity of using explanatory 
 matter, and where written matter of any character can be dispensed with 
 through the interpolation of a short scene, this construction is to be pre- 
 ferred. The following example demonstrates the manner in which the use 
 of a leader may be evaded through the introduction of a short scene. Fol- 
 lowing a scene showing a fire starting in a building, it would be entirely 
 impracticable to show its progress, and the next scene, showing the fire 
 well under way, would follow a leader, for example, ' ' Ten Minutes Later, ' ' 
 denoting that this period of time had elapsed between the scenes; but the 
 progress of the fire could be shown without the use of the leader, if, between 
 the two fire scenes (the first showing the fire starting, and the second 
 
showing it to have reached a certain stage) there were inserted a short 
 scene set in the watchman's office showing the watchman light his lantern 
 and exit, presumably to make his rounds. When the scene again reverts 
 to the fire, it may, if desired, have reached that stage when the action of 
 the characters commences again. 
 
 The above scene also demonstrates the economical use of film in the 
 production of the play. To show the progress of the fire from its start 
 would entail an extravagant waste of film, and would not prove as effective 
 as the suggested arrangement of scenes. 
 
 An insert is that matter introduced into the picture in the form 
 of a letter, newspaper clipping, notice, etc., which is projected upon the 
 screen for the purpose of informing the audience of its contents, and 
 aiding in a thorough understanding of the action. Where it is determined 
 that the use of an insert is essential to the unraveling of the plot, the chief 
 points to be kept in mind are that it must be short and strongly written, 
 and, manifestly, should be introduced at the psychological period in the 
 action of the play when it will be most effective. After the audience has 
 been given the opportunity to read this material and there is need for it 
 to again be thrown upon the screen, obviously, there is no reason why it 
 should remain on the screen for a longer period than is necessary for the 
 audience to identify it and recall to mind its contents. The subsequent 
 reappearances of this material upon the screen are designated " flashes," 
 and your attention is directed to the model scenario for an example of 
 its use. 
 
 Leaders and inserts should not demand close study and require much 
 time in their reading, but the information they convey should be clear and 
 immediately apparent. Where it would appear absurd to the audience 
 that under given circumstances a letter or newspaper clipping should be 
 so short that it may be projected upon the screen in its entirety, only that 
 portion of the article which is vital to the action need be shown. 
 
 Avoid using written matter which is entirely descriptive of the action 
 of the characters. The actors are generally capable of registering the 
 emotion, thought, mood, etc. you indicate in the plot, and a leader such 
 as "Jack worries over his loss" should not be used. 
 
ftpiipata 
 
 Every plot must be accompanied by a synopsis, not exceeding two 
 hundred and fifty words in length, in which the vital parts of the plot are 
 clearly set forth. The synopsis constitutes a succinct review of the action 
 of the plot, written in a manner which most effectively exhibits its principal 
 features. It is your plot "boiled down" to acquaint a busy editor with 
 the gist of your play. It should be forceful, and written in a clear and 
 concise manner. Imagine yourself confronted with the task of summarizing 
 a thrilling, interesting story within a limited number of words. Obviously, 
 this summary would relate only the vital parts of the story, and touch but 
 lightly upon the minor parts. Such is the structure of a satisfactory 
 synopsis of the action of a photoplay. 
 
 The impression your synopsis makes upon the scenario editor who reads 
 it determines to a large extent whether your plot merits consideration. 
 The synopsis is written solely for the information of the editor and serves 
 the purpose of apprizing him of your theme and the action incident to its 
 unraveling. It may also be used in advertising the play, if produced. 
 
 For obvious reasons the synopsis should be written AFTER the plot has 
 been completed and received final readjustments. It would manifestly be 
 unwise to restrict the evolution of your theme to a brief summary which 
 only describes it, and from which you should not feel at liberty to deviate, 
 for the purpose of strengthening the action, as often as deemed desirable. 
 While the theme is unraveling in the form of the plot, and its development 
 is still fresh in your mind, an outline of the synopsis will suggest itself, 
 but it is none the less important, and demands close study and frequent 
 reconstruction. 
 
 As in the construction of the plot, so in the writing of the synopsis, 
 literary style is unimportant, and a strong, interesting description of the 
 action is all that is required. 
 
 Do not depend upon your own judgment of the synopsis as a vehicle 
 which serves to disclose the theme and plot action, for unconsciously you 
 will supply its deficiencies, but submit it to someone who is unacquainted 
 with your theme, and its treatment. If it survives this test, and clearly 
 conveys to the reader, without assistance from you, a coherent, comprehen- 
 sive description of the action, it performs its function. 
 
fet 
 
 Following your synopsis, there should be given a short statement of 
 the principal characters engaged in the action of the plot. This statement 
 of characters and a short description of each is termed the "Cast," and 
 is important to assist in an intelligent selection of artists to play the re- 
 spective parts. It also serves to inform the editor and director at a glance 
 the number of leading characters required in the production. The cast 
 should contain, preferably in the order of their importance, the names of 
 the principal characters. The need of extras to complete scenes is indicated 
 thus : ' ' College Boys ' ' — ' ' Guests, ' ' etc. Following the name of the character 
 there should be given a short description, which suggests the character type. 
 
mtu 
 
 The title of the photoplay is the key to the purpose of the theme, or a 
 suggestion of the nature of the idea it develops, and, as you have doubtless 
 observed, assumes many forms, of which quotations, catchy phrases, and 
 those descriptive of characters and locale, are but a few. Titles may be 
 conceived from unlimited sources. 
 
 Care should be taken to select a title which is appropriate to the action 
 of the play and the consummation of the theme, by which we mean that 
 an irrelevant title, however attractive, must not be used. The title of the 
 photoplay is the drawing card, or mute press agent, which suggests the 
 possibilities an idea affords, and must not be so foreign to the theme that 
 at the conclusion of the play its direct connection is not readily discernible. 
 
 Be sure that your title is short, but at the same time impressive. No 
 inflexible rule can be laid down as to when and how the title should be 
 chosen. It often happens that the title contains the germ of the basic idea 
 which inspired the play; or gives an insight into the climax, WITHOUT 
 DISCLOSING IT; or is selected from a number of suitable titles which 
 suggest themselves after the scenario proper has been completed. 
 
 Avoid titles which disclose the climax or crisis which you have striven 
 to conceal in the construction of your plot, or those which duplicate or 
 closely resemble others which you have seen in the playhouses. An avoid- 
 ance of the latter class of titles is especially important from the standpoint 
 of the exhibitor. One does not ordinarily care to see the same photoplay 
 more than once, and it is possible that a title resembling another may lead 
 a patron into believing that he has seen a new play before. You can not, 
 of course, be expected to have ever in mind the titles of all photoplays 
 which have been produced and exhibited, but one method of keeping in 
 touch with the titles of new plays is to subscribe to the leading motion 
 picture magazines, which is to be strongly recommended for other reasons. 
 
 A strong, attractive title, which arouses interest or curiosity, is a 
 valuable adjunct, and the special point to be borne in mind in its selection 
 is that it must create a desire to view on the screen the treatment of a 
 theme it suggests. Herein lies its value as an advertising medium. 
 
&mt* plot 
 
 While not ordinarily required, it is desirable to accompany your 
 scenario with a statement of the settings required, and the scenes, designated 
 by number, occurring in each setting. 
 
 In the production of the photoplay the scenes are not run off in the 
 order of their arrangement in the plot, but for purpose of expediency all 
 scenes in the same setting are photographed in succession. For example, 
 if Scene One is set in a lawyer's office, Scene Two in a street, Scene Three 
 in a courtroom, and Scene Four in the same office as One, Scenes One and 
 Four would be photographed before the camera was moved to another 
 position. 
 
 The scene-plot, of course, should be prepared after the completion of 
 the plot, when the scenes occurring in the same setting can be readily 
 assembled. A sample scene-plot is given below: 
 
 Foundry Shop — 1, 16. 
 Physician's Office— 2, 5, 9, 15. 
 Hospital Ward— 3, 10, 14. 
 Interior Laborer's Home — 4, 8, 12. 
 Interior Country Drug Store — 6. 
 Country Road— 7, 11, 13. 
 
 The purpose of the scene-plot is to inform the editor at a glance of 
 the number of settings required in the staging of your plot, and the 
 specific scenes taking place in each setting. 
 
Author £to 
 
 In the following photoplay an attempt has been made to exemplify 
 the use of every unit of plot construction, and around these units the 
 play has been woven. Obviously a play so constructed would not be 
 salable, since the method of procedure has been reversed. It resembles 
 the structure which an architect might design were he planning a build- 
 ing about certain topographical features which were to remain undis- 
 turbed. It is believed that a sample photoplay such as we submit, more 
 nearly subserves the purpose of the text i. e., to acquaint the reader 
 with the manner of indicating to the editor a desired effect and to assist 
 the amateur writer in plot construction — than the incorporation of a 
 photoplay which might be salable, but which did not contain practical 
 illustrations of all the methods employed in perfecting construction, 
 insuring continuity of action, stimulating interest, etc. 
 
 A brief definition of each of these units is given below, and the 
 point of its occurrence in the sample photoplay indicated. 
 
 LEADER — A printed statement projected upon the screen between 
 scenes. 
 
 Before Scenes 1, 2, 7, 9, 11, 15, 23, 25, 30, 31, 35, 39, 40, 48, 49. 
 
 CUT-IN — A printed statement projected upon the screen during the 
 action of a single scene. 
 
 Scenes 14, 22, 31, 48, 53. 
 
 CUT-BACK — A return to the action of a preceding scene. 
 Scenes 3 and 5. 
 
 BUST — An enlargement or close view. 
 Scene 43. 
 
 MASK — A scene within an outlined area. 
 Scene 18. 
 
 VISION — An insertion of a scene in the corner of another. 
 Scene 38. 
 
 PLASH — A momentary reappearance on the screen of a telegram, 
 letter, etc. 
 
 Scenes 8, ^ 36, 48. 
 
 DISSOLVE — The gradual appearance or disappearance of a character or 
 scene. 
 
 Scene 45. 
 
 FADE — A gradual obliteration of a scene. 
 Scene 53. 
 
 NEWSPAPER CLIPPING — 
 Scene '35. 
 
 LETTER — 
 
 Scene 7. 
 
©fj? ©rati of j^itaptrum 
 
 Synopsis. 
 
 Frank and Louise Monroe are a happy couple, enjoying an ideal home 
 life. Ellen Werner is attracted by Monroe and her love of conquest is 
 piqued by his devotion to his wife. She exercises all her charms to interest 
 him, but he remains indifferent. 
 
 Ellen accidentally witnesses a clandestine meeting between Louise and 
 another man and grasps the opportunity to poison the husband's mind by 
 means of an anonymous letter. Monroe is indignant at the insinuation, 
 but his wife's continued absences at night and her evasion of his questions 
 sow distrust and he is impelled to employ a spy. 
 
 In his first attempt at espionage the detective learns that Louise's 
 companion is her wayward brother, and he so reports to Ellen, who has 
 bribed him to report first to her. 
 
 Ellen bribes the detective to report to Monroe only a part of what he 
 has learned. Doubt of his wife and his growing interest in Ellen cause 
 Monroe to treat his wife coldly. Estrangement, separation, and divorce 
 follow, and Ellen, free to exercise her influence, accomplishes her end, and 
 she and Monroe are married. 
 
 Later Ellen is stricken with a fatal illness and on her deathbed con- 
 fesses to Monroe her part in separating him and Louise. She pleads in 
 extenuation her love and Monroe has pity and consoles her last moments. 
 Monroe then hastens to Louise. 
 
 Louise has lived under the belief that the sole cause of her troubles was 
 her husband's love for Ellen. Now when he comes with his story of Ellen's 
 perfidy, carrying with it his own confession of doubt in her constancy, 
 there is a revulsion. Her love for him dies. She tells him that as he has 
 once without just cause believed her bad, she cannot trust herself to him 
 again. Monroe looks in vain for signs of relenting and goes from her 
 presence, crushed in spirit. 
 
 Cast of Characters. 
 
 Frank Monroe A Prosperous Young Business Man 
 
 Louise His Wife 
 
 Ellen A Designing Woman 
 
 Harry Bowen Her Brother 
 
 William Kline A Private Detective 
 
 Society Folk, Servants, School Children, Bartender. 
 
Scene-Plot. 
 
 Interiors. 
 Study — Monroe's home 6, 10. 
 Ellen's library 7, 35. 
 Monroe's office 8, 24, 36. 
 Kline's office 12, 14, 23. 
 Monroe's parlor 16, 34. 
 Hall — Monroe home 17, 19. 
 Barroom 22. 
 Louise's boudoir 25. 
 Ball room 27, 29. 
 Ellen's drawing room 30, 37. 
 Monroe dining room 31. 
 Monroe bed room 32. 
 Study — Monroe 's and Ellen 's 
 
 home 38, 48. 
 Schoolroom 39. 
 Louise's bedroom 42, 44, 46. 
 Bed room — Monroe's and Ellen's 
 
 home 47. 
 Sitting room 51, 53. 
 Bust photo, of Monroe 43. 
 Mask — Room in Monroe home 18. 
 Dissolve — Study in Monroe home 
 
 as in 6, 45. 
 
 Exteriors. 
 Lawn 1. 
 Front of Monroe home 2, 9, 15, 20, 
 
 26,33. 
 Residence street 3, 5. 
 Residence street 4. 
 Business street 11, 13. 
 Front of saloon 21. 
 Window balcony 28. 
 Outside schoolhouse 40, 52. 
 Front cottage on village street 41, 
 
 50. 
 Railway station 49. 
 
 Leader — The Birth op a Threatening Passion. 
 
 1 . . . . Lawn. — Guests assembled. Ellen discovered among guests. Monroe 
 and Louise enter arm in arm — register devotion — greetings. Ellen speaks 
 to both — turns to Monroe — endeavors to interest him. Monroe listens 
 abstractedly — turns frequently to Louise. Ellen is interrupted frequently 
 but turns back to Monroe. Monroe takes opportunity to move to side of 
 Louise. Hostess calls Louise — she moves away. Ellen steps to Monroe's 
 side — talks — exerts herself to attract him — his eyes follow Louise — he walks 
 off. Ellen is chagrined — vows that she will win him. 
 
 Leader — That Night. 
 
 2. . . .Street, front of Monroe home (night). — Louise comes on from house 
 attired for street — looks about — exits up street. 
 
 3. . . .Residence street (night). — Bowen discovered, waiting. 
 
 4. . . .Another view of street as in 3. — Ellen comes on, walking slowly. 
 
 5. . . .Street as in 3. — Bowen discovered, walking to and fro — registers im- 
 patience. Louise comes on; Ellen on from opposite direction. Louise 
 greets Bowen cordially — Ellen sees meeting — steps behind tree. Bowen 
 asks Louise question — she nods affirmatively — takes money from purse — 
 
hands to him. Ellen watches closely. Bowen and Louise exit arm in arm. 
 Ellen watches them — registers exultation — exits smiling triumphantly. 
 
 6 . . . . Study. — Monroe enters — takes seat — reads — looks at clock, which 
 points to 10. Louise enters in street attire — Monroe rises and places chair 
 for her — Louise takes seat — they chat. 
 
 Leader — The Poison Pen. 
 
 7 . . . . Library. — Ellen enters smiling triumphantly — removes gloves — takes 
 seat — writes — reads with approval. 
 
 On screen — "Mr. Monroe — Watch Your Wipe, She is Meeting 
 Another Man at Night. 
 
 A Friend." 
 
 Back to scene. — Ellen smiles triumphantly — addresses envelope — seals 
 letter — exits letter in hand. 
 
 8. .. .Office. — Monroe enters — removes hat — takes seat — opens mail — opens 
 several letters — lays them aside — opens letter — reads — registers astonish- 
 ment and anger. 
 
 Insert. — Flash of letter as in 7. 
 
 Back to scene. — Monroe furious — tears letter into bits — throws them 
 into waste basket. 
 
 Leader — The Seed of Distrust Takes Root. 
 
 9. . . .Street as in 2 (night). — Monroe comes on from street — starts to ascend 
 steps — Louise comes on from house — sees husband — starts. Monroe asks 
 question — Louise hesitates — shows slight embarrassment — recovers — laughs 
 — kisses husband — exits up street. Monroe watches her — registers per- 
 plexity — exits into house. 
 
 10 ... . Study as in 6. — Monroe enters from hall — shows perplexity and doubt 
 — takes seat — takes book — reads — lays book down — thinks — decides on 
 action — reviles himself — picks up book — bitter thoughts return — registers 
 resolution — rises — turns out light — exits. 
 
 Leader — Against His Better Self He Employs A Spy. 
 
 11. . . .Business street. — Monroe comes on — stops — looks up a building — exits 
 into building. Ellen comes on — looks up — registers understanding — smiles 
 — exits into recess at side of entrance. 
 
 12. . . .Office. — Sign on door and window, "Kline Detective Bureau" Kline 
 discovered at desk. Monroe enters — hesitates — registers embarrassment — 
 braces himself — plunges into his business. Kline listens attentively. 
 Monroe gives Kline retainer — exits. 
 
 13. . . .Street as in 11. — Monroe comes on from building — exits. Ellen comes 
 on from recess — watches Monroe — exits into building. 
 
 14. . . .Office as in 12. — Kline at desk, bill in hand, smiling contentedly. Ellen 
 enters. Kline rises — offers her chair. Ellen takes seat — leans toward Kline 
 
confidentially — tells him she knows his client and his mission. Kline 
 registers surprise — craftily awaits her purpose. Ellen takes roll of bills 
 from purse — counts out a number — says 
 
 Cut-in — "Report to Me First." 
 
 Back to scene. — Kline hesitates — looks at bills greedily — accepts. Ellen 
 exits, pleased. 
 
 Leader — The Detective Begins Operations. 
 
 15. . . .Street as in 2 (night). — Kline comes on — steps behind tree — watches 
 house. Monroe comes on from house — exits down street. Bowen enters — 
 watches Monroe — ascends steps — raps on door — door opens — Bowen exits 
 into house. Kline steps from behind tree — approaches house stealthily — 
 tries window — raises it — exits into house. 
 
 16. .. .Parlor (night). — Window raises slowly — Kline enters — looks about — 
 exits through door. 
 
 17 ... . Hall. — Kline enters — listens— goes to door opposite — places ear against 
 door — nods — stoops — looks through keyhole. 
 
 18. . . .Keyhole mask of room. — Discovered, Louise and Bowen seated. Bowen 
 has arm about Louise — talking confidentially. 
 
 19. . . .Hall as in 17. — Kline looking through keyhole — draws back — registers 
 exultation — exits. 
 
 20. . . .Street as in 2 (night). — Kline comes on from window — lowers window 
 — descends steps — exits behind tree. Bowen comes on from house — looks 
 about cautiously — descends steps — exits up street. Kline comes on from 
 behind tree — exits after Bowen. 
 
 21 ... . Street front of saloon. — Bowen comes on — exits into saloon. Kline 
 comes on — peers through door — exits into saloon. 
 
 22. . . .Bar room. — Bowen enters — goes to bar — orders drink. Kline enters — 
 saunters to rear — watches Bowen. Bowen talks to bartender — takes several 
 drinks — exits. Kline advances to bar— asks question. Bartender answers. 
 
 Cut-in — "That Was Harry Bowen, Mrs. Monroe's Brother." 
 
 Back to scene. — Kline is disgusted — exits dejectedly. 
 
 Leader — Kline Accepts a Bribe to Report Falsely to Monroe. 
 
 23 ... . Office as in 12. — Kline at desk. Ellen enters — asks question. Kline 
 tells of his discovery. Ellen registers surprise and disappointment — thinks 
 a moment — smiles — takes roll of bills from purse — offiers to Kline. Kline 
 accepts readily. Ellen exits. Kline puts on hat — exits. 
 
 24. .. .Office as in 8. — Monroe at desk — writing. Kline enters. Monroe 
 registers repugnance. Kline tells Monroe what he has seen. Monroe is 
 shocked — hides his feelings — dismisses Kline. Kline exits. Monroe waits 
 for Kline to leave — takes hat — exits. 
 
Leader — The Beginning of the End. 
 
 25 ... . Boudoir. — Louise discovered, putting finishing touches to evening 
 toilet. Monroe enters in evening attire. Louise attempts to caress him — 
 he receives the caress coldly. Louise is mystified — watches him closely. 
 Monroe goes to window and stands looking out. Louise watches him 
 thoughtfully — shakes her head doubtfully. Exeunt both. 
 
 26 .... Street as in 2 (night). — Car at curb. Monroe and Louise come on 
 from house — exit into auto — auto drives off. 
 
 27.... Ball room. — Guests assembled — Ellen among guests. Monroe and 
 Louise enter. After greetings they separate. Monroe stops near Ellen. 
 Ellen exerts herself to please him. Louise watches her husband closely. 
 Monroe is more attentive to Ellen but is abstracted — his eyes seek Louise. 
 Ellen is pleased. Hostess speaks to Ellen and she turns away. Monroe 
 walks off. Hostess leaves Ellen — she turns to Monroe — looks off scene — 
 sees Monroe — follows. Exit Ellen. 
 
 28. ... Window balcony. — Monroe comes on from inside — stands looking off 
 scene abstractedly. Ellen comes on from inside — watches Monroe for a 
 moment — speaks. Monroe turns — speaks — they chat. Ellen exercises her 
 charms to fascinate him. Monroe registers increasing interest. Ellen is 
 pleased. Exeunt both. 
 
 29 ... . Ball room as in 27. — Dancing. Louise discovered standing near door — 
 looking about anxiously. Monroe and Ellen enter — pass Louise. Louise 
 places hand on husband's arm detainingly — suggests that they leave — he 
 assents — they take their leave. Exeunt Monroe and Louise. 
 
 Leader — The Moth And The Flame. 
 
 30. . . .Drawing room. — Monroe shown in — takes seat. Ellen enters — greets 
 Monroe cordially — secretly pleased. She is fascinating and Monroe is 
 carried away — secures her hand and tries to retain it. She is not averse, 
 but holds him off. Monroe recovers himself — apologizes. They talk in a 
 friendly way. Monroe takes his leave. Ellen registers pleasure — tells her- 
 self she will win him yet. 
 
 Leader — Estranged. 
 
 31. . . .Dining room. — Monroe and Louise at meal. Coldness between them. 
 Monroe is sullen and regards his plate continuously. Louise watches him 
 with troubled countenance — tries to contain herself but the strain is too 
 great — reproaches him 
 
 Cut-in — "I Believe You Are In Love With Ellen." 
 Back to scene. — Monroe is taken back — starts to accuse her in turn — 
 hesitateis — decides to remain silent — denies her accusation. They quarrel 
 with increasing violence. Monroe offers to leave. Ellen tells him to go. 
 Monroe exits. Louise collapses into chair, weeping. 
 
 32 ... . Bed room. — Monroe enters — packs suitcases — registers regret and sad- 
 ness — exits with suitcases. 
 
33 . . . . Street as in 2. — Monroe comes on from house with suitcases — stops 
 and looks back — goes down steps dejectedly — exits up street. 
 
 34. . . .Parlor as in 16. — Louise enters — goes to window — peers out — draws 
 back — throws herself into chair — sobs. 
 
 Leader — Six Months Bring Separation. 
 
 35. . . .Library as in 7 . — Ellen discovered seated, reading newspaper — reg- 
 isters interest, excitement, exultation. 
 
 On screen — (column head) — Society Divorce. 
 
 Mrs. Frank Monroe Secures Divorce on Desertion Complaint. 
 
 On her charge of desertion, Louise Monroe was yesterday 
 granted a divorce from Frank Monroe. Mrs. Monroe, who is now 
 living at Holden, Md., testified in the hearing that 
 
 Back to scene. — Ellen registers exultation. 
 
 36 ... . Office as in 8. — Monroe enters, newspaper in hand — removes coat and 
 hat — takes seat — reads paper — registers interest and sorrow. 
 
 On screen. — Flash of column head as in 36. 
 
 Back to scene. — Monroe lays paper aside registers deep thought — picks 
 up paper — looks at article — cuts out article — places it in pocket — thinks — 
 registers decision — takes hat — exits. 
 
 37 ... .Drawing room as in 30. — Monroe enters — takes seat — waits. Ellen 
 enters — greets Monroe warmly — takes seat. Monroe draws chair close to 
 her — Monroe asks question — Ellen nods affirmatively — registers sympathy. 
 Monroe proposes — accepted. 
 
 Leader — Later: Haunted By His First Love. 
 
 38 Study.— Monroe and Ellen discovered, reading. Ellen registers deep 
 
 affection; he is less demonstrative. Ellen kisses husband — exits. Monroe 
 watches her go— falls into reverie. Vision of Louise in corner — vision fades 
 — Monroe rises — exits. 
 
 Leader — The Discarded Wife. 
 
 39 Schoolroom.— Children at studies— Louise at teacher's desk. Louise 
 
 dismisses school — pupils flock about her affectionately — exeunt all. 
 
 40 Exterior schoolhouse. — Louise comes on from house surrounded by 
 
 children — exeunt all to street. 
 41 Exterior cottage on village street. — Louise comes on with child on 
 
 either side — kisses children — exits into house. 
 42 ... . Bed room. — Louise enters — registers weariness — removes wraps — takes 
 
 photograph from dresser — looks at it long and tenderly. 
 
 43. . . .Bust of photograph of Monroe. 
 
 44 Back to 42— Louise takes seat at stand— places photograph on stand- 
 gazes at it steadily — dissolve into 
 
45. . . .Study as in 6. — Monroe in easy chair. Louise on arm of chair — arms 
 about each other — register deep affection — dissolve out. 
 
 46. .. .Back to 42. — Louise rouses with start — realizes where she is — bows 
 her head — sobs. 
 
 Leader — Death Beings Explanations. 
 
 47. . . .Bed room. — Ellen discovered on bed — Monroe at window. Ellen calls 
 him to side of bed — tells him she has confession to make — Monroe goes to 
 bedside — takes her hand — kneels at bedside — Ellen tells him 
 
 Cut-in. — ' ' The Man Louise Met Was Her Brother : I Bribed Kline 
 
 Not To Tell You: She Was Innocent, But I Wanted You. 
 
 Back to scene. — Monroe shocked— draws back — Ellen begs forgiveness 
 — pleads her great love — he has compassion — consoles her. Ellen dies. 
 Leader — Back To His First Love. 
 
 48 Study as in 38. — Monroe, in mourning, seated — thinking — registers 
 
 resolution — takes paper from pocket — reads. 
 
 Insert. — Flash of newspaper clipping column head as in 36. 
 
 Back to scene. — Monroe places clipping in pocket — exits. 
 49. . . .Railway station, small town. — Monroe comes on from station carrying 
 suitcase — citizen comes on from up street — Monroe asks question— citizen 
 nods — points off scene — Monroe exits. 
 
 50 Exterior cottage as in 41. — Monroe comes on — enters yard raps 
 
 admitted. 
 
 51 .... Sitting room. — Monroe enters — takes seat — waits — registers nervous- 
 ness. 
 
 52. .. .Exterior schoolhouse as in 40. — Louise comes on from school sur- 
 rounded by children — exeunt all to street. 
 
 53. . . .Sitting room as in 51. — Monroe pacing floor nervously. Louise enters — 
 recognizes visitor — sways as if to fall — recovers herself — demands angrily 
 what he wants. Monroe approaches her — she draws back. He tells her of 
 Ellen's death — of her dying confession — acknowledges the great wrong he 
 has done Louise. Louise stunned — she has thought that her troubles were 
 caused by her husband's love for Ellen — now he is telling her that the 
 real cause was her supposed love for another man — she is angered. Monroe 
 pleads forgiveness — she listens with a supercilious smile — when he stops 
 she says. 
 
 Cut-in — ' ' You Believed Me Bad : You Doubted Me Without Cause : 
 I Can Never Trust Myself To You Again. Go! 
 
 Back to scene. — Louise points to door — Monroe renews his plea — she 
 is implacable — he eyes her for signs of wavering — picks up his hat — walks 
 to door — opens door — turns. Ellen stands as a statue pointing to the door. 
 Monroe exits with downcast hoad. Fade out. 
 
loNot 
 
 Use more than one basic idea in a single scenario. 
 
 Require unseasonable settings. 
 
 Attempt stupendous productions at first. 
 
 Adapt themes from copyrighted stories and plays. 
 
 Write plays requiring trick animals, freak photography, etc. 
 
 Describe properties. 
 
 Use an abundance of explanatory matter, *. e., leaders, inserts, etc. 
 
 Show upon the screen the actual perpetration of a crime. 
 
 Use many long scenes. 
 
 Continue action after the climax has been disclosed. 
 
 Use interior scene where exterior will serve. 
 
 Contain in your plot a series of complex situations and anti-climaxes. 
 
 "Pad" your plot. 
 
 Sacrifice suspense under any circumstances. 
 
 Encumber your manuscript with instructions to the director as to how 
 emotions should best be portrayed. 
 
 Use unattractive titles. 
 
 Roll manuscripts. 
 
 Send carbon copies of manuscripts for consideration of editor. 
 
 Send copies of same manuscript to more than one buyer at the same 
 time. 
 
 Send manuscript under separate cover. 
 
 BECOME DISCOURAGED IF FIRST PHOTOPLAYS ARE NOT 
 ACCEPTED. 
 
©rattfimtttal 
 
 Typewrite manuscripts on Sy 2 x 11 unruled, white paper, of good 
 weight. Retain one typewritten carbon, or pen copy, in your files. 
 
 Do not fold manuscript more than twice, and enclose a stamped, ad- 
 dressed envelope, in which the manuscript will be returned to you in case 
 of rejection. Do not send manuscript under separate cover, or enclose 
 stamps for its return, but address and stamp the return envelope so that 
 nothing remains to be done in case of rejection but sealing and mailing. 
 
 Accompany your manuscript by a short letter of transmittal properly 
 addressed to the Scenario Editor, stipulating the price for which it is 
 offered for sale, or that it is submitted at regular rates, as the case may be, 
 stating the title, and the kind of play, as " A farce, entitled ' The Boarding 
 House Rivals.' " 
 
 The form of the full script should be as follows: On the first page 
 in the center should appear the title of the play, as 
 
 'THE CALL OF THE NORTH" 
 By John Smith 
 
 Your name and address should appear in the upper right hand corner 
 of this sheet. 
 
 The synopsis should be started on the second page under the caption 
 ' ' SYNOPSIS ' ' ;cast on third page ; scene-plot on fourth ; and the scenario 
 proper commenced on the fifth page, after again stating the title, as 
 
 'THE CALL OF THE NORTH" 
 
 By John Smith 
 
 Leader— LOST IN THE BLIZZARD. 
 
 SCENE— 1 * * * * 
 
 On the last page of the full script it is recommended that your name 
 again appear. Fasten the pages with a paper clip. 
 
 Send original for consideration of editor, and under no circumstances 
 send carbon copies. 
 
 Do not submit for sale copies of the same manuscripts to two or more 
 producers at the same time. In case of acceptance by both an embarrasing 
 situation would arise, and since the same manuscript can not be legally 
 sold to more than one buyer, the possibility of such a situation occurring 
 must be evaded by sending manuscript to producers in turn. 
 
 No acknowledgement of the receipt of the manuscript is made ; notice 
 of the acceptance or rejection of your play is usually the only word from 
 the buyer. 
 
 There is no schedule of prices paid for scenarios, but the amount is 
 contingent upon the merits of the play and the needs of the buyer, but 
 the beginner is perfectly safe in submitting his manuscript at regular rates 
 to any company in the market, since competition between the buyers is quite 
 keen, and good prices encourage the author to further effort. 
 
Dtmttttg a 3Ftlm 
 
 Contributed by Jack Rogerson, Director and 
 
 Leading Man, Kalorama Film Co., 
 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 The amount of work which devolves upon the director, who stands 
 just without the scene of the picture, is seldom given a thought by the 
 millions of motion play patrons. 
 
 Drilling the picture requires more careful effort than any other phase 
 of photoplay production, and upon the director's shoulders rests a great 
 responsibility. Should a fault escape the director at rehearsal, an accusing 
 finger is pointed at him when the picture is exhibited. It is his business 
 to detect and remedy mistakes of any nature. 
 
 First, the director must have a good scenario to work with. It MUST 
 be in proper form, and be accompanied by a cast of characters with a 
 short description of each character, so that respective parts may be assigned 
 members of the company. A synopsis of the plot must inform him in few 
 words the story of the play, and this epitome of the action is constantly 
 before him. A properly prepared photoplay should also contain, arranged 
 according to interiors and exteriors, a statement of the scene numbers 
 occurring in each set. For example, there may be the following scene 
 numbers in one set: 21, 36 and 45; the set may be a drawing room. 
 Logically, all scenes in the same set are "done" before the camera in the 
 same position, and the function of the scene-plot is to inform the director 
 what scenes occur in any given set. 
 
 Second, the make-up of each character is closely inspected, and the 
 manner of portraying an emotion, passion, etc., receives his close personal 
 attention, often requiring that he play a part in rehearsal that an actor 
 may grasp the director's idea as to how a scene should be "done." 
 
 Third, he must instruct the camera man just how he wants a scene 
 taken, whether far away or close to the stage, etc. Then the lines are 
 drawn to show this, and, also, that the actors may not get out of range of 
 the camera. All little details in regard to costuming, furnishings, scenery, 
 and other "props" must be carefully gone into, and each scene, before it is 
 taken, is overhauled thoroughly. 
 
 Fourth, the director then with the manuscript in hand will rehearse 
 the scenes to be taken in each set — watching for any mistakes which may 
 occur. When it is rehearsed to his entire satisfaction, the word "Shoot" 
 to the camera man starts the film rolling, and every minute the director 
 is shouting or talking to the actors. For example, "Now enter C, come 
 down to the front; think a moment; decide you will write a letter; sit 
 down at desk and write. Touch bell, Enter servant. All right servant. 
 Come down. Receive letter, turn and exit. Now C rise to your feet with 
 expression of amusement on your face." — Then to camera man "Cut it 
 please." The above is an example of what happens throughout the entire 
 picture with an occasional "Not too fast" thrown in as a caution to the 
 actors. 
 
During the time the picture is being taken, the director reigns supreme. 
 He then has general supervision of putting together the scenes in regular 
 order. When the director is compelled to direct and act at the same time, 
 he must be like the house fly ; he must have eyes and ears on all parts of him. 
 
 I may add, that the properly prepared scenario is blessed by the over- 
 worked and burdened 'director. 
 
 Jack Rogerson. 
 
 A list of American producers in the market for photoplays is given below. 
 Contrary to the usual practice we do not attempt to inform the photoplay 
 writer of the needs of these producers, for the reason that we believe such 
 information to be misleading. For example, a company may at the time of 
 publication of this book be producing exclusively plays requiring eastern 
 settings, and on the basis of the publication of this present need you may 
 submit to a producer such a play only to be informed that this buyer is now 
 overstocked with plays of this type, that the company is in the West, or many 
 other reasons why such a play is not in demand. It is recommended that the 
 reader keep in touch with the present needs of the various companies through 
 the motion picture publications, or by writing the companies for a statement 
 of their present needs. 
 
 ADVANCE MOTION PICTURE CO., 920 Edgecomb Place, Chicago, 111. 
 
 AMERICAN FILM MFG. CO., 6227-6235 Broadway, Chicago, 111. 
 
 BALBOA AMUSEMENT PRODUCING CO., 806 Security Bldg., Los Angeles, Cal. 
 
 BIOGRAPH CO., 807 East 175th St., New York City. 
 
 CALIFORNIA MOTION PICTURE CORPORATION, 356 Pine St., San Fran- 
 cisco, Cal. 
 
 THE RYNO FILM CO., 220 W 42nd St., New York City. 
 
 ECLAIR FILM CO., 126 W 46th St., New York City. 
 
 EDISON CO., 282 6 Decatur Ave., Bedford Park, New York. 
 
 ESSANAY FILM MFG. CO., 1333 Argyle St., Chicago, 111. 
 
 FAMOUS PLAYERS' FILM CO., 213-27 W 26th St., New York City. 
 
 ST. LOUIS MOTION PICTURE CO., Santa Paula, Cal. 
 
 KALEM COMPANY, 235 W 23rd St., New York City. 
 
 KINEMACOLOR COMPANY OF AMERICA, 1600 Broadway, New York City. 
 
 LUBIN MFG. CO., Indiana Ave., and 20th St., Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
 THE MUTUAL FILM CORPORATION, 29 Union Square, New York City. 
 
 NEW MAJESTIC FILM CO., 651 Fairview Ave., Los Angeles, Cal. 
 
 NEW YORK MOTION PICTURE CORPORATION, Longacre Bldg., New York 
 City. 
 
 NORTH AMERICAN FILM CORPORATION, 111 Broadway, New York City. 
 
 PATHE FRERES, 1 Congress St., Jersey City Heights, N. J. 
 
 SOLAX COMPANY, Fort Lee, N. J. 
 
 SELIG POLYSCOPE CO., 20 East Randolph St., Chicago, 111. 
 
 THE UNIVERSAL FILM MFG. CO., 1600 Broadway, New York City. 
 
 VITAGRAPH COMPANY OF AMERICA, E 15th St., and Locust Ave., Brooklyn. 
 New York. 
 
LBD'U