There are two ways to approach writing a script for a video: before you shoot, and after you shoot.

Before you shoot is where the majority of corporate and event videos
land; after you shoot usually indicates that you’re conducting
interviews and won’t know what material you’ll have until after the
interviews.

Let’s look at the first, and most traditional, method.

Scriptwriting is the art and craft of extrapolating a creative
approach into a working creative plan. A script is more than just the
words. It is the blueprint that indicates the structure or flow of your
video, what kinds of shots are necessary, what kinds of graphics are
appropriate, and what types of music might be used or created.

My first business partner couldn’t do wordplay worth a damn, but he
actually was an excellent scriptwriter, because he knew how to pace a
piece of communications. So whether you think you’re a writer or not,
let’s look at the basics of how you can craft your creative blueprint.

The Creative Plan

Before you begin writing, you must know what your strategy is.
Whether you’re selling widgets or telling the life story of Uncle
Teddy, you must know your beginning, middle and end.

I believe all creative plans follow some essential rules of marketing, and often follow the same basic outline for the script.

Marketing Rules

These hardly ever vary. They are called many things, have sold a lot of books, and been rehashed over and over.

But they work. It’s all centered around the person you’re trying to
sell. It’s called the USP, or unique selling proposition. Ya gotta have
one!

From the USP comes the ability to do the following:

• State a clear benefit.
• Offer proof.
• Have a unique angle.
• Show the solution.
• Eliminate objections.
• Ask for the sale (or the demo).

In the video script world, this might look like:

• Introduction or Premise
• Who we are
• What we do
• Why we’re different
• What’s in it for you
• Ask for the sale

Really. That’s about it. Remember, this is not a brochure. People’s attention spans are short.

Now, let’s say you want to create buzz so that MyCO, your new
computerized inventory management company (and its new product, “The
Docufab 5000”), can look large enough to compete with the big dog in
your field— we’ll call them BigCo.

BigCo owns the market, but they’re— big. Slow to innovate, slow to
respond to customer requests. They haven’t revised their product
offering in 5 years.

You want to eat their lunch (or, if you’re starting out, any lunch at all), and you have just the product to do it.

You have just enough money to make a video, which you figure you’ll
show to customers on your laptop, in your trade show booth (a massive
8’x10’ with a table), and on your website.

Video Outline

Let’s look at the questions to ask yourself.

1. What outcome do I want from this video?
2. What unique thing does my company offer?
3. How does this product embody that unique feature (or philosophy)?
4. What’s in it for the customer?
5. What hang-ups does the customer have?
6. How do we move to the next step?

In this case, the next step is being put on the bid list, being
asked to make a presentation to upper management, or being asked to
make a proposal. This is also the outcome you want.

You are sensitive to the needs of the industry and are a house of
ideas, moving fast, developing solutions, adapting your patented
technologies to companies large and small.

Your product offers ImageFast, a revolutionary way to reduce scan time and speed document flow over traditional Cat5 wire.

This will offer the customer a direct impact in greater
productivity, faster shipping turnaround, less time spent running
around looking for manuals, and allow the company to sell and ship more
of whatever it is they do. (The hidden bonus is the hero factor— the
person that buys this product will introduce such productivity and
profit to the company that he or she will get a raise and a corner
office— of course, this is implied, not stated.)

Now think it through— you’ve got a better product than BigCo— is
there anything that would make a potential customer NOT buy what you’re
selling?

Yes, you’re young enough to look like you just came out of high
school. Your track record is neither good nor bad— it’s empty. So you
get an endorsement from your Uncle Don who’s a well known civil
engineer (or a past customer, if you’re well established).  Maybe you
grow a beard.

And you offer a guarantee.

The Final Structure

So now, let’s look at our final outline:

• Document management is slow, and industry leaders are not keeping up with bandwidth demands.
• You have a solution that’s unique to the industry.
• You are MyCo, a company dedicated to R&D and solutions that provide productivity and profit. You never stop innovating.
• The Docufab 5000 blows the competition away. You proceed to tell how. (features)
• The Docufab 5000 will change your company for the better, is upgradable, etc. (benefits)
• Let us demonstrate our system and give you a quote. If you’re not 100%
  satisfied, we’ll (fix it, refund your money, whatever…)— we believe in
  our product and good old-fashioned customer service.

Okay, now you have to add spice, or the hook— the unique angle.
You’re dedicated to productivity, speed, and service. For a fraction of
what BigCo might quote for a new system, you will revolutionize the
customer’s business with profits, productivity, and volume.

All the customer has to do is— “Do the Math.”

That becomes your hook. It’s a good one, because it de-emphasizes
being big, established, safe, etc. It says, “If I can offer you my
unique solution to save you this much money— will you take a chance on
me?”

We’re skimming the surface, but at least now you’ve thought through
goal setting and creative planning for almost any video project, at
least those that are written before the shooting begins.

Now, HOW to write the words is another story, and one we’ll tell soon.

Want to see the video this story was actually based on? Go to http://www.vimeo.com/806538.

This has always been my Benchmark for snow that is just too darn late in the season.

Looking out my window now, and checking the date, I see that once again, we are past my benchmark, and it is snowing, and I remember back to that 1973 storm…

It was 9am the day of the storm and my business partner Ric and I were putting the finishing touches on a two-projector dissolve slide show we had produced for the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra. It had been reviewed and approved with a few changes the day before by the Symphony’s P.R. Director Andy Moquin. Those few changes kept us up all night re-laying out the slides, making a few subtle changes to the soundtrack (remember, this was all on audio tape), and reprogramming (or repulsing as we called it then) the show.

There was a deadline– 10am that day. Because that’s when we had to drive the gear and the show over to the Schlitz Clubhouse on Port Washington Rd. to unveil the show to the Symphony Women’s League at their annual fundraiser.

Fueled by Tostitos and Tab Soda, we made it. It was a clear day, no traffic, no problem.

There were a few speeches, an address by famed "Sing-Along" conductor Mitch Miller, who at the time was apparently a roving drive-by cheerleader for Symphony Fundraising campaigns, and finally– hours later– our show ran. It was a big success.

By this time we were pretty goofy from lack of sleep.

We commiserated, had our free cookies, packed up, headed out the back door, and then noticed the door wouldn’t open.

Two feet of snow.

Well, let me tell you– the small talk runs thin pretty quick when you are sleep deprived, 23 years old, and surrounded by the august members of the Women’s Symphony League. There were daughters of Beer Barons, descendants of heavy duty transformer companies, foundries, leather tanning companies, you name it.

They got tired of telling us how wonderful we were, and we got tired of hearing it (okay, not really, but the conversation slowed quickly. They just didn’t really know what to make of us. They kept asking us where our fathers were, assuming we couldn’t possibly be old enough to do what we were doing.)

Finally, being that we were in the Schlitz Clubhouse, a Beer baron descendant saw fit to break open the industrial sized cooler in the kitchen. Yes, we drank Schlitz.

Conversation loosened (mostly a blur) and suddenly, it was two hours later and a path had been plowed. We made our way to Ric’s Chevy Blazer and set off to our small office to unpack and call it a week.

Mitch Miller was none too happy, however. He was due in St. Paul at 4pm and that wasn’t happening. No cell phones. No iPods. No laptops. No PDAs. Just Mitch and the ladies.

And he didn’t drink.

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