Tag Archives: screenwriting

Awesome Dialog Tips From Karl Iglesias!

Here the author of Writing for Emotional Impact, one of the most game-changing books I’ve read on screenwriting, discusses some common dialog mistakes and how to fix them!

Moving Forward With Backstory?

A screenplay is not a novel, right? Especially for us spec (unpaid until and unless someone likes your work) screenwriters, page count is a huge consideration. While many of the current top-earners at the box office are running well over two hours, we’re still hammered with the notion that 120 pages (at one page per minute of screen time) is too long. 110 is better. Under 100 is ideal.

So, after we’ve strived to keep the description terse and make the dialog lean and to-the-point, comes the brutal rewrite step of “killing your darlings,” “love cutting,” whatever cutesy phrase you want to use. It’s time to remove everything that isn’t absolutely crucial to getting the story across. This puts a lot of pieces on the chopping block, and according to many, one of the first things to go should be extraneous backstory, which frequently shakes out to mean – any backstory at all.

Backstory is the childhood trauma that made it impossible for her to trust anyone. It’s the toy his father gave him at age 5 that he would kill to hold on to. It’s that “thing” that happened in the war. It’s the “what” from the past that supplies the “why” in the present. And therein lies the problem. Its purpose is to tell the audience something, which we should always avoid in favor of showing them. (Like in a flashback? Come on, get serious.) And what’s worse, it’s telling something that’s outside the story’s timeline. Can you hear the guillotine dropping?

It’s said that backstory is essential knowledge for the writer, in properly fleshing out the characters before the writing begins, but that’s largely where its usefulness ends. Little if any of it should make it into the actual script. The character’s traits guide his/her/its actions, which drive the plot, which tells the story, or something like that.

So, I’m thinking that backstory should only creep in to plug any logic holes about why a character is taking certain actions, and only if leaving it out would render the character under-developed and lead the reader/audience to start asking those horrible “why would they…” questions. But just where is that line of necessity?

Is the fact that there’s a certain burning question on the audience’s mind about the origins of certain relationships, attitudes, and current happenings enough to justify the inclusion of slivers of backstory? What if these characters are in a peculiar situation, doing and saying unusual things, and something in their collective past will explain it all? Is such curiosity a handy, if a little sadistic (which I’m not against) tool to keep them engaged in the story? Or will it just be distracting and frustrating?

I know we should never aim to answer every question and tie up every loose end, but I’m wondering if too much is left unsaid about how these people got to where they are, and I wonder if a little more background is necessary to get the audience emotionally involved in what they see happening in the present.

Anyway, I’m about to send it out for the second round of notes, and I’ll let them be my guide. For now I’m sticking with convention and erring on the side of omission, for the sake of my instincts and my page count. If I’m getting consistent feedback from multiple sources demanding answers the the same chasms of information, I’ll sprinkle some more in there.

What do you think? How much backstory should go in there, and how much should be withheld? And how much do specific factors like genre, style, and idiosyncrasy play a role in this? Let me know below!

Tarantino’s Writing Process!

Love him or hate him, this guy is one of the most influential screenwriters living today. This is the best peek at his process I’ve ever seen.

Review: Tough Love Screenwriting: The Real Deal From A Twenty-Year Pro by John Jarrell

Well, I feel like I’m about to explain a lot about something that doesn’t require much explaining. (What does that say about me as a writer? Oh well, let’s press on.) We find ourselves buried in books on HOW TO WRITE, and when I review them, I try to own up to my responsibility to inform you about which aspects of the skill set are emphasized, from what angle the author approaches the writing process, what individual styles and tastes it might cater to or not, etc. Here, we have a very different specimen. Tough Love Screenwriting: The Real Deal From A Twenty-Year Pro by John Jarrell is about BEING A SCREENWRITER. That’s a different matter entirely, and the title couldn’t possibly do a better job of stating exactly what you’re in for.

Maybe you’ve picked up a few vague tips and pointers about the film/TV business as the closing thoughts or afterward of other screenwriting books; clues about making sales, getting writing assignments, and networking in general, but don’t they all seem to have a “from the outside, looking in” flavor (begging the question of whether or how often the authors have actually achieved these feats)? Enter John Jarrell, a man who’s been there, done that, and is generously (?) willing to dish it all out, raw and unfiltered.

Jarrell pops the hood, pulls the curtain back, gives us a peek through the keyhole, pick your cliche, exposing the Hollywood screenwriting mechanism exactly as he’s experienced it. Tough Love‘s tone is playfully brutal and the veracity is beyond question. Nothing with this disorderly blend of starry-eyed triumph and gut-wrenching, disillusioning, debacles could possibly be made up. All of this, combined with Jarrell’s sharp, snarky delivery, and you could say that the entertainment value alone is worth the price, but that’s not nearly the crowning virtue of this book, not for anyone who wants into the business.

The true value here is the insights into the Hollywood system. All of the stuff you haven’t thought of yet – the anatomy of deals, the influence that one person’s mental disorder can have on a production, the system for deciding who gets writing credit on a movie and why it matters, how to conduct yourself in the face of clueless and vindictive development execs, and a host of other survival skills that you won’t find mentioned in any other screenwriting literature I know about.

But don’t take all of this to mean that it’s all abstract, “down-the-road” stuff. There’s plenty for us aspirers to chew on as well. This book induced me to incorporate several extremely beneficial things into my writing education and habits. Among them, I read Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting by Syd Field, studied and gained a greater understanding of craft from the Training Day screenplay, and began using the classic note card method. These examples alone have immeasurably moved my writing forward.

And that about does it. I warned you about the over-explaining. If you want the straight dope from someone who is where so many of us want to be, this one is not to be missed.

Review: Writing for Emotional Impact by Karl Iglesias

We as new screenwriters are filled to the brim with questions about how to do it “right.” Does my structure dovetail perfectly into the standard template? Do I have enough white space? Do I need this supporting character? How much back story is necessary for the protag’s mother?

As I learn more and more, and look back at my journey thus far, I find I’ve spent a lot of time asking the wrong questions. My greatest leaps in knowledge and craft have come when I made some major course correction regarding my approach to the writing process. Lately I’ve been lucky to experience several of these thanks to Karl IglesiasWriting for emotional impact : advanced dramatic techniques to attract, engage, and fascinate the reader from beginning to end.

If you’re someone who’s leafed all through the big-name how-to classics, and seemingly learned everything there is to know about story structure, character profiles, plot and subplot mapping, and genre conventions, then you’re exactly who this book was written for! It comes at the whole paradigm from a fresh new angle that’s the creative equivalent of nine hours’ sleep followed by a hot oil massage.

Right out of the gate, Iglesias‘ focus is on the step where the screenwriting rubber meets the road, the emotional effect of the script. Yeah, that’s not a mistake, and you read it right. I meant the script. The point is emphasized that, while it’s a blueprint for an eventual movie, the critical point in the process for us is how the words on the page strike that initial gatekeeper, the (probably assistant or intern to) the producer/ studio head/ financier/ whoever, and sway his/ her decision about whether it’s worthy of getting off the ground in the first place. It’s not good enough to spout, “Just wait till you see it on screen. It’ll knock your socks off!” It’s unlikely to get that far if the read was a lifeless chore to that first reader. His or hers are the socks that must be jettisoned. Pretty insightful perspective, huh? Maybe that revelation alone is worth the price of admission. But we’re just getting started here. The meat of the book consists of telling us how to do it.

As a script reader himself, Iglesias offers the candid inside word on their circumstances, mindset, approach and visceral reactions (which are the reactions that count) when they read our work. He then proceeds to lay out the emotional triggers that are tripped by the best of the best scripts, and how we may achieve them in our own writing.

In all of your reading, podcasts, webinars, seminars, courses, and meet-up groups; how much attention have you really placed on how your work will make the reader feel? What about how that will interact with the characters’ emotions? Do you know which emotional reactions are the most gripping and memorable, and will get your script noticed? Did you know that the simplest of edits and alterations can transform an empty, throw-away beat into something super-engaging that keeps them turning pages? Have you ever approached your writing or editing with these things in mind? This is what you’re going to get from this book.

Whether starting from the initial spark of an idea, or slogging through the rewrite process, there seems to be a certain hierarchy of script writing factors that, if followed in order of importance, can provide an extremely useful, time and grief-saving workflow for building or rebuilding your story. Iglesias’ book is laid out in an optimal flow for not only readability, but workability. It starts with the most broad strokes such as concept and overall story, then filters down to the later-stage fine-tuning of description, dialog, etc. It’s not something to be read, absorbed, and shelved. If you’re really serious, it’ll serve as a manual and roadmap, constantly at your side as you write.

Needless to say, I can’t recommend this book enough. My only caveat would be that, as the subtitle indicates, these are advanced techniques, and meant to be broached once you have a working understanding of the screenwriting basics. So, while I might (and only might) not make this my first book on the craft, my collection would be severely lacking without it.

Save the Cat! Story Structure Software 3.0 Review

For the present day screenwriter, the notion of a writing workflow devoid of software has gone the way of, well, the typewriter. Not only is a screenwriting application absolutely vital to proper formatting of the script itself (only a crazy person would type it out on a standard word processor and manually tab, indent, and capitalize to fit industry standards), but there are software suites available for practically every component of the process; outlining, plotting, word-smithing, character profiling, location visualization, you name it. Each of these steps can be ironed out more smoothly and efficiently with the aid of a specialized program as a guide or assistant. Of course one of the most important and challenging bumps in the road from idea to movie is story structure. In this area, many of us can use all the help we can get. It would be great to have a software program to organize, plan, strategize, and map out our structure in a clean and orderly way. Enter Save the Cat! Story Structure Software 3.0.

Let’s get this out of the way first thing. Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat! books are the subject of some controversy in the screenwriting world. Some find STC’s accessible and grounded approach of applying proven story principles derived by reverse engineering some highly successful blockbusters to be extremely useful. Others call it rote, overly-formulaic, and stifling in its rigid “rules” of screenplay construction. Regardless of where you stand on this, the STC Story Structure Software is a truly modular tool that can provide some monumentally time-saving hacks in getting you to your destination, wherever that may be. How rigidly you stick to the method and philosophy detailed in the STC books is entirely up to you. This program is a great boon to anyone, including those who choose to abandon Snyder’s approach altogether.

The only “mandatory steps of the process” are the first few, which involve filling in a title, logline (for which templates are available), genre (which is an interesting classification unique to STC, not your typical genre labels), and approximate page count. These can be quite helpful to start on the right foot, or they can simply be fudged for later modification, and then you’re off to the races…

There is also an outlining, or “beats” area, which many find a helpful starting point. In addition to listing the beats, you can produce, edit, and update catalogs of characters, locations, setups, and payoffs. You can easily toggle between these lists for referencing, rearranging, troubleshooting, or whatever you need to do.

The main thrust of the software is that it serves as a digital means to plot out your script on a set of virtual index cards laid out in the “board area.” This practice was first made famous in Syd Field‘s Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting, and while I agree that there’s no substitute for real, physical cards, their editable electronic counterpart is a welcome supplement. There are a number of valuable features added to the layout here. Each card is an interface that can be marked with various story devices, such as the emotional arc of the scene, setup and payoff bridges between scenes or sequences, and which plot (A,B,C, etc.) is served by the particular card. This all allows some hyper-meticulous plot planning, if that’s your thing.

We all know that the writing process entails “killing our darlings,” or removing anything that doesn’t serve the story, even if we’d rather not do so. For all of those elements that we know we should cut, but see some chance for their resurrection in a different form or maybe a different scene later on, there’s the “Litter Box.” Here you can temporarily discard scene cards, while keeping track of where they came from in the structure. Simply drag and drop them in.

If you can’t wait any more, and those perfectly planned-out scenes are screaming to get out of you, there is a script window, complete with sluglines generated from the scene headings courtesy of the cards on your board, where you can begin to write the screenplay itself, and at any time you can export it to Final Draft and continue there. The downside here is that the formatting, while not completely manual, isn’t quite as automated as in Final Draft or other screenwriting programs. It takes a bit more work on your part to keep it straight (lots of pressing “tab.”) If that works for you, have at it!

Now we come to the window where I’ve admittedly spent most of my time; the general notes section. This is simply a digital free-hand bulletin board where you can place infinite, color-coded, virtual post-its to organize your thoughts, store referential materials, and basically pour your subjective process out onto the interface in whatever fashion you choose. External files in nearly any multimedia format can be attached here, and linked to scene cards in the board to customize a story logic web, attach research data to your outline, or just keep yourself on track with simple self-generated reminders. It also includes a “Greenlight Checklist,” formulated by Snyder in Save the Cat!® Strikes Back: More Trouble for Screenwriters to Get into … and Out of, of factors that he deemed important waypoints in the story. You can refer to it or not, but it’s there!

And there you have it, folks. These are the main features of Save the Cat! Story Structure Software 3.0. Some of the big-picture features include the option to backup and retrieve from the Save the Cat! online storage cloud for use on multiple devices, a special function to send and retrieve it from your iPhone version of the app, and the ability to import from and export to Final Draft.

I have found this program hugely helpful in my writing process, and it’s always open in the background as I’m banging away on my script. It’s what I look to in order to stay on course, and where I log my progress, sticking points, and session agendas. One minor gripe is that it’s not the most intuitive software I’ve ever used, and took some getting used to in terms of usability. But, beyond that point, it’s been a key contributor to my process. Regardless of your method or objectives, I believe it can be the same for you.

The Rewrite Workflow Labyrinth

First, the good news: I’ve reached a magical milestone in my rewrite. I’ve completed a draft that, if a deadline were imposed on me today, I could submit without utter shame and embarrassment (only predominant shame and embarrassment).

This comes after a protracted slog to align the plot of my story to the point where a reader could get from Fade In to Fade Out, and and have a fairly clear sense of what had happened. The disposable henchmen have consistent names and actions despite their relative unimportance, the events of one scene don’t obviously counteract or undermine those of a previous one, the payoffs are more or less set up and vice versa, and the main characters are somehow different at the end than they were in the beginning as a result of what’s happened to them. (Of course, this is according to my own judgement of my own work. Am I right? That’s for the next guy to decide in the upcoming phase: getting external feedback.)

As I reach this point of the game, a lesson emerges that I believe will be of extreme importance to my career: How could I have gotten here sooner? What if I were on, say, a realistic professional screenwriting timeline? I’d need to come to these answers and solutions that I’ve pored over for months and months in a matter of weeks.

My process thus far has worked like this: write a draft, find a problem, brainstorm some solutions, mull it over, do other stuff while continuing to mull it over, brainstorm some more solutions, get inspired, rewrite the scene. Now, this has been a wonderful experience of exploring and cultivating my creative inspiration, but it’s not gonna cut in a business of strict, merciless deadlines. So…

This is the tough part when it comes to formulating some kind of regular streamlined system for working out these issues: it seems to be a highly subjective element. I’ve delved into many writing books and a few courses, and I’m afraid the magic bullet isn’t in there. While they do an awesome job getting us acquainted with structure, theme, characters, and all the stuff that makes up the initial steps of deciding what to write, banging out the first draft, and some very broad-stroke rewrite guidelines, they don’t quite get us to where we can confidently and consistently tackle and eliminate more intricate story problems with ease. I think the reason for this is that there is no magic bullet. There are likely as many workable processes for this as there are professional writers.

However, there’s more good news, maybe. I have no doubt I’ll be faster on my next script purely from some lessons learned on this one, even if I didn’t change anything about my process. Ironically, it seems that it’ll just take time and patience to get faster. But more importantly, perhaps the mere identification of this as a screenwriting puzzle to solve is a crucial first step. This awareness and the desire to work out an efficient scheme to put out the best material I can in short order should put me on the right track to improve this facet of my writing. After all, what else can I do about it?

How about you? What’s your rewriting system? What’s the big, obvious answer that I’m missing? Let me know below!

Too Many Steps?

A movie is a story, and a story is a journey, right? We (usually) want to relate to a hero on a quest to accomplish something. We want to see the struggles, the triumphs, the defeats, the

levities, the tragedies, and the breakthroughs that befall our hero along every step of the odyssey. Well, surely not every step. And here

in lies today’s issue…

Am I including too many incremental nudges toward

the end game, and bogging down my plot?

There’s a fine line between showing what’s necessary, so as not to leave logic gaps and have the audience scratching their collective head, wondering how point A lead to this point C, without the necessary point B (and maybe also wondering why bother to continue reading/ watching); and slogging through mindless and unessential details, painstakingly and pitifully trying to address every last doubt about the story’s logical credibility and plead with the audience, “It all makes sense, I promise! Please like me, and my story!”

I’m just not sure where that line is…

Do we need to see the discovery, analysis, and follow-up of EVERY single clue in the course of the investigation?  Surely some can be implied, or presented in retrospective dialog (without being overly-expository, of course), but which ones? Where’s that threshold of relevance that tells me if it should be shown or referenced?

I’m going through my scenes, and attempting to elevate the drama in each of them to ensure that every moment matters, and I can’t help but question whether a few of them should just go. I know some schools of thought say that as soon as the question enters your mind, cut it; but I’m not so sure my instincts are honed to that level.

On this pass, my emphasis will be on making sure something (somewhat) vital is introduced into the story at each turn that we actually see (read). And, for now, I’m pretty much leaving it all in, because…

This puppy is almost ready for another set of eyes to scour it for faults. I’ll be trusting in that step to solve some of the aforementioned riddles. I’m just hoping for some sweet, sweet consistency in the notes, particularly about issues like this one. If three people are telling me that we don’t need to see the helpful rent-a-car clerk expounding that one suspicious transaction, then I’ll have my answer.

Anyway, your thoughts? Let me know below!

The Magnificent Seven Review: Who Are These Guys, Anyway?

(Spoiler-free, until otherwise indicated.)

Well, let’s get this out of the way first; I’m a massive fan of Kurosawa’s original telling of this story in 1954, The Seven Samurai, and I think the first Magnificent Seven in 1960 is a clinical case study of how to modernize, remake, and refashion a great story for an expanded audience by preserving its potency and seamlessly adding some new qualities that make it a triumph in its own right.

In case you’re unfamiliar with this tale (I’ll reserve judgment), it centers on a rag-tag group of skilled but hapless gunfighters who agree to take on a long-shot mission to protect a poor village of defenseless peasants against a vicious criminal and his army of gunmen.

Upon hearing of this remake, I was beyond excited, for some very specific reasons. These days, remakes are spewing out of the studios like so many bodily secretions, but without the same fulfillment of an actual purpose. BUT, I arrived at the IMDB page of this announced production by scouring the upcoming projects of one Nic Pizzolatto, writer of True Detective: Season 1, one of the most incredibly-written, and virtuosically executed works ever produced. (Let’s not talk about Season 2.)

As the months tick by, I find out that the cast will be lead by Denzel Washington, reunited with director Antoine Fuqua and co-star Ethan Hawke from Training Day, along with Korean superstar Byung-hun Lee, Vincent D’Onofrio, Chris Pratt, the list goes on. Well, needless to say, I was over the moon. Let’s run through the inventory of gear this film was packing to make it great: a fantastic writer, a super-cool director, a killer cast, and a proven concept that had already been pulled off to perfection, twice! Was there finally going to be a movie in the theater that would be worth the price of admission?!

Then that first trailer hit…

I knew right away something wasn’t right. I can tell you the exact moment my dreams were shattered. It was Chris Pratt’s line, “God dangit, I’m good!” Ugh. We all know that one line of dialog, that is deemed to be trailer-worthy, can tell you volumes about a movie. This one belongs in such fare as The Expendables, or some other action romp that substitutes cornball quips for genuine character relationships and organic chemistry.

Aside from that, it looked really, really actiony, which… fair enough… it does all boil down to an epic throw-down between seven gunfighters and an army of bad guys. BUT… the flashy acrobatics and intricate choreography is more reminiscent of John Woo in his heyday, or the latest Fast and/ or Furious installment, than any of the greats in its own genre. (During the movie, it really bothered me that, in this world, it seems to be utterly impossible to re-holster a revolver without twirling it first.) These factors in that first peek were enough to shake my excitement. My expectations dropped through the floor.

So, how about what actually counts: the movie?  Well, surprisingly, it’s nearly the best case scenario…

I say ‘nearly,’ because best-case would’ve been that all that stuff in the trailer was entirely misleading and absent from the final film, leaving a rough and gritty Western about the bonds that form between warriors who have reached the limits of their ethical nihilism and unite for a common moral purpose, along with some stuff about redemption and revenge.

While I didn’t get that, I did enjoy it much more than expected, especially after the trailer and a pretty dismal first impression…

It opens with a display of cruelty by the villain against the town of sheepish innocents, that’s so hackneyed, clichéd and nauseatingly predictable, you could almost act it out right along with them.

But things look up after that and it plays out quite as expected. It’s a fun, action-packed ride with many enjoyable and satisfying moments, some low points that are nearly cringe-worthy, and not a lot of depth.

And that brings us to the real problem with the piece. This is where the original(s) truly shined, and what really left me wanting with this one: I didn’t get to know the Magnificent Seven.

This is a group of extraordinary men whose characters are defined by the decision, by each of them, to throw off a carefree frontier life and commit to a suicide mission. Why would they do that? What would change their minds? These questions are the real reason to watch this movie, and they’re mostly glossed-over in short exchanges of a few lines that end with the new recruit uttering “Okay, sure.” I need more than that to care about these guys when the bullets start flying.

Now, balancing this necessary proportion of character development between seven people in a 2-hour (+) movie is no easy task, but, as mentioned, there’s more than sufficient precedent showing it can be done!

(Spoilers ahead)

Of course, all seven guys don’t make it out alive. This type of story necessitates that they don’t. It’s a tale of self-sacrifice for an altruistic cause, or the ultimate test of one’s combative skills, however the individual character sees it. (The fact that we’re not sure which way most of them felt highlights the problem.)

In the original Seven, when the likes of Charles Bronson and James Coburn start getting picked off, I genuinely felt sad, because I’d learned enough about each of to have an emotional stake in their survival.

In this one, even the death of Ethan Hawke, the most fleshed-out among them other than Denzel, did nothing to me. So there was no chance of feeling anything when Vincent D’Onofrio, Chris Pratt, or Byung-hun Lee buy it.

(End of spoilers)

So, there you have it. Worth seeing? Sure. Will it meet the expectations of genre fans? No way. And with everything it had going for it, there’s no excuse for it not being an instant classic.

 

 

 

Review: How to Kick Writer’s Block in the @$% by Michael Rogan

Thus far, I’ve never really been a sufferer of writer’s block. No, my main hangups could be better described as your garden-variety procrastination and mild resistance (blowing off writing to clean the house, clear out my inbox, watch the barking cat video one more time, etc.). But, I’m never one to pass up any opportunity to learn something about my chosen craft, especially from a source I can count on for accessible, down-and-dirty, practical, and extremely useful content. That source is Michael Rogan. (He’s also one of the most qualified human beings on the planet to hash out the niceties of writer’s block – more on this below.)

Michael is the Head Hancho Publisher over at ScriptBully, a writing consultation company that specializes in cutting straight to the chase in assisting screenwriters at every level move their careers forward (or at least nudge ’em out of a standstill). They’ve got it all – online courses, seminars, consultation services, and plenty of sweet books. The resources tackle a wide range of screenwriting angles, from devising and refining your initial idea for a movie, to the pure nuts-and-bolts formatting of the script.

So, I was excited to hear about the newest installment, How to Kick Writer’s Block in the @$%, and jumped at the chance to pick up a copy.  As usual, this volume doesn’t disappoint.

Michael expounds in his usual style of keeping it terse and to-the-point, but interlacing the material with surprising depth. There are also plenty of humorous quips along the way, keeping it light and enjoyable. He starts with a brief overview of the physiological/ psychological causes of writer’s block, without getting overly technical and losing the reader. Then, we’re off to the races…

What’s offered is a wealth of tools to throw in the box, for aspects such as maintaining mental focus, keeping a diligent writing schedule, maximizing your output, seeing projects through to the end, and most importantly – enjoying the process!

I’m new to these exercises, but I can tell you I’ve already incorporated a few of them (one of which is being accomplished right now) and I believe they’ll have a great impact, not only on my results, but on my writing experience overall. They’re simple, immediately integrable, and the benefits are often readily apparent. They consist of creating the optimum physical, mental, emotional, and logistical conditions to elevate your writing workflow. Nothing is crammed down your throat. The option is left entirely to you to pick, choose, and customize the tips to suit your purposes.

Last, and possibly least, depending on your outlook; Michael is especially credible on this issue, having suffered through a six-year bout with writer’s block. As an epilogue, he includes the excruciating blow-by-blow account of how it happened and how he came out a professional writer on the other side. It’s a fascinating and, for me, oddly comforting story that really puts things into perspective.

If you’re a writer of any variety (this isn’t only for the “screen-types”), this book will serve as an enjoyable read and invaluable resource. You will certainly not regret picking it up. And you can’t beat the price!