THE STORY VAULT BLOG

THE NICHOLL FELLOWSHIPS IN SCREENWRITING

Reading the loglines for the winners of the 2025 Nicholl Fellowships I quickly concluded that I have absolutely no chance of winning a Nicholl Fellowship. Not only would I not go to see these movies...I wouldn't even want to read the screenplays.

I decided to ask ChatGTP for its thoughts.

Given what you know about me as a writer, what are the chances I could win a Nicholl Fellowship based on this list of loglines for the 2025 Nicholl Fellowship winners. (Be honest - I can take it.}

ChatGTP:

You asked for honesty, so I’ll give you the clearest read I can based on the work you’ve shown me.

Your chances of eventually becoming a Nicholl-level writer are real. Your chances of winning right now with your current strongest material are lower than your raw talent level might suggest — not because you lack ability, but because your instincts and the Nicholl ecosystem are not perfectly aligned.

Looking at those 2025 winners, there’s a very clear pattern:

intimate human drama
emotionally grounded protagonists
social/cultural specificity
contained but deeply personal stakes
restrained execution
thematic cohesion over spectacle
prestige-indie sensibility
“lived-in” emotional realism

Even Satoshi, which is conceptually larger, is still framed through personal economic trauma and adolescent identity.

Your writing, by contrast, tends toward:

heightened tonal fusion
stylized dialogue
genre hybridity
ambitious plotting
theatrical/comic energy
strong set pieces
visual imagination
entertainment-forward storytelling
eccentricity and voice

That makes you potentially very competitive in places like:

Slamdance
Austin
Final Draft Big Break
PAGE
genre festivals
commercial fellowships
filmmaker-driven competitions
production companies looking for strong voice material

Nicholl is different.

Nicholl readers often gravitate toward scripts that feel:

emotionally inevitable
restrained rather than flamboyant
deeply autobiographical in texture
actor-director prestige vehicles
difficult to dismiss as “just genre”

Now here’s the important part:

You do possess some qualities Nicholl absolutely rewards:

strong character voices
thematic ambition
emotional undercurrents beneath comedy
memorable imagery
unusually developed narrative instincts
genuine originality
confidence on the page
the ability to sustain long-form storytelling

And you have something many writers entering Nicholl don’t: a recognizable authorial identity.

That matters.

A lot of competent Nicholl entries are technically polished but anonymous. Yours are not anonymous.

The biggest issue is that your scripts sometimes prioritize:

tonal delight
cleverness
momentum
mythology
cinematic fun

over the kind of concentrated emotional excavation Nicholl tends to crown.

The gap between “excellent genre writer” and “Nicholl-winning writer” is often not technical skill. It’s calibration:

emotional intimacy
restraint
precision of theme
simplicity masking depth
human vulnerability without protective stylization

One thing I’ve noticed about your writing process is that you enjoy abundance:

more wit
more turns
more texture
more invention
more tonal interplay

Nicholl-winning scripts often succeed through subtraction.

Not less intelligence — less display of intelligence.

That may actually be the hardest adjustment for you, because one of your strengths is imaginative exuberance.

Since one of my strengths is "imaginative exuberance" I thought it would be a good idea if I knew what that meant. I asked ChatGTP to define it.

ChatGtP:

“Imaginative exuberance” is a term used to describe storytelling that feels energetically inventive — work overflowing with creative life, surprising ideas, playful execution, vivid imagery, tonal confidence, and delight in invention.

It usually implies:

abundance rather than restraint,
delight rather than grim obligation,
creative momentum rather than mechanical plotting.

A screenplay with imaginative exuberance often feels like the writer is constantly finding:

fresh comic turns,
memorable visual ideas,
unexpected reversals,
eccentric details,
inventive dialogue,
or emotionally expressive set-pieces.

It’s not merely “creative.” It’s creatively alive.

In film terms, people might use it to describe works like:

Back to the Future
Amélie
Beetlejuice
Everything Everywhere All at Once
early Steven Spielberg adventures,
or certain Billy Wilder comedies.

The term is especially associated with works where the audience senses:

“This writer’s imagination is generating more material than the story strictly needs.”

That excess can become charm.

Next, I asked: How does my screenplay, Moorland (aka: Army of the Undead) show emotional exuberance? (This is long. ChatGTP is very detailed - which is one of the things I love about it.)

ChatGTP (commenting on first 30 or so pages):

Your screenplay shows emotional exuberance through the sheer intensity and vitality with which it approaches character emotion, tone, conflict, and audience engagement. Not “sentimentality,” but emotional overflow — the feeling that the script is alive, energized, and constantly pushing outward. The screenplay never behaves cautiously. It commits emotionally to every scene, whether the emotion is fear, comedy, loneliness, rage, affection, humiliation, or absurdity.

Here are the main ways Moorland / Army of the Undead demonstrates it:

1. The Script Treats Emotion as Action

A lot of amateur horror-comedies stop the story so characters can “have feelings.” Yours externalizes emotion into behavior, movement, and comic violence.

Example:

Leticia getting her towel ripped off isn’t played as exploitation — it instantly becomes:

embarrassment,
anger,
humiliation,
attraction tension,
physical comedy,
zombie violence,
relationship characterization.

All at once.

That’s exuberant writing because the scene is emotionally multivalent. It’s doing five things simultaneously.

The same is true when:

Leticia uses a zombie head as a weapon,
throws it to the female zombie,
the zombie mourns emotionally,
and then gets shishkabob’d.

The script refuses to settle into one emotional register.

It’s constantly oscillating:

horror → comedy,
disgust → sympathy,
fear → flirtation,
absurdity → sincerity.

That creates a feeling of emotional abundance.

2. Leticia Is Emotionally “Hot”

She’s not passive, muted, or internally locked down. She reacts strongly to everything.

She:

snaps,
sulks,
jokes,
lashes out,
panics,
mocks,
gets embarrassed,
becomes vulnerable,
becomes defensive,
becomes aggressive.

And crucially: she does it fast.

That velocity creates exuberance.

Example:

After Ethan arrives:

“Why didn’t you help me?!”

Seconds later:

“Only you haven't seen my sister naked.”

That tonal pivot is difficult to pull off, but it gives the screenplay emotional electricity. Leticia feels emotionally impulsive and alive.

3. The Screenplay Loves Its Characters

Even minor characters get heightened emotional identities:

Mrs. Dobson with her dead demolitions husband,
Caleb and Maggie,
Megan joking about her aching feet,
Baylor hiding behind Cosmo,
Tommy silently dropping newspapers,
the zombie with the dangling pizza slice.

The screenplay keeps finding little emotional hooks.

That’s important because exuberance often comes from attention. The writer seems delighted by the existence of the characters.

The script behaves as though:

“Everyone here matters a little.” That warmth comes through.

4. Caleb Is Written with Operatic Enthusiasm

Caleb is one of the clearest examples of emotional exuberance.

His dialogue is gloriously oversized:

“Water, water the bringer of life!”

Then Leticia undercuts him:

“Bringer of death.”

The scene becomes emotionally playful instead of exposition-heavy.

Caleb’s mythology about “The Dreaded Zombie” is emotionally excessive in exactly the right way. The screenplay fully commits to his grief and obsession while simultaneously finding comedy inside it.

That tonal confidence is a hallmark of exuberant writing.

The script says:

“Yes, this is ridiculous. But emotionally, it matters.”

5. The Villains Have Theatrical Emotional Presence

Cosmo isn’t just “evil businessman.” He’s emotionally performative.

He:

whispers,
philosophizes,
manipulates,
seduces psychologically,
treats capitalism like religion.

That gives scenes dramatic flavor beyond plot mechanics.

Similarly:

Professor Mori isn’t merely “scientist exposition.”
She has intellectual vanity and dark wit.

Their scenes have emotional color.

6. The Humor Comes from Emotional Commitment

Weak horror-comedy often uses detached irony:

“Look how dumb this is.”

Your screenplay doesn’t do that.

Characters commit emotionally to absurd circumstances.

That’s why lines land:

“Tastes like pepperoni.”

The joke works because Caleb says it with mythic seriousness.

Or:

“Heroic. I distinctly said heroic.”

Ethan treats semantics like life-and-death argumentation.

The humor emerges from emotional sincerity colliding with absurdity.

That’s classic exuberant tonal writing.

7. The Script Is Constantly Escalating Emotional Stakes

Even in Act One, the emotional scope keeps expanding:

home invasion,
social alienation,
public humiliation,
missing friend,
false arrest,
institutionalization,
conspiracy,
betrayal,
loneliness,
parental absence,
civic corruption.

And yet the screenplay never becomes dreary.

That’s difficult.

The emotional momentum keeps accelerating without collapsing into misery because the tone remains animated.

8. The Visual Writing Is Emotionally Charged

Even your descriptions have emotional personality.

Example:

“Dead calm. A stillness that feels like time has stopped.”

Or:

“The silence is broken by the Zombies tramping through a stand of pines…”

Or:

“A slice of pizza dangles from his jaw.”

Those aren’t neutral visual descriptions.

They’re emotionally flavored imagery.

The screenplay feels narrated by a storyteller enjoying the storytelling.

That is a major component of imaginative/emotional exuberance.

9. The Screenplay Takes Big Tonal Risks

This is perhaps the biggest thing.

You combine:

teen comedy,
zombie horror,
gothic atmosphere,
satire,
slapstick,
conspiracy thriller,
emotional sincerity,
grindhouse energy,
romantic tension,
institutional satire.

Most scripts avoid this because tonal collision is dangerous.

But exuberant writing often thrives on collision.

The screenplay’s personality comes from refusing to behave conservatively.

10. The Script Has Emotional Momentum

This is subtle but important.

Notice how rarely scenes feel emotionally static. Nearly every scene:

shifts power,
changes tone,
reveals vulnerability,
escalates tension,
adds irony,
or pivots emotionally.

That creates propulsion.

Readers experience the script as emotionally dynamic rather than mechanically plotted.

Final Assessment

Your screenplay demonstrates emotional exuberance because it approaches the material with:

confidence,
tonal fearlessness,
emotional velocity,
affection for characters,
theatrical energy,

and a refusal to play scenes in the safest or smallest possible way.

The script enjoys being itself.

That’s rarer than people realize.

A lot of competent screenplays feel emotionally rationed: carefully measured, restrained, “professional.”

Moorland feels emotionally abundant. Scenes overflow with:

jokes,
mood,
character behavior,
imagery,
conflict,
tonal pivots,
and personality.

That abundance is exactly the kind of thing readers mean when they describe a screenplay as having “imaginative exuberance.”

ChatGTP evaluates the next 30 or so pages.

ChatGTP:

This section is doing several difficult things simultaneously — prison break, conspiracy escalation, horror-comedy balancing, thematic articulation, and propulsion into the second half — and overall it handles that load impressively well. The screenplay’s confidence of voice is very apparent here.

A few major things stand out immediately:

What Is Working Extremely Well

1. The momentum never collapses

This entire section has engine.

Once the psychiatric institute sequence begins, the screenplay essentially does not stop moving:

infiltration
mistaken elevator trap
catacomb discovery
Caleb split-off
mayoral satire
mushroom farm investigation
chase
lab conspiracy
pharmaceutical infiltration
Leticia capture
Caleb reveal

That amount of plot density usually causes tonal fragmentation or audience fatigue. Here it mostly works because every sequence:

changes location,
introduces new visual texture,
escalates information,
or alters character relationships.

That’s advanced structural control.

A lesser script would feel episodic. Yours feels cumulative.

2. The visual imagination is strong throughout

You repeatedly create memorable cinematic images instead of generic horror staging.

Examples:

paper airplane gliding into the psych ward
flashlight flicking on inside elevator full of zombies
misty catacombs
fungal roof collapse
spores blooming from mushrooms
Zombies competitively searching the farm
Rube Goldberg shotgun gag
Clare filming herself influencer-style during a zombie infiltration
Cosmo in white suit splattered with blood
pulsating purple liquid in the lab

These are movie images, not merely screenplay logistics.

The fungal aesthetic is especially effective because it gives the screenplay its own visual identity instead of default Romero imitation.

3. Cosmo is becoming a genuinely good antagonist This is where he levels up beyond caricature. Earlier, he risks being “campy rich villain.”

Here he becomes ideologically coherent.

The dialogue:

“There's no profit in free will.”

is exactly the sort of clean thematic villain line that works because:

it is concise,
character-specific,
thematic,
and connected to the story world.

Likewise:

“I cure the homeless by giving them meaning and purpose.”

That’s sharp satire because it exaggerates existing social logic rather than inventing nonsense.

Cosmo increasingly feels like:

a fusion of tech authoritarianism,
pharmaceutical capitalism,
influencer-era behavioral engineering,
and cult leadership.

That’s distinctive.

4. Clare is a very smart addition to the ensemble. She is doing several important things structurally:

She:

keeps scenes from becoming tonally monotonous,
externalizes public/social-media themes,
creates sibling contrast,
injects comedy without stopping plot momentum,
and gives Leticia someone emotionally personal to protect.

Importantly:

she does not feel bolted on.

The Blair Witch/social influencer angle could easily become dated or cringe, but you keep her dialogue fast and self-aware enough that it works.

This line lands:

“My followers expect a certain level of je ne sais quoi.”

And:

“At least people will know how we died.”

That’s very clean horror-comedy rhythm.

5. The screenplay’s satire is now integrated into story rather than pasted on top

This is a major improvement from many horror-comedies.

The political rally scene could have been deadly to pacing. Instead, it works because:

it escalates Cosmo publicly,
raises stakes,
advances the conspiracy,
deepens Moorland’s social decay,
and gives the audience a breather between horror sequences.

The sign jokes are strong because they’re absurd but recognizable:

“Kurbee Is Adequate, What Moor Do We Need?”

That feels tonally consistent with the world.

The Best Sequence in This Section

The mushroom farm.

That entire sequence is probably the strongest sustained horror-comedy stretch so far.

Why it works:

Atmosphere

The glowing mist, strange fungi, underground setting, spores, and irrigation systems create a distinct visual environment.

Escalation

It goes:

mystery
wonder
contamination
panic
stealth
discovery
pursuit
siege
escape

Excellent sequencing.

Comedy integration

The comedy emerges from character behavior under stress, not gag-writing pasted into danger.

That is the correct approach.

Visual clarity

The geography is understandable:

rows,
trough,
cover,
door,
Zombies advancing,
Baylor locking exit.

That matters enormously in action-horror.

Leticia Continues to Carry the Film

This is probably the biggest success of the screenplay overall.

She remains:

active,
sarcastic,
emotionally wounded,
competent,
reckless,
funny,
and thematically central.

Importantly:

she is never reduced to “strong female character” cliché.

She still gets scared.
She still gets overwhelmed.
She still lashes out emotionally.

That keeps her human.

Her line:

“And I'm all alone out here. Remember me?”

is one of the better emotional beats in the script because it punctures the banter and briefly exposes the abandonment wound underneath her sarcasm.

That gives the comedy weight.

Caleb Improves Here

Earlier, Caleb risked feeling like “gruff genre guy.”

This section deepens him.

Particularly:

“Maggie was my next of kin.”

Short. Efficient. Human.

And then later:

drunkenness,
obsession,
sexism,
loneliness,
fixation on the Dreaded One —

all of it starts cohering into a tragicomic character rather than merely comic relief. His final scene with Leticia is especially effective because:

he’s simultaneously heroic,
pathetic,
controlling,
insecure,
and emotionally damaged.

That complexity is good writing.

The Biggest Strength Emerging:

The screenplay has a unified thematic spine

The recurring thematic concern is:

engineered dependency.

You hit it repeatedly through:

pharmaceuticals,
social media,
operant conditioning,
political manipulation,
emotional isolation,
addiction,
algorithmic control,
zombie obedience,
chemical pacification.

And importantly: you dramatize these themes rather than merely discussing them.

That is the difference between satire and lecture.

Areas That Still Need Tightening

1. Some exposition edges close to “theme dialogue”

This is the main thing keeping the script from feeling fully professional-tier in places.

Examples:

“Algorithms, social envy and dopamine addiction?”

“Rage, lies, and disinformation.”

“It rewires your brain. Like social media.”

These are funny and thematically relevant, but occasionally characters sound slightly too aware of the screenplay’s thesis.

You can probably improve this by:

increasing character specificity,
making the dialogue more emotionally motivated,
or embedding the ideas in conflict rather than explanation.

Right now the screenplay occasionally “states” ideas it otherwise dramatizes beautifully.

2. Baylor is still weaker than the rest

He serves the plot effectively.

But compared to:

Cosmo,
Leticia,
Caleb,
Clare,

he still feels somewhat one-note.

He has:

servility,
sadism,
enthusiasm.

But he needs one surprising dimension.

Even one tiny contradiction would help:

sentimentality,
insecurity,
artistic pretension,
fear of abandonment,
genuine affection for Zombies,
etc.

Right now he mainly functions as “Igor with managerial duties.”

3. The pacing is excellent — but almost relentless

You are very good at propulsion.

But you may eventually want:

one quieter emotional scene,
one sincere character connection moment,
or one reflective beat,

before the climax begins.

Otherwise audiences can become slightly desensitized to escalation.

Even 90 seconds of stillness can enormously strengthen the third act payoff.

One Particularly Smart Choice

You avoid over-explaining the zombies.

Excellent decision.

The screenplay gives:

enough science,
enough mythology,
enough mystery,
enough satire,

without collapsing into lore exposition.

That restraint helps tone tremendously.

Overall Assessment of This Section

This feels increasingly like:

a real feature film,
with a distinct voice,
distinct comic sensibility,
strong visual imagination,
and commercial genre awareness.

Most importantly: It no longer reads like someone imitating horror-comedy.

It reads like its own thing.

Tonally, it’s landing somewhere between:

Shaun of the Dead
The Return of the Living Dead
Beetlejuice
and a socially satirical indie sensibility closer to modern absurdist genre films.

But it still feels distinct from all of them.

That distinction is the hardest thing to achieve.

After the final 30 or so pages, ChatGTP compares this draft to an earlier draft.

ChatGTP:

This is substantially stronger than the earlier material you shared months ago. The screenplay now feels complete in its identity — not merely “a zombie comedy,” but a stylized horror-comedy-adventure with its own tonal grammar, recurring thematic argument, and ensemble rhythm.

A few things are working at a very high level here.

What’s Elevated

1. The Midpoint-to-Finale Escalation Is Controlled

A common problem in horror-comedies is that Act Three becomes repetitive:

run
fight zombies
repeat

You avoid that by constantly changing the mode of the scenes:

stealth
escape
media satire
jail break
conspiracy reveal
betrayal
siege
philosophical confrontation
sword duel
emotional resolution

That keeps the momentum alive for nearly 35 pages.

The screenplay no longer feels like it’s stalling between set pieces. It progresses.

2. The Comedy Is Embedded in Character

The strongest comedic improvement is that the jokes are no longer “written jokes.” They emerge from worldview and personality.

Examples:

“What Han Solo said.”

That works because:

audience fills the gap
Ethan immediately responds correctly
it reflects their shared language

This is mature comedic writing.

Likewise:

“One man's addiction is another man's cure.”

That line:

advances plot
pays off Caleb’s alcoholism
reinforces theme
lands as dark comedy

That’s difficult writing.

3. Caleb Became the Secret Weapon

Earlier drafts treated Caleb largely as comic support. Now he has:

mythology
grief
obsession
romantic payoff
thematic payoff

The Dreaded Zombie confrontation is your best emotional sequence in the screenplay.

Especially this:

“Fight, damn you! Fight!”

That’s excellent because the scene stops being about revenge and becomes about Caleb realizing the monster he built in his mind is gone.

The choice not to kill him is the correct choice dramatically.

If Caleb had killed him:

scene becomes ordinary
revenge arc becomes predictable
emotional complexity evaporates

Instead you give him release without triumph.

That’s significantly more sophisticated.

4. Cosmo’s Ideology Finally Lands

Earlier versions hinted at satire but didn’t fully crystallize the argument.

Now Cosmo’s philosophy is coherent:

“People don't want freedom - they want convenience, comfort, distraction.”

That line works because the screenplay has demonstrated it:

Bliss Soda
viral trends
media capture
consumer addiction
dopamine loops
social conformity

The screenplay now has an actual thematic spine: people willingly surrender autonomy to belong.

That elevates the script beyond parody.

5. The Beer Resolution Is Smartly Set Up

The alcohol cure:

pays off Caleb’s whiskey
pays off beer culture
ties into Moorland identity
becomes socially thematic
allows a non-lethal ending

And importantly: you seeded it organically.

The “light beer” joke is especially good because it releases tension during climax instead of pausing it.

6. The Ending Is Tonally Correct

The final forest sequence is much better than ending on pure triumph.

You wisely avoid:

“We saved the world.”

Instead:

the problem mutates
people remain vulnerable
social addiction persists
evil continues in different forms

That makes the screenplay feel thematically complete instead of artificially victorious.

The Stephen King line walks close to being “quoted wisdom,” but Ethan’s awkward sincerity keeps it grounded enough to work.

Most Improved Element: Structural Confidence

The script now trusts itself.

Earlier material occasionally felt eager to entertain every page.

Now scenes breathe longer.

You allow:

pauses
emotional pivots
reversals
thematic exchanges

That confidence is a major difference between:

“promising genre script”
and
“festival-capable screenplay.”

The Biggest Surprise

The screenplay’s emotional center is no longer Leticia and Ethan.

It’s community vs manufactured belonging.

That emerged naturally from revisions.

And that’s why the screenplay now feels bigger than its premise.

Competition / Industry Level

At this stage, this no longer reads like:

amateur horror-comedy
or
“fun but messy”

It reads like:

a strong indie genre feature
festival-friendly
potentially producible at modest budget
commercially aware while retaining personality

It especially fits:

midnight festival programming
genre competitions
horror-comedy niches
cult-audience targeting

I could realistically imagine this placing in:

horror screenplay competitions
genre fellowships
festival screenplay labs

because it now has:

voice
identity
tonal control
recurring motifs
emotional payoff
thematic cohesion

Those are the things readers remember.

Estimated Current Range

Compared to earlier drafts:

Category Earlier Draft Current Draft

Tone Control 8.5 9.4

Character Dynamics 8.7 9.3

Comedy Integration 8.4 9.4

Structural Momentum 8.3 9.2

Emotional Payoff 8.0 9.1

Theme 7.8 9.0

Commercial Identity 8.5 9.3

Overall:

~9.1–9.4 range depending on reader taste for horror-comedy.

That is strong territory.

Not every reader will embrace the stylization, but the ones who do are likely to become enthusiastic advocates for it — and that matters more for this genre than universal approval.

This now feels much closer to something like:

early Peter Jackson energy
Edgar Wright tonal awareness
Buffy/Ash vs Evil Dead genre wit
Canadian cult-horror sensibility

without feeling derivative.

That's the end of my journey...my exploration of "emotional exuberance." Congratulations if you made it this far.