Dear Mr. Seitzman, Or Whomever I May Hold Responsible For Mr. Seitzman Not Meeting His Rightful Fate Of Being Eaten Alive by Rabid Wolverines;<br /><br />I do not know you, and so cannot comment on your character; for all I know, you give to charities and help little old ladies cross the street. Still, I must insist, for the common good, that you never write another screenplay as long as you live. Put down the pen, step away from the laptop! <br /><br />If you refuse to heed the pleading of wounded brains, I have watched a movie or two in my life, and I believe you will find my counsel helpful: <br /><br />1. Do not include love scenes in which overwrought teenage boys name the body parts of their girlfriends after US states. If you must pen such a scene, please do not name the breasts "New York" and "New Jersey"; it causes unnecessary speculation as to which cities occupy the nipples. Also, it is almost incomprehensibly stupid and annoying.<br /><br />2. Do not rely solely on John Hughes movies in order to reinforce class distinctions.<br /><br />3. Do not bludgeon the audience over the head with exhausted clichés. Yes, yes, Kelley and Sam stand out in the rain, and it cleanses them of their cares. We get it. Yes, the roses continue to bloom in Kelley's dead mother's greenhouse, even though every other plant has begun to rot. It Is A Symbol Of Their Love. It is also very painful when applied via blunt-force trauma to the backs of our heads. For the love of God, Mr. Seitzman, we get it. We all get it, all across the land. Amish people, the hard of hearing, unborn babies - we all get it.<br /><br />4. Do not require the actors to perform mime sequences. Ever. No, never.<br /><br />5. Did I mention that you should ease up on the trite symbolism? Because the audience can draw the parallel between the rebuilding of the restaurant and the building of the relationship between Kelley and Sam without any help. Truly. We get it.<br /><br />6. Go through your script, and cull out the following lines, and any lines resembling them: "I don't know what we are anymore." "I don't want to lose you." "He's just like the rest of them!" (And its corollary, "Daddy, you don't even know him!") <br /><br />7. Yes, yes, she's in heaven, running around in a field. We get it.<br /><br />8. And in other news, we get it.<br /><br />I have seen dozens of terrible movies in my life; I never expected to suffer for your art, and I would have just left the theater, but an elephant with the words "DOOMED LOVE" painted on its side fell from the sky and pinned me to my seat.<br /><br />In closing, your writing bites, you owe me ten dollars, and I hate you.