Breakfast with Sharks Read online

  Admittedly, I have yet to be personally affected by this bias. Although screenwriting is a tough business no matter what age you are, I suppose I have even benefited from being a fairly young, pasty white guy. However, a reality of American youth culture is that it’s easy to feel old even if you’re young. (For the record, I, too, am nineteen. Honest). Just visit the production offices of a TV series, and often you will witness the strange phenomenon in which twenty-something-year-old show runners are surrounded by forty-something-year-old below-the-line people—production managers and DPs, etc. “The kids,” as they sometimes refer to themselves, are often referred to by others as the “fresh idea people,” whereas the veterans are the studio’s “security” so that the end result will actually look professional and be within the budget. Recalling that TwilightZone: The Movie scene where a snotnosed ten-year-old rules the world and drives it to ruin, you’d think such a dynamic would be chaotic. Mostly you’d be wrong. As stated earlier, at twenty-six or so, it’s pretty hard to have the level of polish, craft, and life experience to justify a world stage for your work. So young writers tend to leaven familiar plot lines and structures gleaned from recent adolescent viewing, with the latest jargon and fashions of their peers. For example, I often note key scenes from The Graduate reworked into contemporary stories, but the “homages” lack any underlying meaning. Such an end-product suits the studios just fine. Not only do they plug into the financially lucrative latest trends (trends = money) that those damn oldster writers are probably missing, but the execs get neophyte scribes who are still not quite formed and are thus far more malleable than their battle-seasoned counterparts.

  Does ageism exist in Hollywood? Absolutely. The upper mid-levels of Hollywood are chockablock with twenty- and thirty-somethings. Is it fair? Of course not. It’s not even healthy for the art form. Will the practice end anytime soon? Probably not. Should you let it strip-mine your hopes and ambitions? Hell, no. What’s to be done about it? Good question. Personally, what I keep coming back to is that challenging yourself to write well must be the cornerstone of your career. But ask me again in ten years. Writers like Bill Goldman, Larry Gelbart, Bo Goldman, and Larry McMurtry, who have managed to climb on top of the tiger and continue to write into their fifth or sixth decades, have left few clues to their longevity beyond the familiar platitude “Write quality and the world will beat a path to your door,” and playing the political game of screenwriting successfully. Unfortunately, no one is ever quite sure how “quality” is defined in today’s Hollywood. At a Writer’s Block symposium to discuss excerpts from a book titled The First Time I Got Paid for It . . . (containing excellent first-person accounts of the fledgling writing gigs of more than fifty Hollywood writers), I had a chance to talk with Ed Solomon (Men In Black, What Planet Are You From?) about the topic of ageism. He said simply, “The business side never gets better, only your craft does. Other than that, there’s no easy answer. But if you’re meant to write, then that’s what you gotta do.” Further elaborating on this point, panelist Michael Tolkin (Deep Impact, The Player, Deep Cover) recalled once having given his students the following test: Write the ten best films in history on one side of a page, and your ten favorite films of all time on the other. Ideally, the two lists should contain the same ten films. Only a few in the class understood without prompting what Tolkin’s point was. If their favorite movie in the whole wide world is Birth of a Nation, then, unless someone was paying them, they shouldn’t be writing Hungry, Hungry Hippos: The Movie. Beginning writers continue to churn out mediocre fare because the biggest misconception about a screenwriting career in Hollywood is that it is a linear a-to-b-to-c progression to succeed. It isn’t. Instead, imagine a Rubik’s Cube whose parts are constantly moving. At the Writer’s Block symposium, Ed Solomon reminded the audience that “what’s certain is that the rules of the game keep changing, and what it means to be a screenwriter keeps changing, so you can’t always be so result-oriented.”

  I could advise you to take solace in the fact that the ol’ lazy Susan of karma goes round and round—that today’s twenty-somethings will be told one day that they’re too old for a coveted job, if they haven’t been already. But I won’t tell you that. Movies and TV series are tremendously hard to get made, so cynicism is of dubious value—kind of a lose-lose proposition. Yes, here, like everywhere else in America, youth is served. What I will tell you is that in Hollywood everyone gets opportunities, and a producer or exec needs things to work out as much as you do. And it’s what writers make of these opportunities that counts. Mature writers write mature work. In the end, if you know the odds, and writing still bubbles and burns in your soul, then it’s better to just go for it! Your unyielding optimism and willingness to improve your craft will be your primary weapons to counter the vicissitudes of the industry.

  Mantras for Avoiding Cynicism About the Industry

  1. The past doesn’t equal the present or the future. Just because disappointment always seems to be part of the Hollywood landscape doesn’t mean it always happens.

  2. It’s just what happened. Don’t attach value to a result beyond what positive insights may be gleaned from the experience.

  3. The cumulative effect of Hollywood equals not failure, but experience.

  “PEOPLE WHO NEED PAPER” BY SONIA LENT

  Here’s a section created expressly for you to share with a loved one, a family member, or a friend. A little while back, I received an e-mail from a concerned friend of a writer. This friend had witnessed firsthand the hard-fought birth of a screenplay, followed by the giddy excitement of producer interest that suddenly became apocalyptic depression when the deal crashed and burned and the producer evaporated like snow in Tallahassee. Now the friend was desperate to get the ego-shattered writer back on his feet. What triage might I suggest? Certainly, support is crucial to a writer’s development, so, before responding, I consulted with the one person who could commiserate most. My wife, Sonia, is the keystone in my own arch of creative being. As such, she has nearly a decade’s worth of experience on the subject of partner support of a screenwriter. What follows are Sonia’s battle-tested observations written in her own words.

  —Michael Lent

  Michael and I had just moved in together, and one day it was my turn for cleaning patrol of our teeny, tiny, overpriced apartment. With my trusty no-name vacuum attachment in hand, I happened upon a very strange phenomenon—someone had scribbled hieroglyphics all over gum wrappers, snippets of magazine lap cards, torn Post-it Notes, even a section of two-ply bathroom tissue!. My generic Hoover sucked them up by the dozens. Lesson No. 1 was learned that evening somewhere just after midnight as we Dumpster-dived with flashlights clenched in our teeth for the shreds of “inspiration and material written in code” that Michael had painstakingly “saved” under the bed, on windowsills, and in pants pockets in preparation for an upcoming project. Nowadays, when I find snippets of genius that read “A mnky bcms t/ prsdnt!” I leave them alone. Beyond being a testimonial that writers are very odd people and inspiration strikes at strange times in even stranger places, the moral of the story is that there are definitely guidelines to being a partner of and supporting the writer in your life. Believe me, I’m an expert. If you are a writer’s mate, you may want to cut out and tape to the fridge my hard-earned advice.

  THE JOURNEY OF A THOUSAND MILES BEGINS WITH BASKETS OF EGGS

  Witnessing the evolution of half an idea into a polished piece of work is pretty cool, as is having a front-row seat at the development of a creative career. Way back when, I don’t think either of us was prepared for the long journey ahead, and the level of commitment required. Maybe that’s a good thing. Writers are passionate people, but they get a lot of rejection. A lot. But you already know that. So they can be some of the crankiest people on the planet. They get “blocked” and into “funks.” They need loads of support and encouragement. You’ve got to understand their plight. You have to be positive, no matter the circumstances. Writers will even
beat themselves up over things out of their control, so there’s no point in piling on more negativity. Staying involved is the most important part of being a partner. Sometimes that’s easier said than done.

  Writers work autonomously, sometimes with little or no human contact for hours or days at a time. Their partner becomes their link to the outside world, the person off whom they bounce their ideas. Again, easier said than done. Writers can be protective about their ideas—especially when they’re still in the drawing-board phase. Suggestion: Offer to full-read the day’s pages. You read; they listen . . . they mark up their work as you hand it back to them. They hug you and thank you profusely. I’ve learned that besides having a glass of water at the ready, there is a certain level of skill required for this out-loud task. Reading in an emotionless monotone will make the pages drag and depress the writer. They say things like, “Oh God, it sucks. I’m so screwed!” However, being “in character,” especially when you’re not a trained actor, will make even a horror script sound like an after-school special. Instead, I’ve learned that punching nouns and verbs with the hushed tone of a thrilling bedtime story works best. You get into it. They get into it. Everybody wins, and if you’re lucky, nobody gets sleepy. Michael and I have utilized this technique with all of his scripts, and I take a small amount of personal satisfaction when a producer or exec notes how well the pages and dialogue flow.

  Screenwriters tend to focus on just one thing. Did I just write “focus”? I’m sorry, I meant “obsess.” Usually the current script is the object of their fixation. A partner helps a writer stay grounded by encouraging him or her to have more than one basket with lots of eggs in those baskets. For example, in Year One following grad school, Michael wrote seven days a week and did little else beyond maintaining basic personal hygiene. It was the textbook example of obsession. The end result was a studio spec sale, a production company three-assignment deal, and an independent film . . . that all fell apart. All of them. Michael began to refer to his workspace as the “losertorium,” while showing sudden interest in the exciting career potential of stuffing envelopes at home. Beyond the pep rally, I realized that in the face of a film industry that had the spine of a Slinky, Michael’s short-term ego and long-term career depended on finding some kind of structure. Fast. He needed to receive pay-checks with a couple of zeros after them. Whether the money came from writing or not didn’t matter. We had a talk. We made a plan. Five years in Hollywood would be our commitment and benchmark. If sufficient progress in the form of a spec sale or studio assignment hadn’t occurred by then, we would start Plan B (teaching at the college level, or the above-mentioned envelope stuffing). Michael made a list of things he could do to cut down the odds a bit (many of the items on the original list are discussed in this book). In the meantime he got a job doing research writing, and later worked as a weekend manager of a real estate office. I brought breakfast to the office on Sunday mornings to boost our quality time. Soon money began to flow in, which took the pressure off the many small production-company assignments Michael chased and sometimes landed. When your writer begrudges the time spent on a job-job—and trust me, they will—remind them that all peripheral experiences impact the writer’s development. Sarcasm and snarling may be the initial response you receive to this truth, but you can write out the IOU that’s sure to follow when the lean days are over.

  9 TO 5 . . . A.M.

  You want to play; they have to work. You go to sleep; they’re still working. It’s important to realize that writing is time- and schedule-intensive. A project can result from one meeting and hit like a hurricane, without warning. A partner learns quickly that while there are no true deadlines and no real certainties to when and if movies get made, all writers are constantly on deadline. Given this paradox, writers and their partners should strike a balance that keeps both of their lives on the same page. Work hard and play hard. One example: We had finally booked our first vacation in a long while. Suddenly, Michael’s Miramax deal came through with a deadline for delivery of Act One that coincided exactly with our big Hawaiian getaway. I was already committed to taking the vacation time away from work, and the nonrefundable tickets had been paid for long ago. What to do? We came up with a schedule whereby Michael got up each morning at 5:00 a.m., went for a predawn swim in the ocean to get the juices flowing, then wrote intensely, hunched over his laptop on the balcony, from about 5:30 until 10:00 a.m. The rest of the time was ours until bedtime back at the hotel, when we read the morning’s pages in preparation for the next day’s effort. Michael made his deadline with half a day to spare, and we had a working vacation that worked well for both of us.

  CALL FOR BACKUP

  A partner plays a key part in the writer’s success by understanding the complexity of this difficult but rewarding endeavor. Theirs is a chancy business, so taking chances is a fundamental part of the process. Beyond encouragement and protection, you are there to give insight, offer a critical eye, and restore passion in the face of frustration. “Patience!” is your constant theme. You’re there to remind your writer to breathe when the disappointment seems unbearable. You always remember that the writer’s life is not without its frustrations. Early in our relationship, I remember being at a dinner and mentioning that my new boyfriend was an aspiring screenwriter." A writer?” a lady with poofy blue hair boomed, while clutching her anchor’s worth of pearls. “Then you better get used to being poor!” If this were a do-over world, I would eagerly go back just to say, “A life with a writer is rich in passion, hopes and dreams . . . and many of them are attainable!” I could tell her that firsthand.

  18

  SECTION 425: THE INDEPENDENT SCENE

  Writers and the Independent Film Scene in Hollywood

  Creative Control in the Indie Scene

  My Own Experience As an Independent Film Producer

  Business Control in the Indie Scene

  Types of Independent Film Deals

  Art House

  Cable and TV

  Exploitation

  Marketing Your Independent Film

  EXTRA CREDIT READING:

  Feature Film Making at Used Car Prices by Rick Schmidt Contracts for the Film and Television Industry by Mark Litwak, Esq.

  Today we celebrate our Independence Day!

  —BILL PULLMAN IN INDEPENDENCE DAY

  WRITERS AND THE INDEPENDENT FILM SCENE IN HOLLYWOOD

  There are many, many books available on the subject of independent filmmaking, but this section deals specifically with how writers can use the independent film to create opportunities in the studio system. After tearing out your beard over your inability to find a home in Hollywood for your manifesto, you may decide it’s high time you took the bull by the something and go the independent route. Here’s what you need to know.

  Ten Rules for Successful Independent Filmmaking

  1. Have a completed screenplay that is camera-ready (a polished shooting script).

  2. Use “recognizable faces” when you can (actors that your audience will recognize even if they don’t know the names, as in “Hey! Isn’t that the guy from the Depends commercial?”).

  3. Try to get the script to a few people working in the industry, to elicit their reactions.

  4. Determine who your intended audience might be. In other words, you may want to rethink your claymation Falkland Islands War docudrama that’s shot in French but intended for American audiences.

  5. The finished film must be at least seventy-six minutes long in order to qualify as a feature film. Anything less is considered a short film. The market for short films is very, very limited.

  6. Before commencing principle photography, make sure you have all of the necessary funding to complete production.

  7. Do not run up credit cards or plunge yourself hopelessly in debt in order to make your movie.

  8. Unless you are a veteran filmmaker, avoid shooting in tough locations or during inclement weather (i.e., outside of a train station during a rainstorm).
r />   9. Avoid elaborate props that may malfunction.

  10. Avoid working with animals and children, because they are prone to noncooperation under pressure.

  Just as in the Hollywood scene, pitfalls abound in indie filmmaking. First off, it will most likely be your money on the line in the form of misappropriated student loan funds, Uncle Oscar’s retirement account, or some incarnation of a bank loan or hastily organized investment consortium. In such scenarios you may find help in Rick Schmidt’s Feature Film Making at Used Car Prices (the book Kevin Smith used to make Clerks). This primer provides step-by-step instructions for making movies on a shoestring. And just so that everything will be legit and you won’t end up on Judge Judy, Schmidt’s book, along with Mark Litwak’s Contracts for the Film and Television Industry, also includes boilerplate legal contracts for everything ranging from partnership agreements (deals with producers and investors) to day-player contracts (actors) to distribution agreements (contracts for putting your film in theaters). A word of caution: Thousands of aspiring independent filmmakers take the “build it and they will come” approach. However, only a teeny, tiny handful (fewer than 1 percent) ever recoup their investment monies. That’s because making a film without business or marketing plans is analogous to setting your pants ablaze and counting on the fire department to show up before any real damage is done. You want your movie to be more than just a time capsule of ego and naïveté.