Breakfast with Sharks Read online

  Hollywood seeks out fresh voices via film school programs and best-and-brightest competitions like the Sundance Institute and the Nicholl Fellowship. As will be discussed in more depth in Chapter 20, doing well in the competitions is a good way to clear the first hurdle to getting your work read and noticed by professionals, that is, getting your “voice” heard. Another opportunity can be had at industry-sponsored pitch fests, where writers pay for the privilege of pitching their projects, for periods as short as 120 seconds, to low-to mid-level executives and producers. Such pitch fests are advertised on sites throughout the Web. Simply search for the keywords “screenwriter pitch fest.” Unfortunately, these grope encounters between scribes and gatekeepers can be pricey, ranging from about twenty-five dollars into the hundreds. Be aware that competition is fierce and there is no “top secret,” foolproof way to get noticed. As I will repeat throughout this book, the best way to get noticed is to write a polished, bulletproof script. Sounds easy, right? Unfortunately, ninety percent of the scripts submitted to Hollywood do not meet this criterion. A nifty concept poorly executed won’t be enough to set up your career.

  Don’t, however, try to develop your voice once you get to town. Because many of us here came from someplace else, we quickly discover that we are far from our sources of life experience and creative inspiration. Although a writer will learn a tremendous amount about the craft of moviemaking just by being here, you have to have a strong foundation of writing experience and voice before you arrive. One of the hardest parts about being an “artist” in Tinseltown is the white noise of the industry, by which I mean that everyone you meet here seems to be working on developing movie projects and writing screenplays. Everyone. That’s an odd feeling for writers who are used to being a rare, rogue breed in their home-towns. The buzz of the entertainment industry is ever-constant here. For example, a couple of years ago, a studio exec insisted on holding a story meeting with me at a trendy coffeehouse on Sunset. Initially the place was so loud that I couldn’t hear myself think. Within minutes, however, clusters of people at every table around us had abruptly stopped talking, hanging on every word as I pitched revisions to my climactic third act. The exec loved the attention, but for me it was freaky, and I struggled to stay focused.

  LEARNING PATIENCE ONCE YOU GET TO L.A.

  You also have to be emotionally set for Hollywood. Rejection and still more rejection is an integral part of the business, as we’ll discuss further in later chapters. The average period needed to go from script to screen for a single project is about three to four years, so there’s an enormous time investment required by all involved to make a movie. It takes time to prepare a script that is ready to be checked out by an agent and then ready to be read by a producer or director. Many writers who come here seem unwilling to make such a time commitment, and attempt to leapfrog steps in the process to get a deal, usually with disastrous results. Once a green draft (a raw and unpolished, usually first draft of a screenplay) has been circulated to and passed on by potential buyers, that script is effectively dead. All your work is wasted. So, along with your financial cushion and your keen voice, you have to bring the virtue of patience to Hollywood. If you don’t have it, don’t make the effort of moving.

  A Question to Ask Yourself

  Do you want to pursue a full-time job with a career and have less time to write, or take a day job at Kinko’s that affords more time to write, but is markedly tougher on the ego? The answer is that you should do what makes you happiest. Hiding from creditors and bill collectors is a certain path to personal misery and a short career. As a case in point, I know a producer who didn’t date or socialize for ten months because his projects weren’t going well. When I told him that I thought that was a pretty crappy way to live, he shrugged and said, “First of all, I’m broke. Second, I can’t deal with all the questions. I mean these are the same people I’m trying to sell to. So it’s easier to just stay home.” About twelve months later he was out of the business.

  BUILDING YOUR SUPPORT COMMUNITY

  While attending grad school in Miami, well outside of Los Angeles, I used to meet with three other writers on a weekly basis to share work. Friday was set aside for screening and discussing new movies, often with a member of the faculty. I look back at that period very fondly. In some ways my community there was stronger and more focused than anything I’ve found here.

  People outside of L.A. can join a film or screenwriting group in their area. And they can attend seminars and other events hosted by the Directors Guild of America (DGA), the American Film Institute (AFI), and the Writers Guild of America (WGA), where they will have contact with agents, producers, and other established professionals in their chosen field. Actually, it would be more helpful for you to volunteer to work at these seminars rather than simply attending them, because you’ll get more one-on-one contact with the people you’re trying to meet, and you’ll make more of an impression on them. For example, several years ago, I was interning at the Key West Film & Literature Symposium in Florida when the program director assigned me to escort a distinguished screenwriter, novelist, and playwright who would be speaking on panels throughout the day. The writer was William Goldman, legendary author of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and many others. The time spent with him changed my life. Because cinema involves so many people, it’s crucial to know others at your career level and above for emotional support and guidance. The Internet has made it easier than ever to build your community. Look up writers’ group chat rooms and discussion boards like the DoneDeal message board at http://pub130.ezboard.com/bdonedeal.

  Bottom line: Working outside of Hollywood may add to your frustration and sense of isolation, but it can lessen your cynicism about a place where the day-to-day ebb and flow takes its toll. However, people outside of Southern California must be proactive about building their film community. Community is an indespensible virtue if you want to make it as a screenwriter.

  THE MOST IMPORTANT VIRTUE: COMMITMENT

  As stated above, upon arrival here, you will most likely have to lead a dual life with a part-time job. Yet the simple but undeniable truth is that you must make time to partake in your craft every day, even if only for fifteen minutes. Shooting a film or writing a script requires muscles that quickly atrophy with disuse. We creative types are innately curious beings—we seek out and attempt to unlock the mysteries of existence. The danger is that we can easily become side-tracked with other interests. Many fledgling directors and writers come up with the seeds of brilliance, then put them aside, assuming those seeds will still be there when they return to start anew. Usually they’re gone. Instead, think of your craft like Sharon Stone in The Muse. She’s maddeningly precocious and flighty and requires constant nurturing, but the rewards are great, and you can’t make it without her. In the end, it costs nothing to hit the pad and start writing.

  Ten Tips for Keeping Your Commitment to Write Every Day

  1. A well-kept secret among pros is that they “get it all down ASAP.” In other words, these writers write as quickly as possible to get everything down on the page in order to complete the script. When blocked, I have occasionally resorted to using a stopwatch to sprint-write my way through a tough section of pages.

  2. Rewriting is when the real writing begins. That’s why it’s so crucial to get the first draft down on the page quickly. Relieve yourself of the pressure to hit the ball out of the park on the first draft.

  3. Obey your biorhythms. If you’re a morning person, schedule time to write then. Write at the same time every day.

  4. Don’t mix activities. When you take time to write, do that exclusively. For example, if you have scheduled your writing from 7:00 to 11:00 a.m., don’t also answer phone calls or surf the Net during that period.

  5. Don’t allow yourself to be distracted while you work. If your living space isn’t conducive to writing, go somewhere else, such as a library or coffeehouse.

  6. Reach out to your local or online writing commun
ity. It’s easier to stay on pace when you’re discussing your work with colleagues. Sometimes it’s helpful to think of yourselves as heirs apparent to the Algonquin Round Table or the American expatriates of 1920s Paris.

  7. Keep a tracking board. Use a dry marker to color-code script submissions, charting their progress in the marketplace—including follow-up dates, etc. Likewise, keep a work journal that charts how many pages you have completed in a given day, as well as schedule projections, story issues to resolve, and marketing contact leads.

  8. See as many movies and read as many produced scripts as you can. Learn what elements cause a film to succeed or fail. Early on in my writing career, I attended bad movies on purpose to see where they went off course and how I might have fixed them.

  9. Develop pre-writing rituals. Take a brisk walk, answer e-mail for thirty minutes, sharpen pencils, or prepare coffee or tea before starting to work.

  10. This is your dream. Keep in mind that you are making this commitment for yourself. Nurture your dream with patience and dedication to your craft.

  FINAL NOTE

  We of this industry are risk-takers by nature. Many who heed the cry of “location, location, location!” and leave their comfortable setups back home quickly realize they can’t write or direct as effectively here. Many writers have a more comfortable setup for writing back home, and the white noise and pressure of suddenly being in a town where everyone seems to be a producer, writer, or director can sometimes throw them. Others stay put, but feel disconnected from the pursuit and target of their dreams. The key to a successful choice is deciding whether you’ll benefit more from an autonomous existence or from seeing the hooks, wires, and mirrors of Hollywood up close and personal.

  PART TWO

  The Script-to-Screen Process

  4

  SECTION 207: A GLIMPSE INTO HOLLYWOOD SCREENWRITING

  A Snapshot of the Acquisition Process

  Why Everyone Writes and You Should, Too

  What You Should Be Writing

  Where Do Projects Come From?

  Low-Budget Filmmaking As Another Way In

  The Pitfalls of Trying to Write for the Market

  Who Owns What You Write?

  EXTRA CREDIT READING:

  Feature Filmmaking at Used-Car Prices by Rick Schmidt

  Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

  —EDGAR ALLAN POE

  A SNAPSHOT OF THE ACQUISITION PROCESS

  For your project to find a home at the studio, it must navigate the following minefield:

  A script is submitted by an agent to the production company or studio for consideration by the story editor, who manages a stable of script readers who will then evaluate or cover the project. If the project garners good coverage, a young executive may choose to read it. This executive is either a creative executive or a director of development (the titles are virtually synonymous). The clout of these CEs and DDs is mainly by recommendation of a project to their boss, usually a VP. Note that a great amount of material is going through smaller and smaller funnels.

  The next step up is the VP of development. These execs bring in material, networking with agents, and lead projects through the development maze. Above the VP is the president of production, who is empowered to greenlight projects for acquisition. Every script arriving at a production company must fight its way up to every level until there is a critical mass of executives backing it. Once the president of production comes on board, then the project is optioned or purchased, or it is brought to the studio for the same purpose.

  Meetings with the writer of the project begin after contracts have been drawn up. Note that guild writers are guaranteed at least one rewrite draft. The writer is brought in to meet with the development executives on the project (usually one VP and one C.E.), where the notes that the C.E. wrote are presented; either verbally, or actually on paper. A lot of prodcos use story notes internally, preferring to dispense their thoughts to the writer verbally in discussion form. Now, the writer goes off to knock out the rewrite. The meeting-rewrite process continues as many times as the contract requires, until the studio either decides that the script is ready to go into preproduction, or a new writer is hired.

  WHY EVERYONE WRITES AND YOU SHOULD, TOO

  In Hollywood there are many, many golden doors leading to career opportunities, but all of those portals seem to be surrounded by razor wire. Aside from self-generated projects in the form of independently financed, low-budget movies, which we will discuss in depth later, specs are the keys to the Hollywood realm and the lifeblood of the industry. They are the best way to control your destiny. Producers need intellectual properties to develop into films, and the vast majority come in the form of spec scripts. That’s why everybody writes. Producers, directors, actors, studio executives, and, yes, even writers. And what they write are specs, which we discuss in depth later in this section.

  WHAT YOU SHOULD BE WRITING

  The best answer to this is a mix of everything: specs, assignments, and “passion projects.” For example, for several years now I have been conducting research for a spec about baseball leagues in the Japanese-American internment camps of World War II. Writers who work exclusively on assignments work with ideas and story lines generated by someone else. Such filtering limits the potential for artistic and personal expression. While such projects can be lucrative, the downside is that your writing will become extremely formulaic and derivative. When that happens, the industry will brand you a hack, the pejorative term for a writing gun-for-hire who delivers strictly formulaic work. Eventually, such writers are shut out of the best projects in Hollywood. It is presumed that with specs you are writing whatever you want to write, while assignments entail writing what someone else tells you to write.

  There is also a distinction between specs with a decidedly market-oriented slant, which can showcase your talent and help you find a place in the industry during the early stages of establishing your career, and the more personal writing you may opt for later on. Many established writers who shift over to doing predominantly assignment writing (which can be extremely lucrative) once their careers are on track soon feel that something’s missing artistically. And so these writers may pass on assignments in favor of working on passion project specs. For example, Ed Solomon, who is primarily known for writing Men In Black, wrote and directed Levity, based on his experiences mentoring prison inmates.

  “What are you working on?” is a perfectly good conversational segue in a variety of social circles, that will generally solicit information about someone’s passion project. If what everyone “really wants to do is direct,” one may decide that the shortest means to that end is to write specs. That’s because Hollywood will break many “rules” in order to obtain a hot script. A legendary tale is the story of an unknown Sylvester Stallone holding out for the lead role in Rocky, which he wrote. Similarly, Chaz Palminteri refused to sell his screenplay for A Bronx Tale unless he was given one of the leading roles.

  Writing to Direct

  If you write two hit movies, you can demand to direct the next script you write. At other times, if you sense that a company wants your project (a preemptive offer in advance of the script going out into the market is one such clue), you can insist on directing the project yourself. Nine times out of ten, the purchaser will opt to pay you more money not to direct.

  Except for a few executives who are career studio people and are not on their way to becoming producers, everyone else in Hollywood is essentially an independent contractor. As an independent contractor, you work for yourself, and your time is literally your own. Unfortunately, the downside is that there isn’t much security in Hollywood, but writing is the one way of creating something of potentially great worth out of nothing. That’s because writing a spec is the single endeavor in Hollywood that makes you self-sufficient. Think about it: actors cannot act without a script, nor can directors direct. The screenplay is the basis
for all other work in the industry. If your goal is to be able to create and make a living wherever and whenever you want, then this is the occupation for you.

  WHERE DO PROJECTS COME FROM?

  Studios receive potential movie projects from producers and would-be producers that they put into development, the process of “going from the page to the screen.” Only one in twelve projects will ever get made into movies. Projects come from two sources: specs, which are original source materials written specifically for the screen ( Lethal Weapon and The Sixth Sense were both spec scripts shopped in the market for producers and studios); and adaptations, or translations of finished written work into film. Adaptations mainly come from the following sources:

  Books: literary works with a strong narrative line that can be translated into a visual medium. Both Lord of the Rings and the Harry Potter series came from books.