Breakfast with Sharks Read online

  AGENT

  Indeed. So Michael loves you guys. He’s really eager, really

  loves the challenges on this project.

  EXEC

  Cool. I’d love to get those pages with a little more lead time.

  New York wants to see everything, and David wants a

  January start.

  AGENT

  I’ll tell him. How about drinks Thursday?

  EXEC

  Sounds good. I’ll have Jim [assistant] set it up.

  Because this is a “people business” where the same names disappear and pop up elsewhere over and over, Hollywood people are notoriously nonconfrontational. Notice that in the above conversation the agent has fished around via subtext to find out whether there might be some wiggle room with the deadlines. In response, the exec has basically said that he has people looking over his shoulder, and he’s expected to deliver a go-picture by January. So, if anything, the writer can be expected to rachet it up a notch or two. Note that such time pressures are common.

  FINAL THOUGHTS

  There’s an old story about a guy who sees a snail on his doorstep. He picks up the snail, flings it across the lawn, and four years later there’s a knock at the door. The guy opens it and finds the very same snail, who says, “So, what was that all about?” Steven Spielberg once said that all films begin with the word. However, life in Hollywood for the writers of the word is a lot like that snail. Endless rounds of pitches and meetings, often punctuated by seemingly random comments from a gatekeeper such as, “You should rethink the protagonist’s arc, and the whole second act needs work, but I can’t figure out exactly where.” Back to the drawing board we writers go, to do our part in this highly collaborative process. Because writing is so very time-consuming, when a writer finally comes back with a revised spec, say, twelve weeks later, the whole landscape may have changed. Landmasses have shifted, mountains have risen up where once were valleys, producers and executives have moved on, and someone else’s project is now being hyped. Your battle-hardened shell of resilience, determination, and attention to craft is the one thing that trumps hype.

  Remember this: Being on the losing side of a close call to sell your spec can be frustrating. However, if you only obsess bitterly about how initial interest in your screenplay did not turn into a firm sale, none of the above will be yours to reap. Millions of dollars and sometimes careers are riding on a single project, so extend yourself and get back in the game. The logic may seem obvious, but you’d be surprised how many writers do not take the next step.

  6

  SECTION 243: PITCHES

  What Is a Pitch?

  The Meet-and-Greet

  The Accordion Pitch

  How Not to Take a Beating at the Meeting

  Why You Should Have Your Own Agenda at Any Meeting

  How Not to Mistake the Sizzle for the Steak

  Typical Responses You Will Receive from the Studio

  Why Some Deadlines Can Be Apparitions

  EXTRA CREDIT READING:

  You’re Only As Good As Your Next One by Mike Medavoy The Kid Stays in the Picture by Robert Evans

  If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are gone, either write things worth reading or do things worth writing.

  —BENJAMIN “INVENTOR ON SPEC” FRANKLIN

  WHAT IS A PITCH?

  September is the time of year when we writers scrape off the barnacles and slime of past frustrations and disappointments to grease up like channel swimmers for the upcoming high spec season, which is traditionally from September through early December and from the end of January through the end of May. That means trips to the studios and production companies in the form of submissions, queries, and pitches. Pitches are meetings where writers are asked to see production or studio execs on their stories, their talent, and themselves. What follows are some battle-tested and timely tips for navigating those shark-infested waters.

  Breathless, my arms waving like sheared-off propellers, I was once right in the middle of revealing my incredible Act One complication when the senior studio exec picked up his phone. “Is he summoning the late Irving Thalberg to get in here at once?” I wondered. “Maybe they’re checking to see how much money they have in the Big Giant Vault which we screenwriters all know is kept expressly for such emergency bidding situations.” No, the exec instructed his assistant to set up a lunch reservation at a trendy Chinese restaurant. He then proceeded to dial around the studio lot to see if other execs wanted to join him. “Sorry,” he said, winking at me. “These guys have the most amazing shrimp, and they’re always jammed.” Several minutes later the exec turned back to me and said, “Go on. Where were we?” Why do they do it? Because they can. It’s a development exec or producer’s job to hear incredible stories in the form of pitches, all day long. While there’s not much excusable about the above incident, such behavior is part of doing business in Hollywood. Give somebody that much power, and that’s what can happen.

  THE MEET-AND-GREET

  If a studio likes a writing sample and wants to meet the writer behind it, this is commonly referred to as a “meet-and-greet.” The purpose of such a gathering is not only for the exec to find out if you have other interesting ideas to pitch, but also to determine “what you’re about”—meaning whether you are normal and sane, or if you froth at the mouth and mutter darkly to yourself. Oddly enough, while execs enjoy movies about lunatics, they don’t want to have meetings with them—unless, of course, the lunatic is star talent, which then requires dinner and drinks. Your hope for this kind of meeting is that the executive will pigeonhole you as a writer with a penchant for story elements—for example, vivid scenarios or strong characters. Come prepared to discuss or “pitch” your other work, even if it’s little more than a rough outline. Your objective here is to showcase the range of your work, as well as to push the executive to deepen the relationship, whether by interest in something else of yours, or via an in-house project already owned by the production company, and which may be in need of a rewrite.

  THE ACCORDION PITCH

  The first thing you’ll notice as you’re ushered into the producer or executive’s office is that there’s a big desk with an expensive designer chair where the occupant is already seated and is usually busy on his or her telephone headset. Once, I was brought in just as the exec was finishing a call with actor Mike Myers on speakerphone. If this is a small company, there will be a pair of leather chairs across from the desk. One will be for you, the other will be available for the producer’s assistant who will take notes, if necessary. Often, these spaces are designed to project the trappings of power with original artwork, awards and posters from successful movies produced by the company on the wall. If you feel vaguely uncomfortable upon entering the room, that’s the point. You’re entering “territory” that’s been strongly staked out by someone else, much like a big cat entering the lion tamer’s circle at the circus. Stifle the fight-or-flight urge to take the chair nearest the door. Instead, if you’re right handed, take the chair to the right which will be more in line with your natural body movement and flow of energy.

  However, if your meeting takes place at a large production company or studio, the layout of the room will be different. The exec on the phone will nod and make a gesture toward the separate conversation area consisting of a comfy couch and two adjacent overstuffed chairs. (One company where I pitched had a Moroccan theme and we all sat cross-legged on giant pillows.) TIP: Don’t sit on the couch if you can help it. It’s sure to be low to the ground and too soft to maintain your posture. Remember that since this is your meeting about your projects, you’re expected to be the most energetic and enthusiastic person in the room. That’s going to be tough to do if your spine is compressed like a Slinky six inches off the floor. Actually, the stiffer the chair, the better you’ll do at maintaining good eye contact while keeping your energy level up. Here, any jitteriness you feel will be mistaken for excitement!, while the same motions on the comfy couch will
look like flailing or leather asphyxia.

  After a bit of small talk, your meet-and-greet will segue into a discussion of your work. The producer might say something like, “So, what are you working on now?” or “What have you brought me today?” Congratulations, you are about to pitch. You should respond with “Wait until you see what I have.” Here’s where your planning and preparation is most crucial. Take a deep breath, compose yourself before you begin. Maybe create a mental image of lifting a lid leading to the Ark of the Covenant.

  Myself, and many working writers deliver their stories via a series of steps that can be expanded or compressed to fit the situation. These steps are referred to as an accordion pitch. The key is to start small with memorable, take-away phrases that remain long after you’ve left the room, expanding to more details that will flesh out and add distinction to your memorable first impression.

  The Accordion Pitch

  1. Start with the one-sentence “high concept.” (Make sure that major beats of the story can be summed up in three minutes.)

  2. Expand out to a three-minute fire drill, with main beats delivered in a staccato fashion, like Walter Cronkite narrating the taking of Omaha Beach. If the executive shows interest and asks questions (“Tell me more about the protag. What’s his backstory [prior history]?”), begin introducing major characterization elements. Keep answers brief and to the point.

  3. Prepare your fire drill to be further unfurled from six- up to twenty-minute expanded pitches—be ready for whatever the situation dictates. If the executive continues to show enthusiasm, tell him or her some of the subplots of the story. Deliver these story lines in a “confidential aside” fashion. A complete telling of the story, including subplots and characterization, selected minor beats, personal inspirations for writing the story, and any particularly relevant themes, should take no more than twenty minutes. If the exec’s body language seems to indicate waning interest, wrap up the particular topic immediately and move on to the next major story beat.

  4. Shift into your six-minute pitch, which should include more character details and subplots. Your strategy should be to give the executive a fairly complete idea of the story, but leave him wanting more, leave him wanting to read the script or invest in its development. Hunker down for the full twenty-minutes telling, and include character backstories.

  5. Should you be faced with interruptions or a glazed-over, walleyed expression coming from across the desk, time to wrap up and contract the accordion.

  To streamline the work to its most essential components is critical, but be prepared to open closed doors and provide details if called upon to do so. There’s really no faking preparation.

  HOW NOT TO TAKE A BEATING AT THE MEETING

  In the Trenches: How to Relax During a Pitch

  Either I give a great pitch or a lousy pitch, depending on the initial “temperature” or reception I receive from the room. One trick I have for loosening up is by telling a very brief story about something else before going into my pitch. For example, minutes before a meeting before a senior studio exec and her cadre of development people, I was stuck in traffic behind a famous director who was driving a very expensive Italian sports car but was clearly not a good driver, as his slamming into and over a median strip curb seemed to indicate. The story got a big laugh that melted any anxiety I was feeling about my material.

  Relax. Simply put, the best advice I can give you is to relax. Here’s a huge secret: most producers and execs know, even before we enter the room, that most of us are borderline incompetent regarding the business aspects of filmmaking. For months and months, we labor over every stage direction and snatch of dialogue (“Is it ‘Huh’ or ‘Hmm’? Let me stay up all night analyzing it.”), then struggle to remember our protagonist’s name when we’re in the conference room. Conversely, execs, by virtue of having done these meetings thousands of times, exude cool confidence or detached boredom, as they feel the situation dictates. In other words, they’re playing three-tier chess and we’re still on Chutes and Ladders.

  I know an A-list writer who goes in to pitches with his twenty pages of single-spaced treatment. As soon as the meeting starts, this writer proceeds to read the treatment, never looking up from the pages, which are kung-fu-gripped so hard that the paper is permanently crimped with sweat stains. Producers and execs put up with this jittery-guy-on-the-edge persona because they know that this writer can deliver the goods. While most of the rest of us are given trapdoors instead of such latitude, I think it helps to be aware that those apparently sentient beings across the desk are prepared for the worst when we sit down.

  What Kind of Writers Do Executives Like to Deal With?

  Open-minded to story suggestions.

  Optimistic and upbeat. Passionate about their craft. The kind of person an exec can imagine working with on a regular basis for the next six months. Secret: execs like to “discover” writers, so being fresh in your perspective about the business of writing will distinguish you as the kind of writer who deserves “discovering.”

  Willing to go the extra mile to make a project work.

  Limited ego.

  Never hides from deadlines.

  Here’s a trick to make pitches and story meetings go more smoothly: Imagine that your script is printed on hundred-dollar bills. In other words, you’ll feel a lot less stress and pressure if you can convince yourself that no matter what happens, you don’t need this fantastic gig or their sweet money. Remember the Buddhist maxim that action is clouded by desire. True self-confidence (as opposed to the easier-to-summon but more transparent bravado) strikes a chord with industry types and makes them wonder what you might be lining up should they pass. Right. I know, “Good luck with that,” but remember, you’re not asking for something, you’re offering something. Be a true professional and do everything in your power to make sure you have the goods to back up your self-confidence, but then detach your emotions from the proceedings. Lack of confidence comes from feeling that you or your project is somehow unworthy. Instead, prepare as best you can, and if they don’t want what you’re offering, it’s their loss, not yours. Reward yourself by generating new leads as soon as you can—even if that means plundering their Rolodexes while they’re ordering the aforementioned shrimp. Personally, I try to keep half a dozen or more opportunities going at any one time. That way I never put pressure on my writing to deliver a Lotto check that precise second, and I rarely feel the sting that comes from having all my huevos in one basket.

  WHY YOU SHOULD HAVE YOUR OWN AGENDA AT ANY MEETING

  Make sure you have a goal or objective for every pitch. Why are you seeing this particular person? What do you want to happen as a result of this meeting? Is there a way to close this transaction right here and now? Usually there isn’t. So, at the very least, you should be looking to establish a time line. Ask yourself what tangible thing you will have when you walk out that door. Recently I posed this last question to another writer. “Tell the story, I guess. See how it goes. I don’t know much about these guys,” was his answer. Remember that producers and execs get paid to take meetings (often referred to as “face time”); sadly, you don’t. The other side of the desk takes meetings regardless of whether they’re able to buy anything or not.

  Your Agenda for a Meeting

  1. Find out if the producers or studio executives are interested in purchasing your work. If not:

  2. Are they considering you for a specific project, and what are the details? If not:

  3. What do the producers or executives like about your work?

  4. What kinds of projects might the company be interested in purchasing right now?

  5. Are there upcoming projects you might be brought back in to pitch for?

  6. What kind of material and budget level does the exec or producer consider his or her specialty?

  Having an objective for every meeting forces you to do your research. To that end, invaluable sites like inHollywood.com, imgb.com, and 4lists.com list loglines (one
-sentence capsules of projects) while tracking projects in development of every Hollywood exec you could meet. Use this tool to make every meeting more productive. Bottom line: Meetings and face time can be important, but don’t let them become an endless merry-go-round that leaves you no time to write. If you can’t see the immediate strategic objective of taking the meeting, then don’t go. And make every meeting as productive as it can be.

  HOW NOT TO MISTAKE THE SIZZLE FOR THE STEAK

  If momentum on an immediate project and steps that build your career is the steak, then sizzle is the hype of posturing, gossip, etc.— aka things that can cause you to lose focus. Creative and monetary rewards are intimately entwined. The resulting pressure can be intense. Add to the mix the collaborative nature of film and Hollywood can seem to be only about personalities. Hundreds of movies still must actually get made each year, however. Egos jostling each other around like bumper cars is just a reality of this town where the politics are often brutal. And in such cases we writers rarely win. That’s another reality. So avoid ego collisions at all costs. I was once on a project where the director had an in with the head of the studio and used it to cut the legs of the producer out from under him. This same director used me, the writer, as a blunt instrument to humble the studio exec in charge of production. He demanded revision after revision to a project that had already been green-lighted. Many things can happen with such a torrid dynamic, but the realization of a masterpiece usually isn’t one of them. In this case the wheels came off, and the project came to a grinding halt. Throughout, my main objective remained to just hold on, so when we resumed, I was still part of the mix.