Gettin' Hydrated Part III

To recap, first there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.

Also, there was a chasm, a cave, and a bridge.

And an email from The Manager informing me that he pulled my script from a pile of 1,400. He asked to see other scripts and, because I'd gone all hermit for a couple years, I had some. He liked. We talked some more.

The Manager knows lots of people. That's what managers do. I refer to The Manager as The Big Flirt, because I believe that is part of the manager job description. The Manager sent the script around to the people he knows (which, again, is a large number).

And... people liked it. Apparently I have a unique "voice". That is what people say when they like your writing. No, I don't know what it means. I try not to think about it.

And while people liked the script, nobody wanted to buy it. Because it was too "small". Too "indie". Too "fabulous". Okay, nobody said that last one.

But they did want to meet. And so I met. On all the studio lots and plenty off the lots, as well.

The first studio lot was Universal. I pulled up to the gate, the guard asked my name, I told him, he checked the computer and... gave me a pass. And a map. And told me where to park.

The checkpoint gate arm thing went up and I drove in, certain that poor bastard security guard would be canned by lunch for letting random citizens onto the lot.

And so the parade of meetings began. Free water and getting to know people.

And the thing about these meet-and-greets, they're like sex. Only with clothes, and without bodily fluids, and without the awkwardness the next time you see the studio exec, and meetings last longer, and no sex face.

But there is one similarity: When you start taking meetings, there's a period of time when you can remember each encounter. Then, after awhile, you can't.

But you know what? Even once you've become a studio slut, going on the lots is still cool. I keep expecting the day when I don't get at least a small rush, but it hasn't happened yet. And the reason I think it's still cool -- even if I know the meeting itself isn't going to be easy -- is because this is where movies get made.

Because for anyone who grew up loving movies, going in the Animation Building on the Disney lot and seeing early work-in-progress sketches of Snow White hanging on the walls -- that shit does not get old.

Softlightes

Check out the GKB Lofi Fink Remix. Yea.

Dave's Rickety Bridge Part II

So I crawled out of my cave and ventured toward the chasm.

And I did some homework. For some reason I thought I was about the only one smart enough to check out a screenwriting posting board. Yes, sir, I was going to have a competitive advantage all right. Because, what, only a few million other writers, give or take, were privy to this sort of classified info.

So I found a thread talking about up-and-coming managers. A few were listed. I wrote down their names. Who knows, in retrospect, they were probably posting their names themselves, but I didn't ask any questions I didn't want answers to.

Then I sent out some query emails. I'm a believer in the less-is-more school of querying. Really, really, really less is more. Give them an interesting logline that allows their imagination to see the potential, and that's it.

I think my query went something like this...

I'm an up-and-coming screenwriter, and I recently completed a script that you may be interested in.

Title: The Floaters
Logline: A misfit high school guy realizes that the school's janitor is a washed up one-hit-wonder pop star from the eighties, and the kid convinces the janitor to help him form a band.

And that's it. I'm sure I signed off accordingly. Gave them a thanks for their time and some contact info.

Within a week or two I'd heard from a couple managers requesting the script.

Then... nothing. That's another thing you have to be prepared for: So Much Nothing. I will have to post on this in the future.

But the Nothing ended a couple months later. I received an email from the Manager that said the script I sent was the first one he'd responded to in the last 1,400 or so.

I don't include that number to brag. I include it to show why they take soooo long in responding, if they respond at all. And how much competition there is.

More to come. The script gets sent around town... and does not sell.

This Man Could Sing The Phone Book (and you would cry)

Holy effing' diety of your choice.

Don't get caught up in the footage from the original and just check out his take. Matt Weddle, ladies and gentlemen.

Dave's Rickety Bridge

Christina at Development Hell asked what my crossing the chasm story was. And since I take requests, here goes.

Dave's Skinny Butt Crosses the Chasm -- Part One

When I got serious about writing screenplays I decided to...

Lock myself in a room.

For two years.

My plan was to allot two years and crank out as many scripts as I could. The idea was to rid my system of 1) all the "important"/therapy scripts, and 2) all the crappy scripts.

I succeeded on the former and failed on the latter.

The other part of my plan was to emerge from my cave with 3) a general idea of what the hell I was doing, rather than a fortunate one-script accident, and 4) a backlog of scripts to show agents and/or managers when they uttered the inevitable "what else do you have".

On those counts I more or less succeeded.

And then there was the part of the plan where I forced myself to crank out pages on a daily basis. Seven days a week (I believe that's the definition of daily). To work my ass off. To not baby one script for more than three or four months. To treat writing like a job even though I wasn't getting paid for it. To pound slabs of beef with my bare hands that were actually ground beef patties on my kitchen counter because I don't have a walk-in cooler.

Sure, I make it sound all hardcore Viking, but it was really just a guy sitting at a computer for a couple hours everyday. With a Viking hat on. And ground beef between his fingers.

So that's the way I handled it. It's different for everyone. But when I came out of the self-imposed exile, I had a script I felt good about. And a couple others that, while not as solid, I felt had decent concepts behind them (remember the WB Hallway Test)

And then I went about pursuing a manager. More to come...

De La Y'all

A tip of the hat to John Richards from the totally necessary musical outpost KEXP.

This makes the ear holes very happy.

Important Distinction #2: Free Water Rules!

Flaming unrealistic fantasy vs. Slogging through the process

Writing a good screenplay is haaaaaard. That's three syllables 'hard'.

So it makes absolute sense that everyone who's sitting down to do it on their own dime, on their own time, needs to visualize the endgame. Aspiring screenwriters need to envision the glory that's going to come from toiling at their computer until blood trickles out their ears.

They need to envision getting that agent, making that big sale, and carpooling with Diablo Cody.

They need the fantasy.

What they don't need (but I'm going to give you because, trust me, it's in your own best interest) is the reality.

What a talented aspiring screenwriter can hope to get if they work their ass off and catch some breaks is... water. And hopefully lots of it.

And an agent or manager.

The realistic goal (and I don't mean to undersell it, because it's a huge goal) is that this script will snag some representation who will get it read by people all over town. That's victory number one. Victory number two is that some of those people respond to it and want to get to know you.

Meetings.

And every meeting starts with someone offering you water. Hopefully you get so much freaking water that you find yourself stuck in Burbank traffic seriously considering doing something you haven't done since you were two.

The reality is that the script that gets you on the radar is not typically the script that makes you money.

Can the fantasy happen? Hey, people do win the lottery.

But if you want to prepare yourself for the long haul (and it can be 'long' with three syllables), then you need to plan on a series of victories. The first is free water. Which will probably lead to another spec, and more water.

If you're lucky.

Coming soon: What to expect from the free water meetings, and a little background on the script that got me hydrated.

Is There A Statute Of Limitations On John Mayer Bashing?

Nah, I didn't think so.

I know this is from last year, but I just heard it again and it made me want to say...

Hey, douche nozzel.




We all liked it better when it was called People Get Ready.

Darwinism in the Warners Bros. Hallway

There is a trait that all Top Of The Heap Screenwriters have. I'm guessing in some it is inherent, and in others it's learned.

In evolutionary terms, it could be argued that this ability is rewarded to a greater degree than any other ability, and the absence of the trait is a career death sentence. Nobody makes it to the top without it, and everyone without it stays on the other side of the chasm.

This essay from Wordplay should be day one in Hollywood 101.

Sneak Preview

Russ Walks is an illustrator/artist who lives in Montana. On the cool scale, that's up there with being a musician/bartender in Key West.

Russ is also a close friend, and we're developing a web strip together. And by developing, I mean we've been talking about it for a year or so.

Just so you know, at least one of us is talented:

You'll see Russ's work in a cereal aisle near you in conjunction with Indiana Jones 4. And in the beverage aisle. And 7-11. And probably a fast food joint, for all I know. The sun shall not set on the Walks empire.

He's just not the best driver is all.

Bustin' In: The Fiery Bottomless Chasm

Okay, I guess by definition "chasms" aren't bottomless, but work with me here.

Are you a spec writer planning your assault on the studio gates by modeling your strategy after a successful route taken by another writer?

Do you say to yourself, Diablo Cody was a stripper who kept a cool blog, so I'll do that.

Or, I heard Antwone Fisher worked as a guard at Sony and he handed Denzel his script, so I'll do that.

Or, Robert Rodriguez shot his movie for a few thousand dollars and edited it on a VCR, so I'll do that.

Well, stop it. Shift your thinking a bit and picture it more like this...

Imagine you're standing at the edge of a ragged, fiery, bottomless chasm. And standing on each side of you, shoulder to shoulder, for as far as you can see, are your fellow spec writers.

On the other side of the chasm are the studios. And spanning the chasm are millions of rickety rope bridges. The wind's howling and it's real nasty and you get it.

Then, every now and then, one of your writing brethren lets out a banshee scream and goes charging across one of the wispy bridges. Most of the time they get halfway over the chasm and the bridge collapses and they disappear into shrieking fiery anguish.

But every once in a while...

Someone makes it to the other side. The angels sing, the gates part, and it's free hookers and blow for everyone.

But what most of the writers still standing across the chasm don't notice is that just as the lucky writer made it to solid land, the bridge that writer chose disappeared in a phit (made up word, but it works.)

What I'm saying is that each writer I know who has even gotten on the free water circuit took a slightly different bridge over the chasm. And once a bridge has been used, it's no longer available for anyone else.

It's like each bridge has it's own fingerprint of a snowflake on the cornea of its DNA. Only not as cliched and bludgeoned to death.

The routes are unique, but there is a crucial common denominator. Each writer told a great story that exhibited both professionalism and a unique personality.