Effin' Beautiful

Recent Nikki Finke post confirms what every middling screenwriter already new.

"It's crazy how shitty the spec market has been this year, especially given what a debacle 2007 and 2008 were," a source tells me.

But as one who's developed a spec script with some producers who are prepping to take it to the studios in the very near future, there are some words you don't like to read. Words like "piss-poor" and "2009" and "development".

And you really don't like to read them in this order:

"The rest of the 2009 studio development business is in piss-poor shape."

Read her full post here.

Let's Run It By Marketing

Been thinking about an element from a John August post a couple months ago. I didn't say I'd been thinking quickly.

His post is a recap of a WGA panel discussion, in which one of the panelists weighed in on how amazingly important the title of a script is.

"If you can pitch and understand it as a title, it’s gigantic. If you can sell it with a logline, great. If you need a paragraph, you’re in trouble."

Can you understand the movie as a title? Can I get my chickpea sized brain around the story simply by seeing the poster? Do I get it?

Which got me thinking about movies that have -- based on that criteria -- nailed their titles.

Knocked Up. I get it. I know what it's about. Someone got pregnant. And it's funny.
40-Year-Old Virgin. Dude's forty. And he's a virgin.
Wedding Crashers. Dudes go to weddings. And they weren't invited. I need to see that.
Lassie Come Home. Lassie's not home. We want her home. Heartstrings. Tugged.

By contrast, there are titles that require me to sit through an entire movie just to decide if I want to see the movie. Like I have time for that.

A Bridge Too Far. Then start with something closer. Duh.
From Here To Eternity. And divide by zero. Is this a trick question?
Dr. Zhivago. Dude could be a dermatologist. I don't get it.
Casablanca. Casa-what?

Bonus points if you can do it in one word.
Big
Titanic
Jaws
Speed

Points deducted if it takes you a complete sentence.

Honey, I Shrunk The Kids
So I Married An Ax Murderer
Dude, Where's My Car?
I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Which leads to the best titles of all time (that I came up with in 45 seconds).

Ghostbusters
Star Wars
Back To The Future
Planet Of The Apes. It's a planet. Of apes.

Even More Last

So the Farrelley Brothers have set up their long developed Three Stooges movie at MGM. And the last three people -- the very last people -- you expect to be playing Mo, Larry, and Curly are...?

No, seriously, not those last three. The really really really last three.

And So The End Is Near

I've been hearing the rumors for some time, but now it seems to be a done deal. Movies, as we've come to know them, will no longer exist.

For years there have been rumblings. Some wrote it off as local lore, or the ramblings of a lunatic. But it appears the legend of the last idea on earth is true. The one remaining idea left in all of humanity has been found, and purchased. By Fox. The end.

yeah, sure, right, of course

Remember when I mentioned that the spec script market in Hollywood has essentially evaporated in the last year due to all the uncertainty between the Writers Guild strike (which settled almost a year ago) and the Screen Actors Guild contract lapse, which is still unsettled after eight months.

And I said what we really need is for SAG to get their act together and either accept a contract they don't like or go out with a strike authorization vote to their membership (or any vote to their membership, actually). Well, since then, SAG has...

Staged an internal coup, tossing out their leadership and negotiating committee.

Enjoyed an attempted injunction filed by the old leadership against the new leadership.

Watched the judge throw that out.

Just so the new leadership could do almost exactly what the old leadership was going to do, short of actually sending anything to their membership for a vote.

If anyone needs my head it will be in the oven.

I told you

Nice to see that even the heavy hitters aren't immune. John August talking about the current demise of his version of Shazam!

"I got notes from New Line and the producers — mostly about set pieces, and keeping Black Adam from becoming too sympathetic — but before I could get started, the WGA went on strike. I couldn’t write, nor did I talk to anyone involved for 100 days."

Set pieces. Heh heh.

The Second Oldest Profession Is Making Shit Up

Some people have noted that there used to be more screenwriting talk here. That's because there used to be more screenwriting. Or at least more screenwriting business.

Or at least more screenwriting business done by those who aren't in the upper echelon of professional screenwriters. And by that I mean the very small percentage of writers who are hired to revise the relatively small pool of scripts at the top of the studio development pyramid.

If you're not one of those folks, the last year has been an unwelcome vacation. That's because, since the fall of '07, studios have been smacked around by the Buster Douglas of uncertainty. It started in November of 2007 with the writers guild strike, followed in the spring/summer of 2008 by a potential actors strike, upstaged in September of '08 by a national economic meltdown, and capped off in the fall of the year by the return of the actors' strike.

Which means Hollywood took the year off from the spec market -- the flabby middle section of the studio film development torso.

In terms of developing spec scripts, the studios literally sat on their hands, the fence, and their wallets. Okay, clearly not literally, but you don't want to break stride when a barrage of "sitting" metaphors comes your way.

But, hopefully, after nearly 15 months, Hollywood is close to getting it's streetwalking ass back out to the curb. Because, yes, sugar, I need a date.

Right about now -- to which I am openly contemplating sacrificing something virginal or delicious -- SAG leadership is coming to terms with the fact that there are just too many variables working against them to take AMPTP to the mat this time around.

As a WGA member, I've gone from being firmly behind SAG leadership, to watching AFTRA eviscerate them, to realizing the timing is just plain against them taking a crack at what they're after.

You can get a more specific overview here.

But my feeling is that at this point, they're going to have to take the deal they've been offered, spend the next three years solidifying all the creative unions under one banner for the next round of negotiations, and call it a day. Or, rather, more than 180 days since biz could have gotten back to normal.

Did I mention I need a date.

A Nice Piece of Set

Back to the screenwriting stuff. Remember that? More precisely, back to set pieces. Remember those? And I apologize in advance, because apparently most people have an inherent understanding of set pieces, where as I think (now at least) the term is often misused.

So, I want to refine what I talked about before. In short, I said there are organic set pieces which serve the characters and the story, and there are moronic ones which are simply noise and commotion intended to be trailer moments.

But now my feeling is this: I was accepting a flawed definition of "set piece". Even more, I think it's an undernourished definition that a lot of people accept without really thinking about it.

Here's why (at least for comedies and character driven pieces): While most set pieces do make for trailer moments, trailer moments are by no means set pieces. It's not a tidy, reciprocal exchange. My mistake was looking at all the bright, shiny, noisy, orchestrated moments in trailers and assuming they were set pieces simply because... they were in trailers.

Because for comedies and character driven pieces, the set piece is something an actor is going to pull off, rather than the CGI designer or the stunt team.

And the reason I think the distinction is important is because -- while I'm never going to tell a studio exec they're mistakenly conflating the two -- it's probably valuable to keep an awareness of the dynamic in my back pocket.

So, let's tear it all down and go back to the origination of the term. Originally, a "set piece" was a physical component of a play that was so crucial to the story that it was/is articulated in the initial description of the set. All other props can be mentioned as they occur in the play, but set pieces were/are the critical pieces that a set designer and reader need to know about up front.

I'm not saying that's how the term is used in screenplays, but it's useful to understand how the original term applies to screenplays: When done right, set pieces are moments crucial to the telling of the story. Whether they are moments that change a character's worldview, or moments that change the course of the story, or moments that surprise the characters, they are the moments the actor is going to pull off.

And to take it a step further, I'd say they are the moments you are writing towards. The moments that -- when you first sit down to tackle a screenplay -- they're the ones you can't wait to get to, because all of what goes before or comes after hangs on these set pieces.

Identify those moments (character transition, change of worldview, audience reveal, etc.), buff them out so you aren't underselling them, and you'll have memorable (and legitimate) character based set pieces.

Representin'

It's a question I see a lot of screenwriters at the foothills of the heap ask: Agent or Manager?

First, let's define the differences. In my experience...

Managers typically have fewer clients, provide more hands-on script development, focus on networking opportunities (setting up meetings), and are more often in a position to be willing to "break" a new writer.

Agents typically have more clients, offer less one-on-one time, and focus more on making a sale or securing a writing assignment. Agents are registered with the state of California.

Managers are not registered with the state and, technically, are not supposed to negotiate a deal (they'll set you up with an entertainment attorney for that).

Think of it this way: A Manager is more like your Research & Development Department and your Marketing Department. An Agent is more like your Sales Force.

Because agencies come with a verifiable reputation and track record, it should be easier to do your homework on an agent. In theory, they should be more of a known commodity.

Because anybody can hang up a shingle and call themselves a manager, you need to do your due diligence. Both managers and agents will get a 10% commission on any money you make while working with them.

Any manager or agent who asks you to pay upfront for any service whatsoever is not legit. Run away.

So, back to the original question. If you're a new writer looking to break in, my feeling is that you have a better shot at aligning yourself with a manager who is willing to take on new clients. You want someone with good script development instincts who knows a lot of people. This is your chance to get your calling card script into a lot of peoples' hands.

And if things go well, the manager can hook you up with an agent.

The other option is to look for an ambitious junior agent who's willing to work with unknown writers.

And of course, there's the Big Ass Caveat -- there is no instruction manual. There is no definitive road map. There is no blueprint for a career path. It happens differently for everyone.

I Really Don't Know Clouds

I can see both sides of the Diablo Cody/Juno debate.

The first 15 minutes were overwritten to the nth degree. But the rest had heart and personality to spare. I understand that Diablo has the greatest inherent gift for self-marketing since Spike Lee. And I feel very sorry for all the readers in Hollywood who are going to spend the next year getting slapped with Cody-esque quips like "that's one doodle that can't be undid."

But last night, she showed up with a tattoo that couldn't be missed, and a history of taking her clothes off in public. She made writers seem cool.

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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

Writers Heart Real Producers

For everyone not working in Los Angeles or New York, there is a bit of clarification in order. You know the Writers Guild is on strike. You may also know that we are striking against AMPTP (the Association of Motion Picture and Television Producers). You might also think this group is made up of "producers". You would be understandably mistaken. At one time AMPTP was a coalition of producers, but now it is essentially eight massive corporate conglomerates that own all the movie studios and TV networks.

So the next question is, if AMPTP is simply eight enormous corporations, then who are real "producers" and what do they do? Very astute question.

From my experience, the producers that I have worked with on the film side are ridiculously smart and creative folks who essentially do three things: 1) They develop material with writers, 2) They leverage their experience and relationships to marry name actors with scripts so that studios feel comfortable spending their money, and 3) They work with the studios to get movies made. Although I haven't worked in TV, my understanding is that the job description for producers is going to brush the same fundamental strokes: They develop material, hire writing teams, attach actors, and generally try to shepherd a TV show to fruition.

Those are the people I consider to be "producers". They are witty and charming and have winning smiles and we are not at odds with them. Additionally, we are not even in conflict with the Creative Executives who work at the studios and networks. We work directly with them, and I can assure you they also smell nice and have killer crossover dribbles. No, the people we are at odds with are the corporate overlords at the eight conglomerates.

Sooooooo Jealous

I am envious. I'm not proud of it, but that doesn't seem to change matters.

Here's some background.

One of my favorite parts of the screenwriting biz is the Wish List. When you're working with producers or studio execs and a script gets to a certain point, you get to sit around and compile a list of all the actors you'd love to see in the lead roles and all the directors you think would crush this thing 12 rows into the leftfield bleachers.

It's like fantasy football, only you're talking Angelina Jolie instead of Trent Dilfer.

So last August I'm out to lunch with my Manager and a Big Time Producer, and we've each brought our wish lists and we're throwing around names. Now, one of the projects I'm developing with BTP is a smart teen comedy/romance, and the two names that I am in love with -- actors for whom I would give both kidneys to have involved -- are Ellen Page and Michael Cera.

That's right, Ellen Page and Michael Cera.

At the time of this meeting, I'd heard of Juno but didn't really know anything about it. Superbad hadn't opened yet, so I thought Michael Cera might still be a somewhat under-the-radar call. Ellen Page was amazing in Hard Candy, but by no means overexposed.

They would have been perfect. How do I know they would have been perfect? Because they are perfect... in Juno. Perfect.

We're going to be watching them both for a long time to come. And Michael Cera is going to own romantic comedies for the next two decades. He's going to have every Tom Hanks every-man role he wants. Scary smart, wicked funny, cute as a button, and guys like him, too.

And, of course, Jason Reitman was my was my wish director.

The Secret Handshake

I've had a few opportunities to talk with high school and college students with an interest in screenwriting, which I always enjoy. Without fail, one of the first questions always pertains to the classic industry Catch-22 -- you can't sell a script without an agent, but you can't get an agent unless you've sold.

Well, here's the dirty secret that established writers don't want you to know. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Diablo Cody visits me in my sleep and field dresses me like a 12-point buck for what I'm about to leak.

Your best chance is to employ a two-part system and work it in tandem.

1) Threaten an agent's family. Power only respects power, and in Hollywood there is no distinction between confidence and cockiness.

2) Purple Ink = Bidding War


Shshshsh. You didn't hear it from me.

Strikes Make Puppies Sad

So my dog cocked her head and flopped her ears and looked at me quizzically. And the conversation went something like this...

My Dog: So, Dave, that blood trickling down the back of your thigh, is that a result of the anal buggering you're taking due to the writers' guild strike?

Me: Why, yes, puppy, it is.

My Dog: Is that because you had a couple projects with big time producers and big time talent attached that you thought were just about to get set up before the strike went from Summer of 2008 to right effing now?

Me: Why, yes, puppy, it is.

My Dog: Does that make you want to quit the strike?

Me: Not until we get a decent deal for internet redistribution of our authored work.

My Dog: Good boy.

Because The World Needs Another Screenwriting Blog

I'm a writer, and I'm on strike. And do you know what writers do when they're on strike? They write.

I'm not writing screenplays, but I'm writing. I've written a book proposal. I've written letters to the editor. I've written songs that make the young girls cry. I've started writing prescriptions.

Then it dawned on me – what the world really needs is another blog. So here's what I bring to the table: I'm a screenwriter who has sold, done rewrite work, and been rewritten. But I have not had anything produced. Yet. I'm like that AAA ballplayer, getting paid but still riding the bus.

I started from scratch with no connections, no uncle in the business -- armed only with an unwavering desire to sleep my way to the top. So, if you're looking for the perspective of someone who's crashed the gate and is climbing over the broken bodies of the Hollywood heap, then I might be your guy.

Feel free to ask any questions, and I'll do my best to answer them.