Chapter 38: What The Hell Do I Call This Chapter, or, Do It Right

That Was a Really Dumb Thing To Do #3,492: I knew that.


I had a dance instructor, Barbara Wiley, who taught me more life lessons in the course of the two years I studied with her than I probably learned in the entirety of the rest of an errant childhood. One day we were doing a routine at the studio, and I was tired, slacking, just phoning in the steps, and Barbara stopped the dance and asked me what the hell I thought I was doing. And I said, promise, on performance day, I'll be on, but today I'm tired. And Barbara said, practice like you want to perform, because if you don't? Your body is learning right now what to do, and come performance day? This is what it's going to remember, what you practiced today.

Barbara was pretty smart.

See, you can look at today as a day when your career is not established and you are on some ill defined "beginner's tier," or you can look at today as a day when you are a writer. And while a certain dose of pragmatism in dealing with people and an acknowledgement of reality, as in,"I haven't been doing this very long, I have a lot to learn," is not a bad attitude to have, the attitude you aren't a professional and so shouldn't behave or treat yourself like one or expect other people to treat you like one, I find questionable.

Can you, by writing for free, get the job, whereas someone who asks for money won't? Yes, if you're working with someone who only wants to work with people who write for free. But while you are writing for free, the person who won't is going on to find a person who will pay them for their work. As a paid professional. And it's a little tough to be out there pounding pavement for that person who will pay you, if you're spending the bulk of your time working for people who won't.

Situations will arise in which it's a realistic investment to work with a producer developing a script of yours, sans pay, on the basis that producer is going to take that script in to studios and attempt to set it up. But that's working with a bonafide real credits has made some big films producer. Not with just anyone who comes along and wants to produce. I have watched writers do this over and over, following every will 'o the wisp that comes along, rewriting and rewriting a script to fit a multitude of expectations, telling themselves they're being good team players and they're showing people just how cooperative they can be, (um, who are they showing, someone who wants to be a producer?), till they've run themselves clean into the ground doing work for people who don't have the clout, never had the clout, probably never will have the clout, to get a movie made. I've seen writers so wrung out by this process, they quit. And that makes me angry. That they were used, and used, and used some more, until they had nothing left to give and gave up in despair. But they cooperated with the process. And that makes me angry too. That they conspired in their own demise, and helped make it happen.

Don't need praise so much, you will prostitute yourself and your work for it. Or worse, give it away for free. It would be nice if every struggling just starting out producer were Steve Spielberg in the rough. That's not the case. A lot of struggling producer's in the rough are Bozos. And even if Bozo praises your work to high heaven, well, he is still Bozo. Get it?

There are hundreds of people in this town willing to give you an opinion on your work and overly willing to tell you how you ought to change it. There are only a few who will say, "Yes, I believe in this, this is wonderful, let's take it to a studio." And while it is unrealistic to believe nobody will ask you to make changes? (They will.) You are looking for someone who believes in the work so strongly, they can take rejection after rejection and still keep going, hear opinion after opinon that says it isn't quite right, if you just tweaked this little thing, or that little thing, we would go for it. And won't ask you to rewrite every time they get a new opinion. Because they know opinions really only count if someone is paying you money to pay attention to them. And they know what they've got is good, and they will set it up, when they find the right place. And they will keep going until they do set it up, because they believe in the original material enough to do that. And then someone will pay you to make changes.

Those are the people you want to work with. Not people who think it might be great, if only. Not people who think something needs a rewrite every time someone who doesn't want to buy it says well maybe this is why. The people who say, "It is great, let's find a way to break the damn wall down and set up a deal and make the movie." Those are the people you want to work with.

If you invest your time working with and for people who don't have that attitude? You will have no time or energy left to find the people you are supposed to be with. So treat yourself like a professional. If you don't, the day you do may never come, because you will have taught yourself too many bad tricks, come performance day, to be capable of performing to your own expectations of what being aprofessional is all about. And treating yourself like a professional means, only get involved with people who treat you like a professional too. And that means people who think you should be paid. People who do not put you on a treadmill doing free rewrites based on every Tom, Dick and Harry's opinion they pick up along the way.

It is easy for me to say this now. People are generally nice to me because, if they aren't, I will rat them out to my agents and William Morris will be mean to them. But I didn't always have William Morris. And when it is just you, you have to weed through a lot of Bozos. And everytime you say no, that little voice in your head asks, "Wow, did I just blow off the next Steven Spielberg?"

Well, stifle it. You can't know that. You have to go with what you feel and what you think and just do the best you can based on that. And if you just blew off a future film god? Well he is learning too and next time maybe he will make a better impression on a writer.

Meanwhile, if you're on your own talking to someone about your material and your ideas, ask about getting paid. I know writers aren't supposed to talk about money, and when you have a great big agent, you mostly won't have to. But you don't, you are on your own, so for now, you have to do that. Talk about the filthy lucre stuff. People are fast and quick to look at writers with that holier than thou you poor sap expression and inform us this is a "business." Well, damn straight, it is a business, and while they are happy to tell us that when they think we are being too starry eyed and "artistic," once in a while we have to remind them, when they'd just as soon keep us starry eyed and artistic. And that is when the subject of money arises.

It's not out of line, asking about pay. It has to be asked nice, not belligerant or aggressive or confrontational. And not whiney. Just nice and up front and matter of fact. "Are you planning on paying me for this?"

I got into this sitch once, in which this other writer was very caught up with a supposed producer, some guy coming out of film school who wanted to finance a film using alumni contacts to raise funding. The other writer had told this guy about one of my scripts and said he ought to read it -- which was a very nice thing to do. The problem was, I had very little faith in this scenario and didn't want to send the guy a script, if this was going to lead to one of those situations where someone dicks around with your work, but doesn't plan on paying you unless (ahem) they make the movie and the movie goes blockbuster and turns them into Steven Spielberg. Which is very much what this all felt like.

So. I talked to this guy some, and he planned to direct, (wow, now that came as a surprise), and I said, "You know, I need to see something you've done." And he said well he couldn't send me a tape, he hadn't even read my work, why would he make that kind of investment, without even knowing if he liked my work? And I said, "Well, we are kind of at an impasse here, then, because you at least have heard my work is good, but I have no similar knowledge of you."

Now look. We weren't talking about a feature film. We were talking about a student short. I went to film school. Hell, I was in film school, at the time. Short tapes are cheap. You buy them by the case. And if you're low on funds, well you ask people to return them after they're done and hope they will. If this guy couldn't even send me a tape? Which apparently he couldn't. It was probably time to bail. So I said now would probably be a good time to discuss whether or not he was planning on paying the writer.

Which of course he was not. And it ended there.

A lot of this comes down to, know who you're talking to. Do your homework. Ask people what they have done, ask people who know people what they have done, ask who they're associated with, ask to see samples of their work, and find out if they have financing, and where it is coming from. A lot of people are protective of their financing sources. That's okay, as long as they can tell you what they've got and what they need and at least legitimize the claim they've got financing. Don't be afraid to ask.

If you're talking to Scott Rudin, well, you don't have to do all that, you don't have to even determine whether or not he is planning on paying you. It's a stupid question. Of course he is. That's the way business is done on his level. But if you're not talking to Scott Rudin, find out.

And don't work with people for a compliment and a prayer. If you have done five free rewrites post them sending the script to five people? They don't believe in your work. I don't care what they say or how pretty they say it, they don't. If they did, they wouldn't ask you to change it each time someone new reads it. Drop them. Go find someone who believes in your material. Right now.

Part of valuing yourself as a professional means being able to walk away. You will never, ever be able to accomplish anything in this business, if you can't do that one thing, just say no and walk away. The business is too hard. There are too many people who will run right over you. Use you. Abuse you. And discard you. You have to be able to say no. And. Walk. Away.

Valuing yourself as a professional applies to the way you write, as well. If I see one more person tell beginning writers not to write "like the pros," that pros "can do that," i.e. write with exciting style and voice, (in other words, well), but that beginners are supposed to do "something else," which I guess means what, write without exciting style and voice? I'm going to punch someone out.

I am not talking about format or using some aberrant font, I am talking about voice, style, verve, flair. If you read a writer's work whom you admire and you want to emulate that person, to learn from them, if you want to write with verve, voice, style, and flair, for God's sake, do it.

Why do you think that person sold in the first place? Why do you think that person is a "pro"?

Because that person did something no one else could, like no one else could, and they did it exciting and fast and well and that is what people buy in Hollywood. Nothing sells like voice here. Nothing. It is what makes people stand out from the crowd. What makes them special. What separates them from the thousands of people who want to do this but can't. That shining voice that is recognizable and distinctive and says, "Here is a writer, a story teller, someone who will make you see things in special ways, who will take you somewhere."

Do not listen to anyone who tells you you are supposed to somehow write in a way that demonstrates you are not a pro until the day you become a pro. The idea you can do that and then one day magically turn into a pro is ludicrous. You will not cross some magical line and then suddenly be "allowed" to write well because you are now a "professional." If you don't write well, you will never be a professional. So whatever that line is, cross it now. Become a professional because you damn well wrote like one in the first place. Because you pulled out all the stops and were wonderful and daring and exciting on the page.

In other words, write like a pro and you will become a pro. Write like you are not a pro, and you won't -- Warner Books March 2001.

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