Tag Archives: Screenwriting

Provoking Emotion. That’s what sets you apart and sets your work apart. It can be joy, anger, glee, fright, sadness, empathy, anxiousness, compassion...

But it had better be something. And it all comes from character.

I read a script this week that laid there like a dead eel. (Ok... Dead Eels can be delicious, but only in Sushi) Not only did I not care at all about what happened to the characters, I didn’t care about who they were, where they came from, or why they were in the situation the writer chose to put them in. Why? Because the writer didn't care enough about them to let me know who they were and why I should care about them. And it's too bad because the premise was pretty good.

The reason audiences choose to watch a particular film or show is to be entertained, period. To escape into another world. To feel with the characters. To experience the character’s lives vicariously. Don’t kid yourself. There’s not a great film out there that you haven’t put yourself into emotionally at some point. To choose to feel what a particular character did.

You need to design your characters and story to evoke emotion and KNOW before you start what emotions you’re going for.

Too many times I read a script where the writer is so fixated on their premise or trying to write too cool characters or twists or action or scares that they forget to build reasons into their characters to care about them.

Premise, in any script, is king. Your logline. In building a great story around that premise however, you have to give the audience characters to love, get scared with, to root for, to hate (and not hate because they’re lame, but because you want the audience to), to... well, anything that makes them CARE. To become emotionally involved with.

One thing that makes audiences NOT care instantly is when you as the writer don’t know your own characters well enough to know what they’d do in a situation. ANY situation. Doing something the audience (or reader) thinks is not in character, but for story convenience. This has killed more scripts than bad spelling.

I’ve been lucky enough to spend time as actor around some pretty amazing actors. The best ones develop biographies about their characters. One very well known actor had a yellow legal pad filled with pages of character notes. Including things not even in the script, but what he gleaned from what the writer built into the character.

Thinking about it, one of the things that helped me a lot in becoming a better writer was my acting experience. It made me look for things that actors (and STORY) need. Consistency of character. As a writer, before you commit your character to doing anything in your story, you need to ask yourself: “Is this something this character as I have built him/her would really do?”

You’d be surprised how many times you’ll have to rethink things. But it could save your scripts from being thrown into the PASS pile. You can’t provoke the emotion you want from characters who aren’t consistent to what you’ve presented earlier. Yes, you can still twist a character. I do it all the time. But I also weave clues all through the script it’s coming. Leaving clues that the reader (or audience) doesn’t see for what they are until after the reveal is the difficulty. It’s work. It’s thought. It’s creativity. It’s not easy. But then, writing a script that evokes the right kinds of emotion is never easy.

For writers trying to break in, the object of your script is for the reader to not be able to put your script down. The ONLY way this happens is if they NEED to know what’s going to happen to the characters you’ve created. That means not only does your story have to be great, but your characters have to be great in it. That means you as the author have to spend the time with each one of them to get to know them intimately. To know their needs and wants and fears. What makes them laugh. What makes them cry. What motivates them as PEOPLE, not just in the situations and conflicts where you’ve placed them.  And not changing it midstream for convenience. To use your well defined characters to evoke the emotion in the reader you need in order for your script to succeed.

I can tell you from experience that I’ve sat in production meetings with development Execs and said, “That character wouldn’t do that” any number of times and explained with complete certainty exactly why. Because I KNOW that character like I know myself. And it’s saved me from having to execute some pretty horrible notes.

Yes, it’s another time consuming and sometimes painstaking thing you need to do before and during writing. So what? Don’t do it and you’ll be wondering why your scripts never get any traction.

Been a little bit since my last blog. Lots of stuff happening. Finished a brand spanking new, kinda based on a real thing, comedy script spec I love with a new writing partner that I love writing/working with. Multiple trips to LA. Surprising meetings with studios. Meetings with some people I want to work with and meetings with people I never want to see again let alone work with. Meetings with cool friends I cherish. New life on a dark/comedy pilot I thought might go away, which is a good thing because it’s a killer concept. Other projects seem to be moving forward, one in particular is speeding, and loads of people I respect are asking/demanding to read the new spec.

Some personal family health hurdles to get over, which they did and received a Gold Medal for. Thank You God.

Life is good. I know you didn’t ask, but I need to announce it from the rooftops.

Now, let’s talk about being the Exception.

You know, those writers who dropped their script into the lap of a sleeping star on an airplane and it was made into a hit film. Or the writer who put their script into a pizza box and delivered it to CAA and got signed. Or the writer who slid their script under a restroom stall to that big director who made it his next film. Or the writer that got a star map, printed a dozen scripts, and threw them over the walls and fences at the Stars homes and the bidding war for the script that ensued afterward. Or the writer who made like he was delivering a singing telegram to a producer and ended his song by handing his script to the producer and the joyous celebration the two of them had afterward.

Yes, these things have all happened... the results didn’t, but the writers did make fools out of themselves trying these desperate and really unprofessional ways to get their work read.

There has been nothing that hasn’t been tried unsuccessfully, many times. Nothing. You may think it’s original, but it’s not. I have heard the stories from people who have been subject to this loonyness. It amazes them, it frustrates them, it pisses them off. In Amy Poehler’s new book, she talks about this invasion of personal space with an example of the time she was asleep on a subway in New York and someone dropped a script in her lap, waking her up. She was not happy. She was not nice. And I don’t blame her.

Who wants their personal space invaded? No one. Yet some writers seem to think this is fair game because once they heard a story from someone or another who knew a guy who knew someone who gave Coppola a script on a plane and it got made. This is how urban legends live on, because people need them to be true to justify their desperate actions.

Do people throw their software ideas over Bill Gate’s fence. Or their design ideas for a new Tesla under Elon Musk’s bathroom stall? Hell no. Why is this industry any different? Well, because it isn’t.

What the writers who try this craziness don’t realize is that producers buy writers as much as they buy writing. Why do you think they want to meet with the writers before they buy or option anything? To get a feel for who the writers are and if they can work with them. You know what they think of writers who do these over the line things to get their script read? Not a hell of a lot. The line, “Get off of my lawn!” comes to mind.

Hollywood as a business is amazingly risk averse right now, as if you couldn’t tell with all the sequels, remakes, and comic book films. One of the things they are really averse to is the uptick in law suits from writers who are sure their idea or script was stolen. That’s why no one will take any script that hasn’t been requested or brought to them by someone they trust. It’s too risky and they’d be flooded with scripts. They get enough scripts the right way as it is. Why do you think it takes so long to get a read once you’ve sent a requested script?

But... But... you don’t understand, Bob. I’m going to be the exception to the rule. It’s going to work for me because I’m brilliant and my script is brilliant and my film needs to be seen by audiences everywhere.

I can't tell you how many times I've read or heard this attitude. And then when their script get no traction, it's always everything but the script's fault.

I will say what I always say and will continue to say, GREAT SCRIPTS FIND A WAY. They don’t always get made, but they can make careers. If you’re not getting traction from your script from querying or reads or contests or sites like the Blacklist, you need to take a hard look at yourself and your script and face the fact that maybe it isn’t the people rejecting the script, but the script itself. Every writer has had to face this. Every writer who is a success now. What did they do? They didn’t get mad and feel sorry for themselves or blame anyone else. They pulled up their big boy/girl pants and wrote another one. And another one, working to get that one great script to get them noticed. Work.

You aren’t going to be the exception because there are none. You hear a story about some writer who sold his first script for big money? Chances are he spent as much or more time networking and querying to get it read and then was GREAT in the room. And as I’ve said previously, networking is nothing more than developing genuine relationships with people. Something that takes time and effort. Expecting someone with contacts to do something for you out of the blue is not networking. It’s insanity. Networking is work. Just like querying is work. Sites like the Blacklist cost and not a little. You have to invest your hard earned money for maybe no results. It’s what screenwriters do when they understand the business they’ve chosen. When they don’t understand, they throw scripts over fences.

Follow me on Twitter...... @bobsnz

Here’s my conundrum. Do I be blunt about how bad it is to be a desperate screenwriter or do I softpedal it, so I don’t get anyone mad?

Why, you ask, would I be concerned about getting anyone mad? Well, my last blog about the lack of a conspiracy to keep new writers away from Hollywood did, amazingly enough, make some people mad. Some really mad. And I heard from them. In fact, I was accused by more than one of being a shill for the conspirators.

Yep, a shill for the mean, nasty, uncaring managers, agents, agencies, producers, directors, and studios that spend their days not working on films and TV, no, but gleefully spending their days together laughing like hyenas at all the screenwriters whose scripts they have refused to read for NO GOOD REASON.

Yeah, you found me out. A shill. A shill for the same directors and producers and studios who I struggle with everyday to get my own work read. That makes sense.

Actually, when you think about it in terms of this Blog’s topic, it does make sense. Desperate people do, say, and think stupid things. And accuse people of things that if they were thinking straight, they would never dream of doing. But for a certain percentage of writers, logic and thought go right out the door when it comes to their scripts.

I do understand how much work it takes to write and finish a script. Most scripts. I read one a while back that the writer bragged he’d written in two days. 144 pages. It just came as a “stream of thought and is destined to be a hit”. All you can do with writers like this is smile, point and say “Look a Producer”, and run away when they look.

Most of the time it does take a ton of work to finish a script. And when you’re done, it’s your new baby. You love it and will do anything to protect it and get it seen, even if you can’t realize it may be ugly.

One my dearest friends is an Exec at a prominent production company. To say he’s bombarded daily with read requests is a gross understatement. Most of the time he rightly says No. That can be based on many things. His time (he works damn hard) and his interest in the logline (and it better be a damn good logline). Sometimes he reads things as a favor to someone.

When he does consent to read a script he’s very clear that it’s not in any way shape or form an acceptance to buy that script by his company. Yet, when he tells the writers no, and 99.99999% of the time he tells them no, some act like he’s gone back on his word to them. He’s likely to hear back from them either anger that he doesn’t know a good script when he reads it, how wrong he is, sob stories, begging, rage, insults, threats, and other acts of desperation that insures these writers that my friend (and his company) will be ignoring them for now and evermore.

I understand desperation. I understand waiting for an email or waiting by the phone for a call. I started off as an actor. I’d audition for some film or commercial or TV show, desperate for the job, then go home and worry and fret in desperation to hear if I got it. I didn’t get them and I finally figured out why. Desperation shows on camera and casting people and producers and directors HATE IT. It was only when I decided “Hey, I’m probably not going to get the part anyway, so why not have some fun with it” that I started getting some parts. BIG wake up call. I still didn’t get the majority of them because nobody does, but I got my share.

The same goes for writers. Desperation shows. It shows in your attitude. It shows in your query letters if you’re not careful and smart. It shows when you try to network. Bugging people and refusing to take no for an answer is the ultimate act of desperation and makes you look crazy and no one wants to work with crazy.

NO. NO. NO. Get used to this word. It’s what writers hear 99% of the time. It’s what actors hear 99% of the time. Believe it or not, it’s what Producers and Directors hear most all of the time. NO.

It’s not personal either. Unless you’re desperate, then it’s a little personal because no one wants to be around it. No mostly has to do with the quality of your work or where that work fits into need or timing… a million things have to go right to get a yes. But you have more of a chance if your script is truly great and you’re NOT desperate.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard not to be desperate in certain situations. I get that. But you just can’t act like it or show it. It will affect outcomes and relationships. It can kill some relationships before they have a chance to start.

Nothing get accomplished or changed when you beg or argue with someone who has said No. In this business they’ve already moved on the moment they decided No. Whether it’s deciding not to read it at all or during reading the first ten pages or seriously contemplating it after finishing a read, then saying No, you need to lick your wounds and move on like the pros do.

There’s no conspiracy. It’s just plain hard to option or sell a movie script or TV show. It’s really really hard. It gets harder if you’re desperate.

 

(follow me on Twitter @bobsnz)

 

The time has come to talk about Fearlessness. Something every successful screenwriter processes.

Fearless. About working with people. Fearless. About their own work.

Let’s tackle the second one first. Fearless about your own work. If you don’t believe in it, no one will. But don’t mistake fearlessness with ego. There’s a difference in believing in what you do and unrealistically looking at your work. As a new writer (or as an experienced writer for that matter), you have to be able to listen to your own honest opinions or others opinions of your work without letting your emotions and ego get the better of you. To look at your work dispassionately and see it for what it is, even if it’s bad. Especially if it’s bad. To learn that other people’s notes, even the ones you have no use for at first glance, can a lot of times make your script better. Or... can cause you to fearlessly throw it out and start again if you need to.

Just happened to me. I’ve spent the best part of the last four weeks working on a pilot script for a dark comedy series. I finished it a couple of days ago. Today I deleted it, completely. Not going to make some people happy, but instead of handing in something I know isn’t near good enough in my opinion, I’m going to regroup immediately and tackle it again, fearlessly. I know I can conquer this. It’s in my wheelhouse. Dark. Funny. Twisted.

Part of being fearless as a writer is being able to look at your own work and toss all or parts of it if you have to. You know if it’s not good or not. It’s being honest with yourself that’s the hard part. To throw out the bathwater, baby and all. Sometimes it’s the first ten pages. Sometimes it’s a whole act. Sometimes it’s the ending. And sometimes it’s the whole damn thing. Like today.

Don’t be afraid to be completely honest with your own work. Save you a lot of grief in the future.

Now to being fearless working in the industry.

Screenwriting is a scary enterprise. You already know it’s not easy. Getting a film or TV show made from your original scripts is a damn miracle. The odds of being consistently successful are impossibly long. And screenwriters are subjected daily to ego crushing events. They get bounced off their own projects and replaced by writers who don’t care how much time and personal creativity you devoted to it. Producers and Directors change your work so much that sometimes you don’t even recognize it as yours. Screenwriters are left out of most of the crucial decisions about a project. Sometimes you can write something, sell it, and end up with zero screen credit for it. Did I leave anything out? Oh yeah, a lot, but I’m not here to depress you. I’m just showing you there are a lot of things to fear in trying to do this.

You should know that the three things Producers and Directors HATE from writers are fear and desperation and unwarranted ego.

They look at screenwriters with an agenda. And this only happens if they LIKE what you do. Can I work with this person?  Do they process the ability to understand what we want and give it to us creatively? Are they ready to do some heavy lifting without complaint? Do they understand the filmmaking process and can they live with it? And the list goes on....

Meetings with Producers can easily become scary places if you let them. The fearless will go in knowing they belong, with their ears and eyes open and speaking when they have something substantive to add, not just to hear their voice. The fearless aren’t intractable and defensive. The fearless aren’t afraid of other people’s ideas and opinions. The fearless welcome the opportunity to co-operate. The fearless stay in the room longer. A lot longer.

I wish screenwriting were as easy as writing a first draft, selling it, and watching the film as you wrote it. I wish I didn’t run into writers who believe it is or should be. Writers full of ego and emotion who can’t believe it’s so hard. Writers who are angry and desperate at the same time because the industry doesn’t recognize their particular genius. Writers who are truly amazed that they can’t just waltz in and get everything they want. Writers who are the reason producers ask their secretaries to interrupt the meeting after 10 minutes with a fake call so they can flee if they have to.

Fearlessness isn’t entitlement. It’s the attitude of the professional.

So it’s 2015 and it’s starting with a bang and a boom. Already had my first 2015 trip to LA, a two day whirlwind of meetings that saw me come home today with a GREAT job that I can’t talk about yet. But I am happy. Like really really really happy. And maybe, just maybe, an adaptation job on top of that one. It’s looking, knock wood, thank You God, like it may be a good year.

Plus... I got to hang with a really fun, genuinely nice, intelligent group of writers. Drinks and a little pizza and talking and networking and learning. I always come away from talking to writers with a little more knowledge than I had before we talked. I enjoyed it more than I can say.

On to the subject at hand. I read a LOT of scripts. I trade with some people to get and give notes. Writers ask me to read their stuff. My manager sends me scripts he’s been sent for me to read. Sometimes production execs or development execs send them directly to me to read. I love my Ipad. I can download and read most of them there, only printing out the ones I have to take serious notes on. Even then, my wife asked me to do something about the stacks of scripts in my office. I’m not looking like a hoarder yet, but the opportunity awaits.

Lately (thank you Mac & T.A.) some scripts I have read are really good. Scripts that show imagination, skill, and care.

But:

Most of the scripts I read are, to be polite and we should always try to be polite, are... lacking. Some in big ways. Some in huge ways. It’s hard to tell someone their subject matter won’t sell tickets or cause someone to hit the button on their remote to watch ever. To tell someone their script has enough plot holes in it to fill the Albert Hall. (A Beatles reference for you to look up if you don’t know) But damn... even if your story sucks, you shouldn’t be making glaring technical errors. Some of these errors are so bad I think the writer never really read what they wrote. Some of these errors are pet peeves of mine and because it’s my Blog and no one but Enzo the Dog is here with me, and he agrees with everything I think and say, I WILL talk about one of them now.

At or near the top of my peeve list is the subject of REAL TIME. Movies, TV, take place in real time. Unless you use some story device to suspend real time, what you write that happens in a scene is supposed to happen in the time you describe... Ok. Let me give you an example:

EXT. OLDER OFFICE BUILDING -- DAY

Chester and Harry emerge from the building. Chester holds Harry by the ear and pulls him.

HARRY

Owww. Okay, okay. I said I'd go.

(Hey. My Blog isn't letting me format this right and I'm pissed, but what's new about that?)

That’s the whole scene. 1/8 of a page. Let’s break it down. Chester and Harry emerge from an office building door. Chester firmly gripping Harry by the ear, pulls him along. Harry says one line of dialogue.

If you saw this in real life on the street it would take, what, maybe 15 - 20 seconds at the longest to watch it. You saw it in real time. That 15 – 20 seconds it could/should really happen in is real time. Just like it’s described.

Now, an example of something I just read with major changes to protect the writer, but the gist of the scene is THE SAME:

INT. RESTAURANT - DINING AREA -- DAY

Bob and Bobette take their seats at the table. Bob reaches out his hand and takes hers in it.

 BOB

Wanna do the salad bar? I know you're on a diet and I'm trying to be more sensitive.

Bobette pulls her hand away.

BOBETTE

You trying to tell me I'm fat? I wore my skinny jeans.

BOB

No. Of course not. C'mon. Let's get a salad.

They stand and walk to the salad bar and make their salads, returning to their table, sitting down and eating.

BOBETTE

You know, this really is a good salad. Thank you for suggesting it.

Bob smiles triumphantly.

Let’s break this scene down. An unfeeling jerk tells his girlfriend she’s fat. She reacts, he brushes it off. I just timed it on the clock in my office. 10 seconds. Real time.

Then they get up, walk to the salad bar, and MAKE THEIR SALADS. I don’t know about you, but I don't want to take 4 or 5 minutes of my time to watch these clowns make a salad and take it back to their table and then EAT IT. That’s exactly what's described in the action line. It looks like the writer wants the audience to sit in silence watching these characters build a salad then take it back to the table and stuff their faces. Oh... the suspense of what dressing they choose. Will they like it or not? Is that arugula in her teeth?

Ok, we know that’s not what the writer wants, unless he’s insane or Andy Warhol, but that’s exactly what's described in the scene. Exactly. In real time.

Another example. I once got a script where an action line read something like this:

Billy stands by the side of the road and hitchhikes for an hour, watching cars pass him by, before a white Limousine pulls up.

I laughed. I called my friend Jeff Willis and read it to him and he laughed and said, “Man, that’s one long scene.” Yeah, as described even though it’s not what the writer meant, that scene as written uses an hour of screen time. With NOTHING going on. Action lines are literal. They happen in real time.

Good readers, pro readers, notice this stuff. They KNOW that’s not what the writer meant. They recognize the technical errors. But it IS what the writer wrote. It’s right there on the page. They know if you’re not on the ball enough to see these things, it’s gonna be a long read. It colors the way they look at your script from that point on. You need to pay attention to every word you write. They mean things.

Look back at your old scripts. I hope you don’t find these things. You might though. And from this day forward, think in real time. How long is exactly what I am describing going to take?

It’s such a simple thing.

 

It is. And film and TV is a business. It’s not some fantasy world. It’s not streets lined with gold. It’s all about doing the work and working well with other people. The key word being WORK. And Research is part of that work. And just like good writers research their topics before writing something, a good writer who is on the outside looking in should also research what it takes to try and get into this incredibly competitive business.

I’ve talked about the business of the actual screenwriting before. About marketing yourself. And how any screenwriter needs to understand it. But would be screenwriters also need to understand what they need to do before jumping head first into the very deep LA screenwriting pool. They need to do as much research about the hardship of screenwriting in LA as they do their screenplay subjects.

Now... a commercial break:

This blog is brought to you by a young man who I think jumped in head first with cement attached to his feet.

He’s stuck in LA with no money, no prospects, nowhere to live soon, and no completed screenplays to his name. To his credit he's sold some short screenplays in the past. Now I cannot say to whom, but as someone who’s sold short screenplays, my educated guess is they sold for very little money to unknown local directors looking to show themselves off. That’s what short films are ALL about. Directing. No one ever really notices the writing in short films because there isn’t enough of it to make an impression. Again, short films are all about the director. You want notice as a writer you write full length scripts. Film or TV.

But our young man who traveled from some distant place to Los Angeles for fame and fortune with his short film sales, went there with just an outline for a feature and his what I think are unrealistic dreams.

He’s been in LA a whole month now and is disheartened that it isn’t working out and that he’s already out of money. He still has yet to start writing his full length script and was wondering how to get a writing assistants job maybe. He should have researched how writing assistant jobs happen before he thought about leaving home. They’re as hard to get as any job in LA. But... not impossible if you do your homework, WRITE A FEW GOOD SCRIPTS, and methodically work toward it. Even if you live in the middle of Kansas someplace.

As for money,  he’s discovered LA is the Dyson Vacuum of money sucking places and probably could have planned for it better. LA makes money disappear from your pocket with each step you take. Yes, you can live in LA on the cheap IF YOU DO YOUR RESEARCH and work a couple of jobs.

I feel for him. I do. I understand where he is and why he's there. I was there once. I sold the first script I ever wrote to a studio. I was sure riches, fame, awards, and red carpets were my certain future. Surprise. The film didn’t get made. And right after that no one in the industry knew who I was and didn’t much care.

I regrouped and learned from it. Deep and hard lessons. I also worked other jobs.  Jobs that paid. And I put my nose down and worked on my writing and my marketing and didn’t give up. Had some options that went nowhere and a few small writing jobs in the years after and a mere TWENTY YEARS later I had my first produced film. Now I have seven and it's my only job. There are a lot of reasons for this. One... this time I was prepared for it and I saved money. I also never stopped writing and learning and improving. Listening to any expert or near expert and took what I heard to heart. Then I wrote more.

Moving to LA is huge step for any writer who doesn’t live there already. It shouldn’t be done without a realistic view of what’s in store. You’ll need plenty of money and the understanding that you’ll need to find gainful employment to support yourself as you try and make it. And as for success, well... it’s obviously not guaranteed, but please also understand that one or two options are not a career worth quitting a job or moving to LA for. 99% of options never get made. And of the ones that do, more than not, the films aren’t successful. Either not finding a legitimate distributor or an audience.

Set yourself a goal of money made on a consistent level before you decide to do this full time. And have some money saved. Because the time between jobs can be staggeringly long sometimes. And writing on spec doesn’t cut it.

Most film writers making a living in LA make that living with writing assignments, not their specs. But you knew that, right? And the competition for those writing jobs is staggering. Seasoned experienced writers are out there pitching themselves for those precious jobs every day. It is a LONG HAUL business. All (as in ALL) of the writers I know who are successful took YEARS to get there. YEARS. Not days or months. YEARS. Sorry if I’m overdoing it, but some people just don’t want to or can’t hear and understand this. You cannot count on being an exception either. So don’t.

You want to come to LA? I’m all for it. LA can be a pretty heady cool place. I’ve met some amazing people that will be lifelong friends. I’ve gotten to do what I dreamed for years of doing. Write films that people see. Does that overcome the years of setbacks and rejection? Hell yes.

But be smart about it. Be realistic about it. Do the research about what it takes to move to LA. Monetarily. And what you need in your portfolio. Finished, polished scripts that will make people notice you. Query from where you are first. Gauge the worth of your scripts. Get a manager from where you are if you can. That’s also not easy, but I know people out of state who have done it successfully. And when you move to LA have a plan. You can’t wing it. You do the work and research and you’re ahead of the thousands who try this without preparation and go home defeated when if they’d just done the work it takes, they might not have had to.

Let’s start this rant with a truth. There are no shortcuts to screenwriting success. There are no shortcuts to getting a film you wrote or a movie idea you have sold and made. There’s an old saying that any film that actually gets made is a miracle. Well, that’s true, too. In fact, it’s a damn miracle.

I cannot tell you the number of times I’ve heard, “I have these movie ideas that are better than anything out there. How do I get them to a studio so I can collect my millions?”

Movie ideas. When I was working on the set of Nash Bridges for those six seasons, everybody had an idea or script. The guy who watered the plants, the dolly grip, the extras (especially the extras), the boom operator, the set decorator (I read his script, it wasn’t bad)... you name it, they had a script or worse, an idea to sell.

Now, to be truthful again, I also had ideas and scripts then, too. And I was also trying to get them to anyone who would pay attention, like everyone else. So, I’m not denigrating the people who want to see their films made, ok? That I understand.

What I don’t understand is the non-willingness to work for it. I was just exposed to a person who had “the best ideas for films Hollywood’s ever seen, but I just want to sell the ideas, because writing a script would be too much work.”

I was happy to tell this person how they could do that. “First”, I told him, “you have to go to Fantasyland.”

What he was looking for was a shortcut to success. He’d think of an idea, one or two sentences of a story idea, then the studios, who have bags of money just lying around, would dip into those bags and give him untold millions and send him on his way while they hired a writer to write his fabulous idea and a director to direct it. And then he’d come back and have approval over all of it, to make sure they did “his” story justice. See what I mean about Fantasyland?

Everybody everywhere has a movie idea. I run into people with movie ideas all the time when they find out what I do for a living. I tell them what I will tell you: NOBODY BUYS IDEAS. NOBODY. They buy the execution of those ideas. They buy YOUR hard work turning that idea into a wham bang script.

Yes, writers sell pitches. (This is always the first thing I hear after I say NOBODY BUYS IDEAS.) But the people who buy those pitches are buying the writer who pitched it as much as the idea. They KNOW this writer can take that idea and make it something special because he/she has a track record of doing just that. Hell, I’ve sold a pitch. But I sold it to a Production Company I had already sold a script to and had done multiple writing assignments for. They knew what I could do with the idea. I earned that right with years and years of hard work.

If you want to sell an idea, write the script. Do the work. Do the research. Do the outlining, if that’s the way you do it. Write it. Then rewrite it. Then rewrite it again. And when you’ve done the work to get it ready to read, do the work it takes to get it out there. Get it vetted. Have people you trust to be honest with you read it. Listen to their notes. Then rewrite it again. Then query/network it. And if you get reads... know that patience is what you’ll need. Lots of patience.

The average time it takes from finishing a script to having that script made (again, a miracle) is eight (8) years. Eight years. Average time. Jeff Willis and I wrote (finished) The Right Girl in 2007. It got produced this year. Only seven years. Not bad. Better than average. Not much better, but better. The script I sold from the pitch that I’m rewriting now gets made middle of next year. I looked it up. I pitched it in 2012 and wrote the first draft last year. So, that’s three years. Again, not bad.

My big theatrical that gets made middle of next year? I looked it up and got a little sick. Wrote it in 1999. Sixteen years from when I wrote it originally to production. Sixteen years. Oh My God... sixteen years?

Ok... I’m fine now. Martini helped.

Ok, so it’s taken sixteen years. In between time, I did nothing but work my ass off, writing, writing, and marketing myself and my work. And learning hard truths.

THERE ARE NO SHORTCUTS.

There is no coming up with ideas and waiting for the cash to flow in. Doesn't happen. You want success? Do the hard work, execute those ideas brilliantly, and make miracles happen.

And above all, be patient.

(follow me on Twitter @bobsnz)

I get asked to critique screenplays all the time. I get them from production companies to read for my notes for possible rewrite jobs, from my manager for the same reasons (got one from him just five minutes ago), from friends who want me to read their latest and greatest, from strangers who think I’m going to read their script and give it to my good friend Steven Spielberg. (He’s not my friend, by the way. When I worked on Jurassic Park 2 he wasn’t even there, just the ILM effects guys who were fun as hell. We laughed the entire two days they shot me running and getting smashed by a T-Rex.)

Sometimes it’s fun, reading those scripts. When I read a bad one with a great premise and I can instantly see what needs to be done to fix it and know the notes will resonate and will probably get me a good crack the job. Sometimes it’s not fun. I’ve had to ask a producer (who I knew well enough to ask) after reading a script, “What would have possessed you to buy this piece of crap?” It can be fun when one of my friends writes a great one. And horrible when I get one from somebody that's irredeemable.

People who have asked me to read their scripts will tell you I do not pull punches. That doesn’t mean I’m nasty or make fun of the writing or subject matter, I just tell the truth as I see it, good or bad.

But you know who I am hardest on? Me. You should be too. No, not hard on me, on yourself.

Great writers I know are the ones who can say to themselves, after reading their own scripts, “This doesn’t work.”

Self-editing is essential to being a good writer. I’m not talking about fixing a typo or polishing dialogue. I’m talking about looking at whole scenes, whole sections, whole acts, and blowing them up if you have to.

Too often I meet and talk to writers who are convinced that their scripts are perfect as they are. If they were filmed as they wrote them, they’d win any award they can dream about. This is NOT TRUE, of course, but they believe it. I know I did when I first started writing, but then I was lucky enough to work around some pros who set me straight pretty quickly.

There is nothing in a script that can’t be improved or changed. I’m not talking about notes you get from others on occasion that make you throw up in your mouth a little, I’m talking about notes you get from YOU. You, as a writer, need to believe that there is nothing in your own scripts you can’t change to make your story improve. You need to view your own work with the same eyes you read other people's scripts. You need to be that critical. It will improve what you’re working on. It will improve your old work.

Got some time? Go back and read your old unsold scripts. Read them like you didn’t write them. You’ll be amazed at how much you’ll find you need to rewrite. How much you hate.

I have an old script that all of a sudden is gaining a lot of interest. Wrote it at least 8 years ago. Because of this renewed interest, I read it again and was appalled at what I saw. So I immediately embarked on a rewrite to fix the glaring weaknesses, overwritten dialogue, and a clichéd last page to beat all clichéd last pages. A 1980’s bad TV series episode last page. And this was after it had started gaining interest again. I’ve sent the new version out to the interested parties saying, “This is the version I want you to have, please.” So far, everyone agrees it’s a LOT better.

Now it has me looking back at everything I’ve written and making the changes I once thought none of my old scripts would ever need.

You, as a writer, have to be able to do the same thing. Be the hardest critic of your own work. Your stories need to be living, growing, ever changing things. Take them out and do a test drive every once in a while. Change the technology in them to reflect today. Fix the stupid dialogue. Blow up your bad second act if you have to. Get rid of characters that don’t work. Kill subplots that don’t move the story forward or fix them so they do. Be bold. Use your improved ability as a writer to bring all your work up to your standards today. You’ll discover all kinds of things and maybe resurrect an old script, making it new and exciting.

who I never met or talked to in my life. The answer is No.

I cannot. I can’t give you any shortcuts either, because there are none. This is something you’re going to have to do yourself. But thanks for asking. Oh… do you know ANYTHING about me? Except the fact that you think I’m a working screenwriter? Did you think in our First Contact ever I was just going to say, “Sure. I’ll do everything in my power to get you a manager and agent.”?

Ok. I know that sounds obnoxious, but C’MON.

By the end of this year, I’ll have 8 produced and distributed films with my name credited as a writer. Eight. Most of them for Cable Networks for sure, but the ones released so far have great ratings. I have an original theatrical film that has a start date in June with a cast brewing I can only dream about. (Soon to be announced so I can talk more specifically) I have another original theatrical script optioned to a very good Production Company in New York who say they want to make it next year.

Now… you’re thinking this guy sure likes to talk about himself. There’s a point. I do not have an agent. Again… with all that… I do not have an agent. Can’t even get one interested. Why? Beats the hell out of me. One friend told me the other day he thinks I’m the “hardest working unknown screenwriter in LA”. I understand your frustration at being agentless, but when you have to ask a relatively unknown like me to help get you something I don’t even have myself? Just... wow…

Yes, I do have a manager. He’s been pretty good. Gotten me in a few rooms and I’ve turned those meetings into money for him.

How did I get him? By networking. After knowing a director for YEARS and him liking my work enough to option a script, he recommended me to my Manager. Then the manager read my work and liked it enough to take me on. I’ve had my manager for two and half years and in that time I’ve had multiple writing jobs for production companies, multiple rewrite jobs, and 4 produced films with 4 more on the horizon this year. Yes, a manager makes a difference.

He took me on because he read my work and thought he could make money from it. Not because I was a nice guy… or any kind of guy. He also liked the fact that I have a two foot tall stack of original scripts that he thought were very good.

YES. There are the exceptions you hear and read about, but I guarantee you the real story behind them is not unlike mine. Someone worked and worked on their craft and wrote and wrote and wrote and then networked or queried the right way. Most all overnight successes took years to get there.

You want an agent? A manager? Write GREAT scripts. More than one. Then query. And wait. And wait some more. Then query again. You can also spend money on something like the Black List, which for the right person with the right script can work, but again you need to write something GREAT. Not good. Great.

And don’t approach other people to do your work for you. People you don’t even know. Do the work yourself. Learn to network properly (see my blog on networking) and query intelligently. Learn about the people you’re querying. It’s all out there.

I wish you nothing but good fortune and success. There’s room for everyone to do well, but do it with a plan. And know it takes frigging time.

Thanks for letting me vent at your expense.

The amount of time between my Blogs varies. From as little as a couple of days to a couple of weeks. It all depends on what strikes me as a good reason to blog. I thought about it a few days ago when I was struggling to come up with a topic and decided to forget blogging until something happened organically.

Happened this morning. Another remark I read from a self professed new writer on Done Deal Pro. (Again, if you’re not visiting this website as a screenwriter you’re doing yourself an injustice, IMO). This writer had some innocuous questions about screenwriting and then got to his/her concern. Money. How much money will I make? Who gets paid the most, TV or Feature Writers?

Money. Riches. Some of that movie and TV money they throw in bushels at writers, who write while lounging in their opulent backyards by their pool.

You can generally separate new writers into two categories most of the time after talking to them.

1. Writers who love to write and create and want to see their work on the screen and are willing to put in the time and hard work to learn the craft of writing. Writers who would LOVE to make a living writing, but the money isn’t the ultimate goal. They live to write.

2. Writers who do it for what they think is the untold riches and fame they’ll get after they sell their masterpiece for millions.

If you’re in the first category, it’s easy to spot. You struggle over the craft. You vet every word of your script. Your worry about acts and turning points and character development and story. You care. You care a lot.

If you’re in the latter category. You want to know how big the checks are.

Sorry, Charlie. The checks aren’t nearly as big as you think. They can be good, if you can write well enough to get paid. But I’ve found the ones who end up getting paid are the writers in category 1.

And the chances are, even then, your first checks will be small. Non-union independent film small. A thousand to five thousand dollars small and maybe even less depending on who you deal with. I know because that’s where I started and where most of my friends who write started. Some are still trying to get started. Some have even given their scripts away for a writing credit. (Writing for nothing is another Blog, but know I am firmly against it.)

Chances also are very good your first check will be for an option and not a sale, anyway. Maybe for as little as a dollar or as much as a hundred dollars, with a few thousand due if they make the film. Most all (MOST ALL) optioned scripts never get made. Most all specs scripts never get made for that matter. So the chances are very good the most you might get for your optioned script is that dollar.

(By the way, to understand why specs have hit the tank and to understand from a knowledgeable insider why Hollywood has so radically changed in the last few years, I HIGHLY recommend Lynda Obst’s FABULOUS book, “Sleepless in Hollywood”. BUY IT. READ IT. It will open your eyes and scare you at the same time. I couldn’t put it down.)

So… If you’re trying to be a “screenwriter” for the big bucks, I’d reassess my goals if I was you. A Producer friend said to me not too long ago that “Screenwriting is the new Acting” when it comes to people trying to break in for the fame and fortune of it. (There’s a joke in there someplace) He’s never seen so many scripts. Well, bad scripts. Great scripts do tend to find their way to the top. There’s just damn few of them. Of all the scripts writers have given me to read in the last five years, I can count the great ones on two fingers. Not good ones. GREAT ones. And both of those were period pieces that right now are almost impossible to sell. (READ Lynda Obst’s Book)

Writer John Gary (@johngary on twitter) wrote a series of really harsh tweets you should look up and read on what he calls the Hope Machine, warning writers how impossible it is to attain their dreams of writing for a living. That if they’re going to write scripts, they need to do it for the joy of creation, not hopes of careers or money. (If I got your point wrong please excuse me, John) It was terrific and depressing at the same time. And a really good lesson in reality. (And read Lynda Obst’s BOOK, which I am NOT getting paid to shill, by the way)

Don’t chase dollars. It’s a chase you will not win. Yes, I will admit, I do make a pretty ok living as a screenwriter. But only in the last few years. It took me twenty years of writing poverty to get there. And… I’m still not in the WGA and have only had representation for maybe two years. After TWENTY YEARS of working at it. Learning. Writing and writing and writing.

Now… The film I wrote that goes into production later this year changes that, but for now, I get paid semi-well to write for non-union, mostly cable TV movie houses. It’s great work. Abundant work for me and an incredible training ground in Production and Development. I worked my ass off to get here and if all I was chasing was money to begin with, I would have given up a LONG time ago and be working at Home Depot.

Oh and I do have a pool, but not because of my writing.