The Writer Rollercoaster

I go out to breakfast with bunch of guys occasionally, friends who are not in the Film or TV business. They’re always interested in what I’m doing because as my friend Chris says, “Nobody else we know does what you do.” My question back was, “What do you think I do?”

Before I reveal their answers, I’ll pass on an experience that I had not long ago. We were out at a social gathering, again not an industry gathering, and an older woman my wife and I have met before but don’t really know that well came up and asked me, “Are you still writing your skits?” I told her I was and she smiled and said, “That’s nice. What do you do for a job?” I thought about my standard answer “A jockey at the dog races” and decided not to be a smart ass and tell her the truth. “I am constantly looking for new jobs.” She looked confused, smiled, and said, “I had no idea. I hope you find one.” and probably went off to gossip about how I was an unemployed bum. Which at the moment is true. So ok...

Back to my friends at breakfast. When I asked, “What do you think I do?” I was met with some interesting answers from all them.

“You get to hang out with movie and TV stars.” Uhhh. NO. I’ve met some. I’ve worked with some. Because of the TV series I did I’ve remained good friends with some. But that’s not my job.

“You write movies, so I guess... you write what they say?” No. I write the whole story. I write everything they do and say.

“Doesn’t the director come up with what they do?” No. I write what they do and the director films it the way he or she wants to. True, most of the time the director can change any of it. But to start with, I write the whole story.

“Wow. I thought the actors made up a lot of what they said.” No. They don’t. That’s why there are writers. For most TV series there’s a room full of writers mapping out everything that happens on the show including everything they say.

“Ok. But like for your Christmas movie, all the magic stuff like her book and the purse that made money and her ears changing (at least he watched it), you made all that up?” I did.

“That must be hard.” It isn’t easy to do it well.

“So you write everything they say and do. I never knew that.” That’s ok. Most people don’t. In our insulated world we like to think they do, but in reality, they don’t. Not a clue. And to be honest, most don’t care. They just want to be entertained and the writer is last person that comes to mind.

On my way home, that exchange got me thinking. What do I do? I came up with an answer I think is true and scary at the same time.

You really want to know what I do? I ride a rollercoaster. That’s my job. A business and emotional rollercoaster that can never stop, because if it does, I’m through.

You want to be writer? Grab your ticket and come aboard. This rollercoaster goes higher and dips lower than any amusement park ride ever. It corkscrews longer and when you get to the upside down loop it sometimes stops and leaves you hanging, making you sick on occasion. And if you’re not ready for it, it can toss you out on your ass. Or... you have the ability stop it and walk away. Not many do that because once you get to one of those high parts, you want to get there again.

New writers are anxious to hop on, in the front seat if they can, anticipating that rise, their arms thrust up high, thinking the exhilarating ride with be nothing but joy with bags of money tossed on board as the ride takes them on red carpets with cameras flashing.

Wow. Does that sound bitter? I hope not. I don’t want it to.

I’ve had some pretty great highs. Wind rushing through what’s left of my hair. A feeling like no other. I want it again. And again. I look at the stack of DVDs on my desk of the films I wrote or wrote on and I still have to pinch myself sometimes. It is the best part of the ride.

I’m sitting on the edge of a few more highs right now. Not there yet and because it’s screenwriting it’s NOT on my timetable. Yes, it’s frustrating. Kinda like the slow ride up that first climb and never getting to the top. Or hanging upside down. Or both at the same time.

I also experienced an unexpected huge dip in the ride last week which left me uncharacteristically angry and depressed. This is the part of the ride my wife hates because she can’t make it better. Not that I haven’t been there before, because every successful writer has been there and will be again, but this was so unexpected and so disappointing that it made me think, just for a split second, “Do I need to get off?” or worse “Am I being thrown off?”

No. I’m not getting off. I’m sitting down today and starting a new script. I’m riding the climb from the bottom back up and I’m reaching out for new gold rings and having faith that the old gold rings that have been promised will be there. I’m been on the ride too long to do anything else.

You want to be a screenwriter? This is the ride. This is what you get on. And it’s powered by your creativity, your hard work, your determination, endless patience, luck, skill, networking, and your ability to endure a wide array of emotion. How you handle the highs with humility knowing they don’t last and your ability to survive the subterranean valleys. And your determination to grab onto the ride and swing yourself back on after you’ve been thrown off if you have to.

And it’s a ride that’s operated by people who control all of it and none of those people is you. You do have some control over the quality of the ride however. How you conduct yourself on it. The quality of your work. How you interact with the ride supervisors as you pass them by, reaching for that golden ring they hold out.

And the movie going and TV watching public? They have no idea you’re even on it.

Follow me on Twitter. @bobsnz

5 thoughts on “The Writer Rollercoaster

  1. Taylor McCleve

    Once again, Bob, you’ve hit so many wonderful points,that too few unproduced screenwriters grasp: the road to “success” is a long, and quite often, thankless one, and the reason I put success in quotes is because our perspective of success differs wildly from writer to writer. Yours most likely aligns with what most people assume a successful writer is: you’ve been produced and paid for your work, which is probably why your friends who aren’t in the industry don’t fully appreciate the rollercoaster as you’ve pointed out. Yet, even to us writers who haven’t had the same level of success, I think there still exists a lot of misconceptions that probably echo those of your friends.

    As someone who has only been paid for my work once (though it was a stageplay, not a screenplay), I can certainly understand where these writers are coming from, as I think all of us have (at some point when we started out) held that misconception that once you sell something, you’re set for the rest of your career, which as you’ve pointed out is rarely the case. Hell, there are Oscar winning writers who have disappeared into obscurity after a while, so one thing that needs to be reiterated is that there is no such thing as an industry tenure that exists for a writer (or, really, anyone in any part of the industry, actors, producers, and directors included). In fact, it’s really only a tiny percentage of industry professionals who have guaranteed their position: the Spielbergs and Tarantinos who have spent decades at the top and, honestly, are so well-established and well-known that even just having their name attached to a project can pretty much guarantee its chances of being green-lit, even if it doesn’t go on to being a box-office success.

    I think it’s very important for all of us writers to understand this point, not because it’s meant to discourage, but because reminding ourselves that even the best of the best aren’t guaranteed a job, so we always need to keep our expectations in check lest we give up too easily.

    I’ve spent most of my career dedicating a lot of my time on writing forums, both asking for general advice and giving it, and one of the most unfortunate and common posts I see are from very green writers who are throwing in the towel because they assume they’ll never “make it.” Regardless of their actual writing talent, the first few negative notes, or lukewarm reaction to their writing, makes them assume it’s impossible to break through. I always feel really bad for those newer (and even established) writers who feel like the time has come to give it up, because, to me anyway, writing in any form is such a cathartic and rewarding effort; even when it’s being done solely for the writer’s sake (like writing a personal journal). What you’ve written in this entry is pretty much the standard response these newbies get when they bemoan their perceived failures, though sometimes not so eloquently or tactful.

    I’d also like to add my perspective on the matter, since I’m probably about twenty years behind you in terms of skill and experience. As I mentioned, I’ve only been paid once for my writing, so I have a different idea of “success,” but that’s not to imply that I don’t view myself as successful. I think the most important thing a less-established writer like myself can do is re-define their idea of success. Obviously, we view being produced and paid for our work as true success, which it is, but there are also so many other milestones of success that I think too many writers overlook or ignore completely, which is probably why they throw in the towel so easily.

    My idea of success is getting a message from a total stranger who has just finished reading one of my drafts and tells me just how much it moved them, or how much it entertained them; or watching the reaction of a friend’s face as they silently read a draft, spotting the subtle emotions they display as they turn the pages.

    To me, a successful writer is one who has moved their audience, even if their audience is only a handful of friends and/or other writers they’re getting notes from. After all, the true purpose of story-telling has always been more than just simply providing entertainment; it’s also about sharing an intimate view into the writer’s mind, regardless of plot or genre. We give the readers/viewers a glimpse into the most private recesses of our minds, and when we can elicit any kind of emotion in them, we have succeeded in the best way possible.

    I think remembering this most basic point behind storytelling is a great way for both established and unestablished writers to remind ourselves that we may very well be much more successful than we think, and that as long as we are reaching our audience in a visceral way, then we truly have succeeded.

  2. Carolyn

    I would be okay with being in the middle seat of the roller coast, the most stable. I’m in it for the ride.

    Bear with me, this is related:
    What you say is true for anyone in The Arts, not just writing. My brother started early life admitting, “I want to be a drummer.” This was met with more resistance than if he had said, “I want to be an astronaut” which, I believe, would have garnered at least more respect, and the belief of studying science and feasibility in comparison. My brother never wavered in his desire to bang on his drum all day (love that song!) and his single-minded focus had him practice 8 hours a day or more, get a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree in Music Performance, which he paid for by teaching and giving up proms, relationships, events, for auditions, and networking (he hates networking) and while weathering the roller coaster, the dips, ups and downs, hunt for jobs and make sacrifices. He also hates answering the question, “What do you do for a living?” He’s a Tony-award winning, union card holding, Broadway musician in a long running show. When he answers the question, he’s met with, “You’re so lucky!” No, luck has nothing to do with it. Talent, persistence, dedication, practice, focus. When visiting home, hIs first boss in a local Subway asked him, “So do you still play music with your friends once in awhile?” To which he simply answered, “Yes.” (He’s friends with the cast and other musicians now.) My brother can at least mention the show he is in. How many people know what live musicians are playing under the stage, or can name them? Nobody.

    When people ask writers, “Have you written anything I’d know?” The truth is that they know works and love them, but they don’t know who wrote them. Give people this exercise, “Name your top five favorite movies” and then after they rattle off five, ask, “Who wrote them?” Watch the stunned silence followed by, “Gee, um..?” once in awhile, you get someone who knows one answer, or two, out of their five favorite movies. So, it’s no surprise to me that this exercise alone tells me that the audience gets distracted from “Who’s the writer?” like a magician assistant’s slight of hand. If they cannot answer that simple question, how can they possibly know, “What does a writer do?” and figure that out in all its complexity. No wonder they hold such disregard for writers. I just secretly pretend they’re hoping I say I am an astronaut. Nope. Writer. They should value that because of the number of words around them in life. Words are everywhere, someone wrote them.. let’s just hope they’re getting paid to do so!

    Rant over.. thanks, Bob

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