This article makes for interesting reading for any wannabe writer trying to break into the biz. Each writer talks about their influences, their big break, and a little bit about how they pursue their craft.
Also note that as I argued in this post, all of these writers came to Los Angeles in order to begin their careers as screenwriters... even the playwright who'd had a dozen plays produced in New York realized that if she wanted to make it in the movie business, she needed to be here.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Hilarious Hollywood-related e-mail forward of the day
Here's the backstory. A couple of weeks ago a company here in town bought a script that was described as a spoof of a popular TV series from the 70's.
Allegedly, an executive at the company which controls the rights to the original character decided to send a letter to an executive at the other company asserting his belief that this new script infringes upon rights held by the first company.
He wrote:
-----------------
Executive X-
Please give me a call about a spec script called XXXX. As you know, along with XXXXX, we control the rights to XXXX. My understanding is this spec includes characters we own.
Best- Executive Y
-----------------
Well the response he got is PURE comedy gold. Enjoy!
-----------------
Executive Y-
Good news. As you may know, The United States Supreme Court has affirmed the right of Parody as an unassailable First Amendment Right. This has enabled you to make movies like XXXX and XXXX in which you parody many films which (your company) does not own or control.
The script is a parody and if you have any problems I suggest you hire a Constitutional lawyer and file a brief with the US Supreme Court. This will be an uphill battle - the court voted 9 to 0 when this last hit the docket and those stubborn justices all believe in Stare Decisis!
And if you succeed at the Supreme Court - you will have to stop making XXXX and XXXX.
This will take about 5 to 7 years...and lawyers are an expensive breed but I wish you good luck on your journey to deny our First Amendment rights.
All the best
Executive X
----------------
Genius!
* Because I have no first-hand knowledge that these e-mails are real or even accurate, I have decided to remove all the names of the people, companies, and projects involved.
Sorry 'bout that, but this is a fledgling blog offering "how-to" information most Hollywood folks would rather you didn't have, and I don't need that kind of heat.
Allegedly, an executive at the company which controls the rights to the original character decided to send a letter to an executive at the other company asserting his belief that this new script infringes upon rights held by the first company.
He wrote:
-----------------
Executive X-
Please give me a call about a spec script called XXXX. As you know, along with XXXXX, we control the rights to XXXX. My understanding is this spec includes characters we own.
Best- Executive Y
-----------------
Well the response he got is PURE comedy gold. Enjoy!
-----------------
Executive Y-
Good news. As you may know, The United States Supreme Court has affirmed the right of Parody as an unassailable First Amendment Right. This has enabled you to make movies like XXXX and XXXX in which you parody many films which (your company) does not own or control.
The script is a parody and if you have any problems I suggest you hire a Constitutional lawyer and file a brief with the US Supreme Court. This will be an uphill battle - the court voted 9 to 0 when this last hit the docket and those stubborn justices all believe in Stare Decisis!
And if you succeed at the Supreme Court - you will have to stop making XXXX and XXXX.
This will take about 5 to 7 years...and lawyers are an expensive breed but I wish you good luck on your journey to deny our First Amendment rights.
All the best
Executive X
----------------
Genius!
* Because I have no first-hand knowledge that these e-mails are real or even accurate, I have decided to remove all the names of the people, companies, and projects involved.
Sorry 'bout that, but this is a fledgling blog offering "how-to" information most Hollywood folks would rather you didn't have, and I don't need that kind of heat.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Minor screenwriting pet peeve
Be careful with unnecessarily obvious exposition in your screenplay dialogue. Rather than have one of your characters just flat out tell us a crucial piece of information, I like to see writers get a little more creative about letting crucial information slip out naturally so that the exposition is as unobtrusive as possible.
It's pretty common, for instance, for action heroes to have a background as "a former something or other." It's gotten to be a pretty serious cliche. Now that's not to say you shouldn't use it, ever... because it almost always makes sense for a guy who's going to spend two hours kicking ass to have at least some training in the fine art of ass-kicking. But you have to be clever about it. Nothing makes me cringe more than when I'm watching a movie and some character or another describes the hero by saying... "oh that's Bob Jones... he's a former Navy SEAL who fought in Kuwait during Gulf War I and got kicked out of the Navy for punching out his commanding officer."
I mean come on...
It goes back to one of my earlier posts where I cautioned you to be sure you write dialogue that sounds like people actually talking. It's hard to imagine an actual human being introducing someone by spelling out his entire resume.
Find a way for that information to flow naturally. Maybe instead when that character introduces the hero, the person he's meeting could say something like "yeah we know each other from the Navy."
Rare will be the times when you'll hear the Commander cite Steven Seagal movies as examples of great writing, but I have to give UNDER SIEGE credit for coming up with a clever riff on the "former etc. etc." cliche... Even though Steven spends the first half of the movie performing ridiculous feats of derring-do, he continues to insist through out that he's "just a cook." But he does it with a smile on his face and the claim rings SO hollow that by the time his former Commanding Officer ends the suspense by listing off his seemingly endless list of military accomplishments, we're ready for it, and the result is more comic than annoyingly cliched.
Just be smart about it. Lazy writing is boring writing, and the quickest path I've found to get your script passed on by everybody in town.
It's pretty common, for instance, for action heroes to have a background as "a former something or other." It's gotten to be a pretty serious cliche. Now that's not to say you shouldn't use it, ever... because it almost always makes sense for a guy who's going to spend two hours kicking ass to have at least some training in the fine art of ass-kicking. But you have to be clever about it. Nothing makes me cringe more than when I'm watching a movie and some character or another describes the hero by saying... "oh that's Bob Jones... he's a former Navy SEAL who fought in Kuwait during Gulf War I and got kicked out of the Navy for punching out his commanding officer."
I mean come on...
It goes back to one of my earlier posts where I cautioned you to be sure you write dialogue that sounds like people actually talking. It's hard to imagine an actual human being introducing someone by spelling out his entire resume.
Find a way for that information to flow naturally. Maybe instead when that character introduces the hero, the person he's meeting could say something like "yeah we know each other from the Navy."
Rare will be the times when you'll hear the Commander cite Steven Seagal movies as examples of great writing, but I have to give UNDER SIEGE credit for coming up with a clever riff on the "former etc. etc." cliche... Even though Steven spends the first half of the movie performing ridiculous feats of derring-do, he continues to insist through out that he's "just a cook." But he does it with a smile on his face and the claim rings SO hollow that by the time his former Commanding Officer ends the suspense by listing off his seemingly endless list of military accomplishments, we're ready for it, and the result is more comic than annoyingly cliched.
Just be smart about it. Lazy writing is boring writing, and the quickest path I've found to get your script passed on by everybody in town.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Friday Night movie quote
Jill: You saved his life!
Harmonica: I didn't let THEM kill him, and that's not the same thing.
- ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST
Harmonica: I didn't let THEM kill him, and that's not the same thing.
- ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Hey... I owe you some answers on a few first act breaks, don't I?
OK, so as you read these, bear in mind that I'm doing this from memory... so if I remember some scenes out of order or if you think I've remembered the act breaks wrong, feel free to challenge me in the comments, as it quite possible that my memory has failed me on the order of a scene or two. Also, if the title of this post means nothing to you, check out this previous post on Screenplay Structure, where I discussed The First Act and left you with a challenge to try and identify where the first act ends in three popular movies.
Now that that's all out of the way, here we go:
STAR TREK: THE WRATH OF KAHN - Kahn forces Chekov to contact Carol Marcus on Regula One to let her know that the Reliant is coming to take possession of Genesis under the orders of Admiral James T. Kirk, knowing full well that Carol will try to confirm the order with Kirk. She does, but Kirk is unable to understand what she's saying because Kahn is jamming the signal. Unable to stop being the hero even for a second, and chomping at the bit to get back in the Captain's chair, Kirk takes it upon himself to re-assume command of the Enterprise in order to find out what the hell is happening... just as Kahn, and his superior intellect, knew he would. The First Act officially ends when Kirk gets on the ship-wide intercom and announces that he is assuming command of the ship, they are embarking on a combat mission, and that he's going to need this boatload of recruits to grow up a little faster than they'd planned.
THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN - Chris and Vin have accepted the contract to protect the village, but based on their tactical plan, they know they cannot get the job done with less than seven men. Nevertheless, as the deadline for leaving town approaches, their rigorous interview process has yielded only six reliable recruits. It's a tense ride to the village, as each man realizes they are probably riding to their deaths at the hands of Caldera's overwhelming manpower... and yet as they ride, Vin notices that someone is following them. It turns out to be Chico, who is determined to jon the group despite his humiliation at Chris' hands during the interview. Impressed with his pluck and determination, Chris allows him to join the team... as they ride on, Vin looks at Chris, smiles, and holds up seven fingers. The teams is set, and Act One has ended.
DIE HARD - John McClane arrives at Nakatomi. At this point we've met most of the crucial supporting characters... Argyle, Takagi, Holly, and of course Ellis. Nakatomi has mentioned the important tactical information we need to know about the building... no one is here but the party-goers on 30, several floors are under construction, etc. etc. John tries to be civil with Holly but his temper gets the better of him and the last words they say to one another are in anger. She storms back to the party, while he throws water on his face in an attempt to relax. Meanwhile the terrorists seal off the elevators, effectively blocking off any escape from the 30th floor, and then start shooting up the party. McClane peeks out into the hallway, sees he is hopelessly outnumbered, and only has time to grab his gun and duck into a stairwell before the gunmen check the office where he has been hiding. Now he's alone in the stairwell with a single gun, no shoes, and no way to call for help. Our story has begun, and act one has ended.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Where to I go to be a movie star?
The title of this post is a line from Steve Martin's fantastic Hollywood satire BOWFINGER... Heather Graham, looking every inch like she just arrived from Muncie, Indiana, climbs off a Greyhound bus in Hollywood, plaid patterned suitcase in hand, and asks the very first person she sees, "Hi, where do I go to be a movie star."
That's a bit like how I felt when I got to town. My University film education had consisted mostly of running around campus with a 16mm camera shooting short films about guys slowly going crazy. It was fun, but there was a fundamental lack of education in the reality of what I would be doing in Hollywood, eight o'clock, Day One.
Because the reality is that you are not going to come to town and be a working screenwriter that same week... or a director, or an agent, or a producer, for that matter. A few do, but it's such a tiny percentage of the people who come to town looking for fame and fortune that it isn't even really worth fantasizing about. I once debated with a friend whether or not a particular actress would ever make it as a movie star, and when I argued that she was really talented, he replied "The road to Hollywood is littered with the bodies of talented actresses." He was kidding of course, but he had a point... if everyone who came to Hollywood bought a lottery ticket their first day in town, chances are that after ten years, twice as many would have hit the lottery jackpot than would have found the fame and fortune they were looking for without a good five years of hard work struggling up that ladder.
So, here you are. You just graduated from college, or you've quit your job at the widget factory in Muncie and you're ready to move out to Hollywood and give your dreams a chance. Chances are you're going to be working as an assistant until your big break comes... whether that break is selling a screenplay, getting promoted to agent, or getting hired as a creative executive by some producer... just about everyone does at least SOME time on some Hollywood big shot's desk as an assistant.
I'm not going to tell you it's fun. It can be exciting, sure... this is a really interesting, flashy, high-profile business and being a part of it, even a small part, is definitely a rush. But the hours are long, the pay is crap, and too many of the bosses can be complete A-holes... I don't know why these things are true, there are lots of theories... but I think it has something to do with the fact that there are a finite number of jobs available, and TONS of bright-eyed kids with stars in their eyes who want those jobs, and so the business feels a little more free to jerk people around, knowing that if a given employee gets frustrated or angry and storms off, there is a literal army of replacements standing just outside the door waiting to take over.
How bad can it get? Check out a film called SWIMMING WITH SHARKS... the writer/director George Huang worked for some of the legendary jerkweed bosses in the business and claims that he based a lot of the horrible things Kevin Spacey does to Frank Whaley's character in the film, on things that his bosses did to him when he was an assistant.
It may not be fair, but it's the way it is.
But there are some things you can do to prepare yourself for life as an assistant, and that's really what this post is about... I want to give you an idea of what you're in for so that you can make that big move with full disclosure under your belt.
First, before you get to Hollywood, spend some time reading Variety and the NY Times Sunday calendar section on-line where the major headlines are free. The best way to get a boost in this business, to start off just a hair above everyone else in town, is to know who's who and how they relate to the other who's whos. Who runs Warner Bros? Who is the President of Production and who is the Studio Head? What's the difference? What about New Line? What kinds of movies do the various studios seem to specialize in? Who's just had a great summer and who is about to get fired because every summer blockbuster flopped like a dead turkey? You're going to need to know this stuff eventually, so the earlier you get started, the better for your career.
But assuming you're here already, and are looking for that first assistant gig, what can you expect?
Agent assistants typically start their day between 8am and 8:45am. Producer assistants and assistants who work for Studio Executives typically begin their days a little bit later, say 9 or 9:30. Most folks who work in the biz "roll calls" from the car on the way in every morning and again on the way home... both returning phone calls from the night before and putting out calls they hope will generate business during the day. It's the assistant's job to keep track of what calls have been made, which calls need to be returned, and what needs to be done as a result of each call connected. Agents are typically calling producers and executives trying to find out what jobs they need writers, directors, or actors for, and then trying to sell those executives on the idea of hiring their clients for those jobs. If the executive is unfamiliar with a given client, it's the assistant's job to get the appropriate material to that executive so they can be educated on the artist in question. Producers and Studio folks do just the opposite. Generally they are calling agents or the artists themselves trying to get people attached to write, direct, or star in their movies.
As an assistant you'll also be responsible for making your boss' schedule, and for typing up letters, keeping up a Rolodex, booking lunch reservations, as well as various and sundry other annoying administrative....things....
If this sounds like secretary work, that's because it is. Yeah I know it's tough to swallow, especially when you could be sitting on a hundred thousand dollars worth of degrees or more, as I was. But there is an upside.
For one thing, if your boss grows to like you and trust your taste, they will often ask you to read scripts for them, and sometimes, to do "coverage" or a set of "notes." Believe me, if you want to be an agent or a production executive, you're going to need to know how to break down a set of notes, or analyze a script via a good piece of coverage. If you don't know what either of those things are, don't worry... no one taught me either. I'll try to take a crack at both in future posts.
Beyond that, something to know about the upside of being an assistant is that the business plays very fast and loose with the "rules" for moving up the ladder and it's more than willing to let really clever and industrious assistants figure out unorthodox ways to get ahead. You will be on the front lines and trusted with an awful lot of access to the inner workings of the business, so if you bust your ass, work hard, and do a great job, sooner or later someone will promote you and give you a shot. If you want to be an agent or an executive, working your way up from the assistant ranks is pretty much the only reliable way to get there.
On the other hand, if you want to be a writer, being an assistant will afford you plenty of time to write, as well as good access to the people you will need to know in order to get your career going. Most of the writers I know have gotten a helping hand along the way from someone they worked for as an assistant.
Whew... that's quite a brain dump for one post on what to do when you first get to town. I think I've covered most of the relevant topics, but if there's something missing, or if you have a follow-up question, feel free to leave a comment or, as always, I am available by e-mail.
Cheers from Shears!
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Screenplay Structure - Part 1
A whopping ONE reader left a comment saying a discussion of Structure would be helpful (Thanks "T")... now most people would probably argue that one person is not enough to spark a long detailed discussion of screenplay craft... but in Shears' case, one person could be as much as 50% of my total readership... so who am I to resist those kind of overwhelming numbers. Vlad Guerrero would kill for a .500 batting average after all...
Screenplays, ALL screenplays, must be written in three acts. Are there exceptions to this rule? Yes, of course, but they are few and far between and in 99% of cases, if you can't fit your story into a three act screenplay, it's either a bad or fundamentally flawed idea, or the story would work better in some other format.., a novel or short story, for example. Truth is, you give me a movie you think occurs in more or less than three acts, and I'll bet you a can of crisco I can prove you wrong... (now if THAT doesn't generate a flood of e-mails, nothing will! :-)).
So what are these three acts... well before we get into that I'm going to steal an idea from the Libertas guys... before you start writing, you need to be able to encapsulate your idea into one sentence... what we Hollywood eggheads call a "logline." For instance, the logline for RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK might read something like "An adventure-seeking Archaeologist must track down a potentially dangerous Biblical artifact before the Nazis can use it to conquer the world." That one-liner, as the Libertas guys point out, will tell you exactly how your story breaks down into three acts.
Act one is where you'll introduce your characters and let the audience know what problem he (or they) will be forced to solve. In Act Two, your hero will go about the process of actually tring to solve the problem you've presented him with. Act Two typically ends at a low point in the hero's story... a moment where all seems lost. And finally, in Act 3, the hero re-engages the problem, gets his second wind, and ultimately comes out the other side victorious... or at least having come full circle in some way. I say that because it's important to remember that every movie doesn't have to have a happy ending, but if the ending IS a downer, you are still responsible, as a writer, for giving your hero some kind of character arc that justifies the story you've just asked your audience to spend two hours watching. As a quick example, in AMERICAN BEAUTY, Kevin Spacey's character is killed at the end (bummer), but having gone through the experiences provided by that story leaves an indelible impression on the other characters which makes their lives better for having known and interacted with him (whoo-hoo!)... the ending is ultimately uplifting, even though our hero is gunned down in cold blood.
Act One generally runs anywhere from 20-35 pages, where one page equals one minute of screen time, depending on the genre. Action movies tend to be short on character development and usually come with a requirement to get right to the action or risk losing the audience... in other words, action movie audiences require a certain amount of cutting to the chase, and are willing to sacrifice deep character development for it. As a result, you'll generally see the first act of an action movie run on the short side, say 20 pages or so. Dramas like THE GODFATHER, APOCALYPSE NOW or THE KILLING FIELDS may run longer because so much more is required of the screenplay writer in setting up the story and the characters who will go through it, and where so much less of the story will need to be filled up by action sequences.
Let's look at a couple of First Act examples.
RADIERS OF THE LOST ARK - I start with RAIDERS for a couple of reasons... 1) it's flat-out one of the best movies ever made, and a textbook example of the three act structure, and 2) Spielberg and Lucas were trying to make a movie that was an homage to the classic serials they went to see at movie houses when they were kids, and as such, they added interstitial scenes which effectively break up the 3 acts for us. Back in the 40's and 50's, folks would spend all day at the movies, sometimes seeing two or three episodes in long-running serials where stories played out over months rather than hours, and audiences were expected to get up and move around, or go to the snack stand every now-and-then, and thus needed clear act breaks to tell them what was going on from one minute to the next.
Before we start, we must agree on what RAIDERS is about? To do that, let's go back to the logline I wrote earlier... "An adventure-seeking Archaeologist must track down a potentially dangerous Biblical artifact before the Nazis can use it to conquer the world." OK, so if that's our logline, what do we need to do in Act One? We need to introduce our main character Indiana Jones and the world he lives in, we need to tell the audience about this dangerous Biblical artifact, and we need to start Indy off on his journey to find it. That's it. Pretty simple right?
So how did this work out in practice... well, right off the bat they tell us with a graphic that the movie is set in 1938. We watch as a group of men make their way through an impenetrable jungle. We see Indy find a poisoned dart and we learn from his compadres that the bad guys are, at most, 3 days away. We see one of his team attempt a double cross and we watch Indy disarm a gunman with a whip. Later, Indy disarms several deadly and ingenious booby traps using an extensive knowledge of archaeology. We then meet his arch-enemy, Beloq, a proper Frenchman who, rather than getting involved in the wet work himself, prefers to show up in a white suit after Indy has done all the hard work, and steal it for himself at the last minute. We watch as Indy teaches a class, badly, and see his female students swoon over him. It's at this point that his old friend Marcus Brody shows up with the news that Army Intelligence is looking for him. In the next scene, the Army guys ask for help finding something called the headpiece to the staff of Ra, which Indy interprets to mean that the Nazis are on the verge of finding the Ark of the Covenant... Marcus then explains that accortding to legend, the Army which carries the Ark before it is invincible. Shortly thereafter, Indy begins his journey by boarding a plane for Cairo...
Now, observant viewers would have already discerned that this is the end of the First Act... but even if we hadn't done it on our own, Spielberg did us a favor by putting in a musical interlude... A flying plane is super-imposed over a map of the world which shows us Indy's forward progress. Simple, no?
JAWS is much less simple, but still doable. Again, let's start at the beginning. We need a logline... how about, "A former New York City cop has his little slice of paradise shattered when a ravenous Great White Shark begins hunting off the coast of the small island where he has been hired as Chief of Police." Given this one-liner, in the First Act, we would expect the writer to introduce us to Chief Brody, tell us where he's from and why he's in Amity now, introduce us to the danger of the shark, and ultimately, to start Brody on his journey to kill it.
The problem with JAWS is that the end of Act One is much less cut-and-dried than it is in RAIDERS. We could debate where Act One ends for hours and never come to a consensus, and the reality is that we'd all be right. The details of where EXACTLY an act ends aren't so important as long as you quickly and efficiently move through the introduction of your characters and get them started on their journey to solve them... and that you don't spend 65 pages doing it.
However, just for fun, I going to tell you that I think the First Act ends when Quint screeches his fingernails down the chalkboard and offers the citizens of Amity a choice... "ante up, or be on welfare the whole winter." At that point, we've met our hero, we know the problem he faces, and between the Mayor and Quint, he's been presented with two very clear and distinct options for moving forward with a plan to deal with the shark.
That said, I would find it perfectly acceptable if you were to say to me, "no Shears, I think the First Act officially ends when they check the belly of the Tiger Shark, find no boy in it, and Hooper says 'You got a bigger problem than that Martin, you still got a hell of a fish out there, with a mouth about THIS big'."
I would even accept the view that the First Act truly ends when the shark kills the man in the Pond and the Mayor finally writes Quint the ten thousand dollar check that send the three men out on their final shark hunt.
I'd argue like hell that you're wrong, but I'd accept it. I think, by then, you're getting way late in the story for us to still be in Act One. In my opinion, by this point in the story, Marcus has already begun his journey to eliminate the threat posed by the shark. He's put shark watchers on the beach, he has Helicopters in the air, gun boats in the water, and he's forbidden his son from taking his sailboat out on the ocean. Just because his first efforts at neutralizing the shark are unsuccessful, I'd still argue that his jouney has begun.
For more practice, here's a few more movies that I have very definite opinions on as to where the First Act ends. Take a minute and see if you can figure it out for yourself. I'll post my answers at a later date.
STAR TREK 2: THE WRATH OF KAHN
THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN
DIE HARD
In the meantime, happy writing, and I'll see you back here for a discussion of Act 2 in the near future.
Screenplays, ALL screenplays, must be written in three acts. Are there exceptions to this rule? Yes, of course, but they are few and far between and in 99% of cases, if you can't fit your story into a three act screenplay, it's either a bad or fundamentally flawed idea, or the story would work better in some other format.., a novel or short story, for example. Truth is, you give me a movie you think occurs in more or less than three acts, and I'll bet you a can of crisco I can prove you wrong... (now if THAT doesn't generate a flood of e-mails, nothing will! :-)).
So what are these three acts... well before we get into that I'm going to steal an idea from the Libertas guys... before you start writing, you need to be able to encapsulate your idea into one sentence... what we Hollywood eggheads call a "logline." For instance, the logline for RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK might read something like "An adventure-seeking Archaeologist must track down a potentially dangerous Biblical artifact before the Nazis can use it to conquer the world." That one-liner, as the Libertas guys point out, will tell you exactly how your story breaks down into three acts.
Act one is where you'll introduce your characters and let the audience know what problem he (or they) will be forced to solve. In Act Two, your hero will go about the process of actually tring to solve the problem you've presented him with. Act Two typically ends at a low point in the hero's story... a moment where all seems lost. And finally, in Act 3, the hero re-engages the problem, gets his second wind, and ultimately comes out the other side victorious... or at least having come full circle in some way. I say that because it's important to remember that every movie doesn't have to have a happy ending, but if the ending IS a downer, you are still responsible, as a writer, for giving your hero some kind of character arc that justifies the story you've just asked your audience to spend two hours watching. As a quick example, in AMERICAN BEAUTY, Kevin Spacey's character is killed at the end (bummer), but having gone through the experiences provided by that story leaves an indelible impression on the other characters which makes their lives better for having known and interacted with him (whoo-hoo!)... the ending is ultimately uplifting, even though our hero is gunned down in cold blood.
Act One generally runs anywhere from 20-35 pages, where one page equals one minute of screen time, depending on the genre. Action movies tend to be short on character development and usually come with a requirement to get right to the action or risk losing the audience... in other words, action movie audiences require a certain amount of cutting to the chase, and are willing to sacrifice deep character development for it. As a result, you'll generally see the first act of an action movie run on the short side, say 20 pages or so. Dramas like THE GODFATHER, APOCALYPSE NOW or THE KILLING FIELDS may run longer because so much more is required of the screenplay writer in setting up the story and the characters who will go through it, and where so much less of the story will need to be filled up by action sequences.
Let's look at a couple of First Act examples.
RADIERS OF THE LOST ARK - I start with RAIDERS for a couple of reasons... 1) it's flat-out one of the best movies ever made, and a textbook example of the three act structure, and 2) Spielberg and Lucas were trying to make a movie that was an homage to the classic serials they went to see at movie houses when they were kids, and as such, they added interstitial scenes which effectively break up the 3 acts for us. Back in the 40's and 50's, folks would spend all day at the movies, sometimes seeing two or three episodes in long-running serials where stories played out over months rather than hours, and audiences were expected to get up and move around, or go to the snack stand every now-and-then, and thus needed clear act breaks to tell them what was going on from one minute to the next.
Before we start, we must agree on what RAIDERS is about? To do that, let's go back to the logline I wrote earlier... "An adventure-seeking Archaeologist must track down a potentially dangerous Biblical artifact before the Nazis can use it to conquer the world." OK, so if that's our logline, what do we need to do in Act One? We need to introduce our main character Indiana Jones and the world he lives in, we need to tell the audience about this dangerous Biblical artifact, and we need to start Indy off on his journey to find it. That's it. Pretty simple right?
So how did this work out in practice... well, right off the bat they tell us with a graphic that the movie is set in 1938. We watch as a group of men make their way through an impenetrable jungle. We see Indy find a poisoned dart and we learn from his compadres that the bad guys are, at most, 3 days away. We see one of his team attempt a double cross and we watch Indy disarm a gunman with a whip. Later, Indy disarms several deadly and ingenious booby traps using an extensive knowledge of archaeology. We then meet his arch-enemy, Beloq, a proper Frenchman who, rather than getting involved in the wet work himself, prefers to show up in a white suit after Indy has done all the hard work, and steal it for himself at the last minute. We watch as Indy teaches a class, badly, and see his female students swoon over him. It's at this point that his old friend Marcus Brody shows up with the news that Army Intelligence is looking for him. In the next scene, the Army guys ask for help finding something called the headpiece to the staff of Ra, which Indy interprets to mean that the Nazis are on the verge of finding the Ark of the Covenant... Marcus then explains that accortding to legend, the Army which carries the Ark before it is invincible. Shortly thereafter, Indy begins his journey by boarding a plane for Cairo...
Now, observant viewers would have already discerned that this is the end of the First Act... but even if we hadn't done it on our own, Spielberg did us a favor by putting in a musical interlude... A flying plane is super-imposed over a map of the world which shows us Indy's forward progress. Simple, no?
JAWS is much less simple, but still doable. Again, let's start at the beginning. We need a logline... how about, "A former New York City cop has his little slice of paradise shattered when a ravenous Great White Shark begins hunting off the coast of the small island where he has been hired as Chief of Police." Given this one-liner, in the First Act, we would expect the writer to introduce us to Chief Brody, tell us where he's from and why he's in Amity now, introduce us to the danger of the shark, and ultimately, to start Brody on his journey to kill it.
The problem with JAWS is that the end of Act One is much less cut-and-dried than it is in RAIDERS. We could debate where Act One ends for hours and never come to a consensus, and the reality is that we'd all be right. The details of where EXACTLY an act ends aren't so important as long as you quickly and efficiently move through the introduction of your characters and get them started on their journey to solve them... and that you don't spend 65 pages doing it.
However, just for fun, I going to tell you that I think the First Act ends when Quint screeches his fingernails down the chalkboard and offers the citizens of Amity a choice... "ante up, or be on welfare the whole winter." At that point, we've met our hero, we know the problem he faces, and between the Mayor and Quint, he's been presented with two very clear and distinct options for moving forward with a plan to deal with the shark.
That said, I would find it perfectly acceptable if you were to say to me, "no Shears, I think the First Act officially ends when they check the belly of the Tiger Shark, find no boy in it, and Hooper says 'You got a bigger problem than that Martin, you still got a hell of a fish out there, with a mouth about THIS big'."
I would even accept the view that the First Act truly ends when the shark kills the man in the Pond and the Mayor finally writes Quint the ten thousand dollar check that send the three men out on their final shark hunt.
I'd argue like hell that you're wrong, but I'd accept it. I think, by then, you're getting way late in the story for us to still be in Act One. In my opinion, by this point in the story, Marcus has already begun his journey to eliminate the threat posed by the shark. He's put shark watchers on the beach, he has Helicopters in the air, gun boats in the water, and he's forbidden his son from taking his sailboat out on the ocean. Just because his first efforts at neutralizing the shark are unsuccessful, I'd still argue that his jouney has begun.
For more practice, here's a few more movies that I have very definite opinions on as to where the First Act ends. Take a minute and see if you can figure it out for yourself. I'll post my answers at a later date.
STAR TREK 2: THE WRATH OF KAHN
THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN
DIE HARD
In the meantime, happy writing, and I'll see you back here for a discussion of Act 2 in the near future.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Shears review: THE TRAIN
This was recommended by those clever bastards over at Libertas (yes, them again) probably 8 months ago. I kept pushing it down my Netflix list but then last week, in a weak moment, I lost control of the list and THE TRAIN found its way to the top.
Definitely not what I was expecting because I had long since forgotten what Libertas said about it. I thought it was a standard WW2 mission movie, but it's not that at all. I'd say it actually has more in common with OCEAN'S 11 than with THE DIRTY DOZEN.
Really cool story, apparently based in truth, about French railway workers who cleverly sabotaged Nazi trains as they tried to smuggle French art out of Paris in the last days before the liberation.
Burt Lancaster plays the ringleader of a group of railwaymen who have to come up with increasingly elaborate schemes to sabotage the Nazis, all without arousing suspicion, getting caught and executed on the spot. That's what's so great about it, they have to shut the trains down and in every case, it HAS look like an accident. Incredible tension, clever schemes, and some great revolutionary directing genius from one of the greats, John Frankenheimer... with whom Shears has an interesting history... one I might eventually let you in on if I ever stop guarding my anonymity so jealously.
Anyhoo... THE TRAIN... set your Netflix to stun!
Definitely not what I was expecting because I had long since forgotten what Libertas said about it. I thought it was a standard WW2 mission movie, but it's not that at all. I'd say it actually has more in common with OCEAN'S 11 than with THE DIRTY DOZEN.
Really cool story, apparently based in truth, about French railway workers who cleverly sabotaged Nazi trains as they tried to smuggle French art out of Paris in the last days before the liberation.
Burt Lancaster plays the ringleader of a group of railwaymen who have to come up with increasingly elaborate schemes to sabotage the Nazis, all without arousing suspicion, getting caught and executed on the spot. That's what's so great about it, they have to shut the trains down and in every case, it HAS look like an accident. Incredible tension, clever schemes, and some great revolutionary directing genius from one of the greats, John Frankenheimer... with whom Shears has an interesting history... one I might eventually let you in on if I ever stop guarding my anonymity so jealously.
Anyhoo... THE TRAIN... set your Netflix to stun!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
A great post on structure...
The gang over at Libertas got a question about structure that I think reinforces the point I made in a previous post that those of us who work in the business and also try to offer advice to those who don't, often don't know what our readers don't know.
A Libertas reader e-mailed the site to ask why A CHRISTMAS CAROL is such a popular feature film story? The story, he argued, does not seem to lend itself well to the three-act structure, since there are four ghosts, plus the finale. This being the case, doesn't that make A CHRISTMAS CAROL a five act movie?
The short answer is no. The mistake the reader made was thinking that an ACT in a movie occurs everytime a new major event takes place in your film, while the truth is a little more complicated than that. Read the Libertas post for a full explanation.
A Libertas reader e-mailed the site to ask why A CHRISTMAS CAROL is such a popular feature film story? The story, he argued, does not seem to lend itself well to the three-act structure, since there are four ghosts, plus the finale. This being the case, doesn't that make A CHRISTMAS CAROL a five act movie?
The short answer is no. The mistake the reader made was thinking that an ACT in a movie occurs everytime a new major event takes place in your film, while the truth is a little more complicated than that. Read the Libertas post for a full explanation.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
To novelize or not to novelize... that is A question
Roland from the UK had a follow-up question to the issue I addressed here, that I've been struggling with...
He asks: "Many of the movie ideas I have first come to me as longer stories more apt for the written page. Due to the time-intensive nature of writing long fiction, do you think it would be better to just write a long treatment and try to flog it for both screen and print at the same time, hope I get lucky with one aspect, and then make sure I get the rights for both? Or do you think it would be more ideal to focus my efforts on developing an idea through to the final product in one format, and worry about the other format later?"
I keep wrestling with this and coming back to the reality that it's hard to know what to tell you without knowing the idea or more about your process. Certain ideas lend themselves better to one medium than the other, and still others can be developed either way. As a wacky example of how this can play out in real-world Hollywood, the movie biz urban legend is that David Benioff first conceived of 25TH HOUR as a movie, then expanded it to a novel when he couldn't get it sold as a screenplay, and then later sold the book and got himself attached to develop it as a screenplay... which is what he'd wanted to do with it in the first place. Whether that story is true or not, it illustrates that even though the two mediums are so vastly different, writers have been moving back and forth between them succesfully for a long time. But since many of the best movies ever made were based on books, you didn't really need me to tell you that.
As far as securing the rights goes, it's fairly standard for novelists to get the first crack at adapting their book for the screen if they want to, so you don't have to worry about selling the book and then getting cut out of the process. If they want the book badly enough, they'll give you a shot at it first, knowing they can always hire a seasoned pro if you crap out on the first draft.
The two mediums are so different in terms of what you can do in them. Screenplay writing is SO much more constricting than novel writing... many times you can do things in books you could never do in a screenplay... like get inside a character's head, for instance. I've long suspected that this is why most Stephen King books result in terrible movies because so much of his stories are internal rather than external.
I guess what this is making me think about most of all is that we may need to do a general discussion of the screenplay format. Does everyone fully understand the three act structure, the hero's journey and all the basic academics of screenplay writing? Would anyone like a full-on lesson of those elements, or a refresher course?
If so, post in the comments and I'll give it a shot. It's possible that really getting into the nuts and bolts of what is required of you as a screenplay writer might make it more clear as to which format your idea would be most comfortable in.
UPDATE: One thing that occurs to me is that I haven't answered the question of whether or not a treatment is important. I do encourage you to write a treatment before typing the words "FADE IN." Often a treatment will reveal the landmines inherent in your story before you write yourself into a place where you can't help but step on one. I think of writing a screenplay like walking through a series of hallways filled with an infinite number of doors. As you open doors and move through them (i.e. make choices about directions your story and characters will go), certain other doors, or character and story options, become unavailable to you, and as you reach the end of your script you may find yourself in one final hallway with one single locked door that doesn't take you where you'd hoped to go. That's called writing yourself into a corner. There's a great script that's been kicking around Hollywood for a while now about a small-town man who has spent years performing an incredible task in hope of attracting the attention of the woman he loves. The story is told from the perspective of another character who has come to town to witness this amazing task. The story unfolds brilliantly, but as it reaches its climax, you find you have been boxed into a corner. For the movie to work, the woman must fall for the newcomer, and yet the audience would likely revolt if the young woman turns her back on the poor guy who has been, essentially, torturing himself for her love. It's a significant roadblock that I think has kept the movie from getting made. Great script, but just so damned hard to resolve that final landmine. I think treatments are a great way to minimize the chances of that happening and to give you a road map for your script that will be helpful when you're deep in the second act and have lost perspective as to where you are in the story and what needs to happen next.
He asks: "Many of the movie ideas I have first come to me as longer stories more apt for the written page. Due to the time-intensive nature of writing long fiction, do you think it would be better to just write a long treatment and try to flog it for both screen and print at the same time, hope I get lucky with one aspect, and then make sure I get the rights for both? Or do you think it would be more ideal to focus my efforts on developing an idea through to the final product in one format, and worry about the other format later?"
I keep wrestling with this and coming back to the reality that it's hard to know what to tell you without knowing the idea or more about your process. Certain ideas lend themselves better to one medium than the other, and still others can be developed either way. As a wacky example of how this can play out in real-world Hollywood, the movie biz urban legend is that David Benioff first conceived of 25TH HOUR as a movie, then expanded it to a novel when he couldn't get it sold as a screenplay, and then later sold the book and got himself attached to develop it as a screenplay... which is what he'd wanted to do with it in the first place. Whether that story is true or not, it illustrates that even though the two mediums are so vastly different, writers have been moving back and forth between them succesfully for a long time. But since many of the best movies ever made were based on books, you didn't really need me to tell you that.
As far as securing the rights goes, it's fairly standard for novelists to get the first crack at adapting their book for the screen if they want to, so you don't have to worry about selling the book and then getting cut out of the process. If they want the book badly enough, they'll give you a shot at it first, knowing they can always hire a seasoned pro if you crap out on the first draft.
The two mediums are so different in terms of what you can do in them. Screenplay writing is SO much more constricting than novel writing... many times you can do things in books you could never do in a screenplay... like get inside a character's head, for instance. I've long suspected that this is why most Stephen King books result in terrible movies because so much of his stories are internal rather than external.
I guess what this is making me think about most of all is that we may need to do a general discussion of the screenplay format. Does everyone fully understand the three act structure, the hero's journey and all the basic academics of screenplay writing? Would anyone like a full-on lesson of those elements, or a refresher course?
If so, post in the comments and I'll give it a shot. It's possible that really getting into the nuts and bolts of what is required of you as a screenplay writer might make it more clear as to which format your idea would be most comfortable in.
UPDATE: One thing that occurs to me is that I haven't answered the question of whether or not a treatment is important. I do encourage you to write a treatment before typing the words "FADE IN." Often a treatment will reveal the landmines inherent in your story before you write yourself into a place where you can't help but step on one. I think of writing a screenplay like walking through a series of hallways filled with an infinite number of doors. As you open doors and move through them (i.e. make choices about directions your story and characters will go), certain other doors, or character and story options, become unavailable to you, and as you reach the end of your script you may find yourself in one final hallway with one single locked door that doesn't take you where you'd hoped to go. That's called writing yourself into a corner. There's a great script that's been kicking around Hollywood for a while now about a small-town man who has spent years performing an incredible task in hope of attracting the attention of the woman he loves. The story is told from the perspective of another character who has come to town to witness this amazing task. The story unfolds brilliantly, but as it reaches its climax, you find you have been boxed into a corner. For the movie to work, the woman must fall for the newcomer, and yet the audience would likely revolt if the young woman turns her back on the poor guy who has been, essentially, torturing himself for her love. It's a significant roadblock that I think has kept the movie from getting made. Great script, but just so damned hard to resolve that final landmine. I think treatments are a great way to minimize the chances of that happening and to give you a road map for your script that will be helpful when you're deep in the second act and have lost perspective as to where you are in the story and what needs to happen next.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
More potential bad news for New Orleans
I don't like the sound of this. My concern is that this will have a disastrous affect on the surging Louisiana film buiness, which has been one of the bright spots in the post-Katrina economy.
New Orleans, and the state in general, need these kinds of companies to survive and flourish... but I guess at this point there's nothing to do but cross our fingers and hope for the best.
New Orleans, and the state in general, need these kinds of companies to survive and flourish... but I guess at this point there's nothing to do but cross our fingers and hope for the best.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Coming up with a great screenplay title... or...My Cat's Hairballs
Roland from London asks: How important is a title? I know that many projects go through several names before the final cut is made, but is a catchy, dynamic title something that can elevate a script even if it's not that great, merely because it has a cool name? How many great scripts do you think get tossed on the mountain of garbage merely because they choose a title that resembles your cat's hairballs?
There are lots of different schools of thought on this issue... mine can best be summed up as "if someone calls you to pass on your script and says 'I just didn't like the title', it means they hated the script and are looking for an easy way out."
I think a great title can only help boost the general wave of good feelings that people in this town get when they read a great script... it adds to the overall package. I've never personally heard of a good script not getting read (much less made) because of a title. Titles are totally fungible. You can change them every ten minutes if you want. It's the writing that matters. So if someone refuses to read a script because they don't like the title, then quite simply, that person is a moron.
Likewise, I think most people in Hollywood are smart enough to recognize a bad script when they read one, even if they think the title is kickass.
On the other hand I know a few people who are known around town for their ability to come up with great titles for screenplays and they swear it makes a difference, but I maintain it will never be the difference between selling or not selling a script.
There's a project kicking around one of the studios that's been UNTITLED (it's literally referred to by the studio as "our untitled action movie") for a long time... it's an exciting project and everyone around town likes it. But recently, they decided to change the title to the name of a snappy well-known classic rock tune, and, well goddammit I know it shouldn't, but it made me just a little more excited about the project because the new title made me smile and say "cool!"
One person I know heard the new title and said "that's hot"... but I'm pretty sure they were being ironic.
But I think that's the most action you'll get out of a title one way or the other. For every title I've heard people call great, I heard just as many people say "It's a great script but the title is awful, so we're gonna have to come up with a new one."
And fortunately that's as easy to do as anything in the movie business besides divorce.
There are lots of different schools of thought on this issue... mine can best be summed up as "if someone calls you to pass on your script and says 'I just didn't like the title', it means they hated the script and are looking for an easy way out."
I think a great title can only help boost the general wave of good feelings that people in this town get when they read a great script... it adds to the overall package. I've never personally heard of a good script not getting read (much less made) because of a title. Titles are totally fungible. You can change them every ten minutes if you want. It's the writing that matters. So if someone refuses to read a script because they don't like the title, then quite simply, that person is a moron.
Likewise, I think most people in Hollywood are smart enough to recognize a bad script when they read one, even if they think the title is kickass.
On the other hand I know a few people who are known around town for their ability to come up with great titles for screenplays and they swear it makes a difference, but I maintain it will never be the difference between selling or not selling a script.
There's a project kicking around one of the studios that's been UNTITLED (it's literally referred to by the studio as "our untitled action movie") for a long time... it's an exciting project and everyone around town likes it. But recently, they decided to change the title to the name of a snappy well-known classic rock tune, and, well goddammit I know it shouldn't, but it made me just a little more excited about the project because the new title made me smile and say "cool!"
One person I know heard the new title and said "that's hot"... but I'm pretty sure they were being ironic.
But I think that's the most action you'll get out of a title one way or the other. For every title I've heard people call great, I heard just as many people say "It's a great script but the title is awful, so we're gonna have to come up with a new one."
And fortunately that's as easy to do as anything in the movie business besides divorce.
Monday, June 4, 2007
How to get noticed, if you're from outta town!
James Whyle from Johannesburg, RSA (Officially the longest distance question yet received in the Commander's short blogging history... so congrats James!), writes: I'm based in Johannesburg, RSA, and would value any advice on how to get noticed as a "great writer" if one is not based in LA.
First, the good news... assuming you've written a great screenplay, getting noticed is the easiest part of becoming a successful screenwriter.
Now the bad news... the scale I'm working off of here (easiest to hardest) exists in a very rarefied world... that is to say that there is literally nothing easy about becoming a successful screenwriter. I once read an article in the Washington Post which suggested that more people have been made millionaires by the California Lottery than by screenwriting. I have no way of verifying that statistic, but having worked in Hollywood for as long as I have, I'm telling you that I believe it.
OK, so with THAT depressing reality out of the way, let's talk about how you, as a writer with a fantastic screenplay on your hands, get noticed in Hollywood... for the time being I'm going to focus on ACTUAL Hollywood, California... I know there are plenty of vibrant film communities around the world, but I'm not the guy to tell you how to break into the film business in Australia, Zimbabwe, or Prague, I'm sorry to say. I'm gonna stick to what I know.
So... as far as Hollywood goes, let's start with the Internet. The web is a tremendous resource for the budding writer. It's given millions of would-be writers access to affordable screenwriting software and great advice sites (like this one) where information that used to only be accessible by getting into one of the top two or three film schools, is now available to anyone with an Internet connection.
Of course the downside is that an awful lot of people are taking advantage of that fact and most of them are not visibly talented. As a result, the glut of mediocre and just flat-out bad scripts out there is clogging the system to a degree I've never seen before. This is going to severely impact your ability to get read. One agent confided in me recently that he gets up to ten unsolicited e-mail requests asking him to read a script every single day! Think about the logistics of that. A fast reader can finish a screenplay in about 45 minutes. But at ten submissions a day, no one could possibly keep up with all that reading and still be able to do their job. The consequence is that most agents just delete e-mail queries without reading them.
Managers are a different story, however. Most writers find managers to be much more receptive to the idea of reading an unsolicited screenplay. Part of that stems from the fact that managers are not supposed to engage in the process of soliciting jobs for writers and directors (which is what agents spend most of their workday doing). Many managers do it anyway, even though they aren't supposed to, but the majority will wisely leave that part of the job to the agents they work with.... which frees them up to read more scripts. Most of the managers I know made their bones and built their client lists by wading through piles of screenplays nobody else wanted to read, and picking out the diamonds in the rough. In fact, most good managers think of the business of weeding out the crap and finding the gems part of the service they provide to the industry, and often look at it as the very thing that sets them apart from agents.
The Internet also gives you unprecedented access to Hollywood's players and gives you the platform from which to "get noticed." The web is filled with resources designed to help you figure out who those management companies are as well as information on the best way to get in touch with them. Everything you need to know, along with insight from those who have tried and failed before you, is yours for the taking on the WWW.
When it comes to looking for the right manager to approach with your script, look for newer, smaller companies who represent writers you admire or whose work you think yours resembles (this point could spawn an entire blogpost on its own about researching the people you're asking to read your scripts... example: if you think your work most resembles Robert Rodat's, then for crissakes don't send your script to Judd Apatow's agent!). A lot of the well-established management companies may be too big to read truly unknown writers at this point (although you never really know) but there are plenty of younger/newer companies that specifically cater to that emerging market. The web will tell you who they are.
Another often overlooked path to getting noticed is the screenplay competition. Everyone in Hollywood, be they producers, agents, or managers, up to and including your humble host, reads the ten Nicholl Fellowship Award finalists every year... which means you don't even have to win to get read! And every year new competitions come and go. Again, go online... figure out what those competitions are, and enter every goddamned one of them. I guarantee that even if you win a screenwriting contest called "the contest whose winners never, EVER, get read"... your script will get read by somebody.
Relatedly, I'm a fan of blogging to get noticed. I know more than a few writers who have been discovered through blogging. It's a long-shot, granted, but this whole damned business is basically a crap shoot, and every now and then it does happen, so why not give yourself every opportunity to get read. Start a blog, update it regularly, and try to write about something interesting... no one wants to read endless posts about how great your script is, and oh woe-is-me why won't somebody READ IT!?!?
One final note on the business of writing. If you want to make it in Hollywood as a successful screenwriter, sooner or later you're going to have to move here. Best to wrap your head around that fact right now. Some hugely successful writers are able to maintain careers from New York or Boston, but the reality is, if you want to work in Hollywood, you have to BE in Hollywood. There are lots of reasons why, but the most important one is that this business is based on relationships, and you simply cannot maintain a relationship with Hollywood from 12,000 miles away. (for more on this issue, see Shears' related comments in this post.)
Quick story: good friend of mine has been kicking around town for ten years... working temp jobs, writing specs, and meeting with anyone who will take a meeting. It's been a long hard road, and he's really talented, but he's only now starting to see some results, a decade later! And it's not because he sold a spec, which most wannabe writers assume is the end-all be-all of a career-starter... no, instead, he worked a relationship he developed with an up-and-coming associate TV producer, and worked it hard. Eventually he was able to convince that producer to hire him to write a freelance episode for a TV show on the air, just to see what he could do... and the producer became so impressed with his work-ethic and his skill level, that when this producer created a new show and sold it to the networks, he brought my friend on as a staff writer.
Now THAT'S what I call getting noticed...
...and unfortunately, it's very hard to do that kind of thing from Johannesburg...
First, the good news... assuming you've written a great screenplay, getting noticed is the easiest part of becoming a successful screenwriter.
Now the bad news... the scale I'm working off of here (easiest to hardest) exists in a very rarefied world... that is to say that there is literally nothing easy about becoming a successful screenwriter. I once read an article in the Washington Post which suggested that more people have been made millionaires by the California Lottery than by screenwriting. I have no way of verifying that statistic, but having worked in Hollywood for as long as I have, I'm telling you that I believe it.
OK, so with THAT depressing reality out of the way, let's talk about how you, as a writer with a fantastic screenplay on your hands, get noticed in Hollywood... for the time being I'm going to focus on ACTUAL Hollywood, California... I know there are plenty of vibrant film communities around the world, but I'm not the guy to tell you how to break into the film business in Australia, Zimbabwe, or Prague, I'm sorry to say. I'm gonna stick to what I know.
So... as far as Hollywood goes, let's start with the Internet. The web is a tremendous resource for the budding writer. It's given millions of would-be writers access to affordable screenwriting software and great advice sites (like this one) where information that used to only be accessible by getting into one of the top two or three film schools, is now available to anyone with an Internet connection.
Of course the downside is that an awful lot of people are taking advantage of that fact and most of them are not visibly talented. As a result, the glut of mediocre and just flat-out bad scripts out there is clogging the system to a degree I've never seen before. This is going to severely impact your ability to get read. One agent confided in me recently that he gets up to ten unsolicited e-mail requests asking him to read a script every single day! Think about the logistics of that. A fast reader can finish a screenplay in about 45 minutes. But at ten submissions a day, no one could possibly keep up with all that reading and still be able to do their job. The consequence is that most agents just delete e-mail queries without reading them.
Managers are a different story, however. Most writers find managers to be much more receptive to the idea of reading an unsolicited screenplay. Part of that stems from the fact that managers are not supposed to engage in the process of soliciting jobs for writers and directors (which is what agents spend most of their workday doing). Many managers do it anyway, even though they aren't supposed to, but the majority will wisely leave that part of the job to the agents they work with.... which frees them up to read more scripts. Most of the managers I know made their bones and built their client lists by wading through piles of screenplays nobody else wanted to read, and picking out the diamonds in the rough. In fact, most good managers think of the business of weeding out the crap and finding the gems part of the service they provide to the industry, and often look at it as the very thing that sets them apart from agents.
The Internet also gives you unprecedented access to Hollywood's players and gives you the platform from which to "get noticed." The web is filled with resources designed to help you figure out who those management companies are as well as information on the best way to get in touch with them. Everything you need to know, along with insight from those who have tried and failed before you, is yours for the taking on the WWW.
When it comes to looking for the right manager to approach with your script, look for newer, smaller companies who represent writers you admire or whose work you think yours resembles (this point could spawn an entire blogpost on its own about researching the people you're asking to read your scripts... example: if you think your work most resembles Robert Rodat's, then for crissakes don't send your script to Judd Apatow's agent!). A lot of the well-established management companies may be too big to read truly unknown writers at this point (although you never really know) but there are plenty of younger/newer companies that specifically cater to that emerging market. The web will tell you who they are.
Another often overlooked path to getting noticed is the screenplay competition. Everyone in Hollywood, be they producers, agents, or managers, up to and including your humble host, reads the ten Nicholl Fellowship Award finalists every year... which means you don't even have to win to get read! And every year new competitions come and go. Again, go online... figure out what those competitions are, and enter every goddamned one of them. I guarantee that even if you win a screenwriting contest called "the contest whose winners never, EVER, get read"... your script will get read by somebody.
Relatedly, I'm a fan of blogging to get noticed. I know more than a few writers who have been discovered through blogging. It's a long-shot, granted, but this whole damned business is basically a crap shoot, and every now and then it does happen, so why not give yourself every opportunity to get read. Start a blog, update it regularly, and try to write about something interesting... no one wants to read endless posts about how great your script is, and oh woe-is-me why won't somebody READ IT!?!?
One final note on the business of writing. If you want to make it in Hollywood as a successful screenwriter, sooner or later you're going to have to move here. Best to wrap your head around that fact right now. Some hugely successful writers are able to maintain careers from New York or Boston, but the reality is, if you want to work in Hollywood, you have to BE in Hollywood. There are lots of reasons why, but the most important one is that this business is based on relationships, and you simply cannot maintain a relationship with Hollywood from 12,000 miles away. (for more on this issue, see Shears' related comments in this post.)
Quick story: good friend of mine has been kicking around town for ten years... working temp jobs, writing specs, and meeting with anyone who will take a meeting. It's been a long hard road, and he's really talented, but he's only now starting to see some results, a decade later! And it's not because he sold a spec, which most wannabe writers assume is the end-all be-all of a career-starter... no, instead, he worked a relationship he developed with an up-and-coming associate TV producer, and worked it hard. Eventually he was able to convince that producer to hire him to write a freelance episode for a TV show on the air, just to see what he could do... and the producer became so impressed with his work-ethic and his skill level, that when this producer created a new show and sold it to the networks, he brought my friend on as a staff writer.
Now THAT'S what I call getting noticed...
...and unfortunately, it's very hard to do that kind of thing from Johannesburg...
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