ScriptFaze

Something I Wish I'd Known As A New Writer: Independent Filmmaking is NOT the Straightest Path

 

I remember when I was new to screenwriting: My role models were the stars of the independent film scene, those brash outsiders who seemed to rise from obscurity to displace the Hollywood elite. Independent FilmMaker Magazine was founded in 1992, and immediately gave voice—and a narrative—to the ascension of this ‘new’ breed of filmmaker. Hell, I loved these guys. Every article I read reaffirmed their storyline: They were the outsiders, the kids working the mailrooms or the video-store counters who had decided to make their own damn movie—and had WON. Tarantino, the Cohen brothers, Todd Solondz, Edward Burns, Kevin Smith, Darren Aronofsky—everyone fit the script as a struggling-outsider who’d bet it all and now found themselves on top of the pile—and it was just the kind of script I wanted to believe. Because I had nothing. Because I was an outsider. Because I had no money, no contacts and no reason to believe that I would ever succeed at the OLD Hollywood game. But this new game I was reading about? Yes—that sounded right up my alley.

So I took a page from the playbook of these trailblazers, and started writing ‘independent movies’. Small films with kooky, off-beat characters and kooky, off-beat problems. My scripts were good—they got into film festivals and won awards. I was accepted to the UCLA graduate directing program, and spent several years there having my paradigm reaffirmed: ‘Indy’ films were the films that mattered—the uncommon, out-of-the-mainstream ‘auteur’ voices that would separate a filmmaker from all the ‘elite’ folk working on the Hollywood-inside. Again—I loved this narrative. It positioned talent over social-networks, and hard-work over a birthright-ascension to the best jobs in the industry.

The only problem was—the narrative was totally false.

Here, I’ll skip past the many ‘oh-wow’ moments that finally broke through my fantastical perception, and focus instead on what you need to know as a new, or new-ish writer. At some point I plan to write a book, and in it I’m sure a chapter will be devoted to the many chinks that finally brought down my armor—my deeply held faith (read: HOPE) that the indy-filmmaking game was the best game in town for industry outsiders. For the sake of this blog, though—I’ll just skip ahead to the meat and potatoes. Here is the REAL TRUTH, as I have come to realize it:

Independent filmmaking is for rich people, or people who know rich people.

Period.

Now—I’m not knocking rich people. Hell, nearly everyone in Hollywood—and everyone trying to break into Hollywood—is rich, nearly-rich, upper-middle-class or well-tucked into this community. And many of them are extremely talented. In fact, to be intelligent enough, comfortable enough around people, comfortable enough around money, and to have the time and drive necessary to succeed in this industry, you almost NEED to come from an elite background. It’s a rare cocktail of skills that people with moneyed lives are simply better setup to command. But let’s call a spade a spade. With very rare exceptions, the people who’ve achieved runaway success in the world of independent filmmaking have certainly had talent, drive, originality, chutzpah, luck—but guess what? They’ve also had money. A LOT of money. And if it wasn’t their own, it was a rich uncle’s, a business-associate of their fathers, culled from a prestigious circle of alumni, or somehow otherwise ‘rounded up’ from the types of friends and contacts that one accumulates in an upper-middle-class or upper-class childhood. Simply put—the indy-stars I had modeled my early career on may have been Hollywood-outsiders, but all had the silent purse-strings necessary to fund their rebellion. ‘Independent’ equals ‘independently financed,’ and one does not exist without the other. This, more than any lesson of my young career, is one I wish I’d realized and internalized a whole lot sooner.

So what am I saying? That people with no money and no way of raising money have no hope of breaking into filmmaking? That it’s all a wash, and the non-elite need not apply?

No, not at all.

But the path is through the front-door—not the back.

Turns out, after years of honing my ‘independent voice’ and planning a never-realized poor-guy-proves-himself ascension through the indy-film circuit, the REAL path to success was the one I’d exed-out long ago. Turns out, for people who truly have no money, and no way of raising the requisite tens-of-thousands-of-dollars necessary to jump-start an indy production—the way into Hollywood is the same way writers and directors have been breaking in for the last ninety years: COMMERCIAL FILM.

Yup, that’s right. Turns out, if you write movies that are marketable and attract wide audiences, producers will want to make them irregardless of your personal finances, and you, my friend, will have a career. Counter to all the hype, story-weaving, little-guy-takes-on-the world, David-and-Goliath-type reporting of the 1990s and early 2000s—independent filmmakers are NOT the underdogs. In fact, they are the opposite—they're the alphas. Independent filmmakers are the folks who don’t play by the rules because they don’t have to—they have the money to do things their own way.

So what’s the take-away on all of this? Well—here’s what I’d say: If you’re new to filmmaking and trying to figure out the best way forward, do some honest assessment. If you really, truly, deep-down-in-your-soul know that you will NEVER be able to raise a large amount of money from friends and relatives, then forget about feature independent filmmaking right now. Sure, there are exceptions—Tarantino and the creators of The Blair Witch Project probably fall into this category. But 99.8% of the time, those without genuine money-raising ability need not apply. If you really, truly, deep-down KNOW that your friends, relatives and personal contacts haven’t a dime to spare—then embrace your situation, and focus your efforts instead on writing the types of movies and TV shows that studios and establishment ‘indy’ production companies know will earn them money.

Go commercial now, and save that kooky mumblecore script, or offbeat sexual-awakening screenplay for a time later in life when you have more control, and ultimately—more dough.

NICHOLAS PALLOS: Two Tricks For Becoming A Produced Screenwriter

SO YOU'VE FINALLY FINISHED that coveted feature spec you’ve been slaving over for months (if not years), and are ready to watch it come to life on the big screen.  Why not?  That’s why you write screenplays, isn’t it?  To see Sean Penn inserted as your male lead and to get the chance to goggle as he deftly delivers your clever dialogue. To watch the credits roll by after a successful Hollywood premier and see those lovely words – WRITTEN BY – followed by your name.  To be able to log onto IMDB and marvel at each writing credit you’ve managed to manifest.  Yes, these are the things a screenwriter lives for.  So what’s standing in your way?  

Clearly, it’s no cakewalk trying to convince a studio exec to green light your masterpiece, or even get a meeting with said exec in the first place.  And unless Harvey Weinstein is on your speed dial, you most likely also have the usual culprits to contend with – finding an agent, motivation, discipline, support. But aside from those common speed bumps, what excuses do you have?

Now, understand, there’s nothing wrong with writing a screenplay that doesn’t ever reach the promised land of “being produced.”  There are those writers who make a very good living while never seeing their work grace the silver screen (or the boob tube).  There are even a handful of writers who’ve sold their scripts to studios for hundreds-of-thousands of dollars, have great agents, contacts, and resumes, but still have yet to see their work ultimately realized as a finished product.  Should it matter?   Is getting produced that big of a deal? 

I don’t know about you, but if someone offered me half a million dollars for my spec, and told me it would probably never be made, I’d take it in a heartbeat. You may say that you write screenplays for fun – which is fantastic!  But don’t tell me you haven’t, at some point while plugging away on your laptop, visualized that magic moment of walking into a cineplex and experiencing your baby on display in front of a packed audience.  We all do it. And if you’re a TV writer, you’ve surely imagined that prime-time moment where your show flashes onto HD plasma screens everywhere.  It’s only natural.  Getting produced is important.  Not only for your resume, but for your screenwriter’s soul.  It is the most fitting end to a journey that begins with “FADE IN."

Assuming you don’t have the top literary agent at CAA in your corner, and you’re not the offspring of some famous Hollywood mogul, there are two solid ways I know of to get produced.  The first is simple, and fairly straightforward: Network. 

My first produced script occurred because I met someone who got me a job where I met another person, who introduced me to two other people, who eventually bought my script and turned it into a finished film.  Bottom line – you can never know enough people!  What would have happened if I hadn’t reached out to that initial contact?  Well, someone else would probably be writing this article.  I can’t tell you how valuable networking has been for me – and in this strange world of entertainment, one of the tricks to turning your contacts into future gold mines is learning to give before you receive.  If someone asks you to take a look at their script and provide feedback, or help them prepare for an audition or an interview, or even hold a boom mic on the set of their short film – do it!  People remember these things, and the favor will be returned.  I can’t tell you how many people I’ve met on their way up the entertainment power-ladder.  Do something nice for them, and when they graduate to a mighty position in the industry, their return favor may just get you produced.  

The second way to turn your script into a movie or TV show is to take matters into your own hands – literally!  Write that script.  Rewrite it until it’s ready to be made.  Have as many people read it as possible to get a broad spectrum of feedback – and when you think it’s golden, grab a camera and SHOOT IT.  Don’t wait around for Steven Spielberg to invite you into his office and offer you a six-figure deal plus back-end.  Just make your movie, regardless of whether it’s a pilot, short, or feature.  Introduce yourself to a DP, a producer, an editor.  Direct it yourself, or find someone who shares your vision to help guide the process. 

I made the decision to do just that in 2007, and now I have an award-winning film entering its fourth film festival.  If I’d waited around for something to happen, I’d probably still be waiting.  Sometimes you simply have to be pro-active and confident, and do it yourself.  Is it easy to make a movie?  No.  But if you’re passionate enough about your story, and want more than anything for it to be viewed on the big screen, you’ll find a way to get it done.  Mr. Weinstein may not be in your rolodex, but there are many other creative ways to find funding, including grants and contests.  One thing I always try to remember if all else fails:  Family members with a couple extra dollars laying around are out there, somewhere.  Hopefully you’ve done them a favor!      

Nicholas Pallos is a produced screenwriter living in Los Angeles.  Visit his website at:  www.nicholaspallos.com

Agents Don’t Read Craigslist

I’m always amazed those times I’ve looked in the Craigslist writing/editing section, or the tv/film/video section (yes, I’m guilty) and found subject heads that read like this:

 

AGENT NEEDED FOR UP AND COMING SCREENWRITER

Or:

WRITERS AGENT/MANAGER WANTED FOR TALENTED FILMMAKER

 

Okay, people. NO. It’s never gonna happen. Not like that. Trust me—agents don’t go trolling through Craigslist looking for their next batch of Coppolas and Spielbergs. Not even the crappy ones. Not even the guy who was bagging your groceries last week, then went and hung a shingle over his garage reading AGENT this week… If anything, be hopeful there aren’t any agents on Craigslist trying to sell a couch who accidentally click on your post, and god-forbid, remember your name… It will HURT you.

But I understand the frustration. I toiled for years without representation, and there comes a time when you’ve just finished a script and are reading back over your own work when it hits you like a brick: “Wait a minute. I’m friggin’ GOOD at this. It’s about time I got myself an agent, and started getting PAID for this!”

And that’s the catch. Agents and managers are not interested in writers who have not ALREADY been paid, or are DAYS away from their first serious payday. The current climate in Hollywood is so difficult, that I know writers with produced films and several paydays under their belt who STILL don’t have an agent. It ain’t pretty.

So what do you do? Well, the first thing newbie writers need to understand is that the only path towards legit representation is through a bonified REFERRAL by a client or producer that already works with that agent or manager. And even with a referral, many reps are turning down new clients these days simply because the clients they already HAVE are not working like they used to.

But that doesn’t mean all hope is lost. Fortunately, with the advent of the world-wide-internet there are now COUNTLESS screenplay contests and festivals online, most of whom assure their winners and runners up quality read-time by Hollywood agents and/or production companies. And while the contests may be daunting, there are so many now, that if you write a good script, it really does have a solid chance of rising to the top and standing out from it’s competition.

What’s more, there are so many PRODUCTION COMPANIES now, that many are willing to accept unsolicited screenplays—which is unheard of in ol’ Los Angeles. These tend to be low-budget horror or soft-core film production companies, but if that’s your genre, there is serious opportunity, here.

And finally—time is on your side. The very best way to get a top talent rep is to STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. Write good scripts, and write a lot of them. Over time, you’ll meet more and more producers, either in person if you live in a big city like LA, or through  contacts you will make online or simply through dumb luck. Trust me—luck happens. The first lit manager I ever met sat down next to me on an United Airlines flight to New York—and while he didn’t end up signing me, we are still in touch, and connections such as this one have opened serious doors for me.

Personally, freelance producers and upstart film and television companies have most helped my transition from amateur writer to semi-professional (see the post: What the hell is a Semi-Professional?). These people tend to be closer to my age (30) and are at a similar place in their careers. I’ve met them through large, open-door pitch sessions, at film festivals, or through sheer luck. Smaller companies and hungry new producers are more willing to read unsolicited material, and to take a new writer more seriously. They also know they won’t need to pay you as much (or at all), and this fits nicely into their business-model. But that doesn’t make them illegitimate—all big, bad-ass production companies were once newbies trying to make their mark on Hollywood, and if they like you (and yeah, I guess your writing, too) those same little companies will bring you and your scripts along with them on their rise to industry domination. All the breaks I’ve got—pilot sales, referrals to managers and agents, placement on TV shows—have come from associations with these small, hungry upstarts.

The last thing I’ll say is NEVER mail your scripts unsolicited to producers or companies which have not expressly asked for them. It’s not just that they won’t read them—most employees are legally required NOT to read unsolicited works for fear that you might sue them for intellectual theft if their company releases a similar project in the future. And to make it CLEAR that they haven’t stolen your work, these companies are required to physically return any script that is mailed to them, or delete any PDF. And this is a PAIN IN THEIR ASS. They won’t like it. And they won’t like the person who added one more silly task to their already busy day…

If you're hungry to get a script out to a particular company or producer, and don’t have a rep to make the connection, find a contact’s email address on the web (most can be found with diligence) and send them a friendly note asking them if you may send your script, along with a brief synopsis. If they say YES—you’re in! They’ll send you a materials release to submit with your project. If they say NO, or don’t return the email, wait a few months and try again. No one ever said you can’t break down doors—but if you want it to work, you’ll need to do it with great patience and respect.

 

Crap! Why am I in this business again?

Oh, yes—because making movies ROCKS.

Bad Writing

How many times have you gone to see a movie, or landed on a new TV show only to be SHOCKED and DISHEARTENED by the utter crap unfolding before your eyes?

If you answered EVERY DAY, then I’m with you…

The deeper I’ve gotten into professional screenwriting, the less I blame the writers. Most writers – even writers of total schlock – start out as smart, capable people with the same good taste as you and I. Then, after years of rejection, they make a gradual (and self-saving) move towards increasingly commercial product, then finally sell a TV pitch or screenplay only to find themselves in development hell for the next two to five years.

And that’s when the merely commercial becomes the aggressively awful. The development process can we a wonderful experience, and I’ve developed scripts with capable producers who’s careful, pointed notes have improved my scripts, and ultimately made them something I am more proud of. But that is often the exception. Quite frequently, the development process becomes a sort of “writing by committee” in which all involved parties are working to do two things at once: a) prove to everyone else involved that they deserve their lofty title, and b) try to claim, passively or impassively, a greater level of ownership over the final product. In this atmosphere, c) improving the project, can take a backseat and quickly become lost in the process.

Proven writers fare much better. They have the clout (and money) to throw up their hands and make their voices heard: “The character is a loveable brain surgeon who uses her Harlem street smarts to connect with patients! No, she should NOT have a split personality!” These writers are in a position to stick to their guns, and are not only taken more seriously, but in extreme cases, can risk derailing a project rather than let it drift into an area that they’re uncomfortable with.

But not so for us newbies. When you’re just breaking into screenwriting, EVERYONE you’re working with is more experienced and better paid than you are. When they make a suggestion – even a TERRIBLE suggestion – you better listen, and you better take their ideas seriously.

Complicating things further is the fact that less-important writers (read: “new writers”) tend to generate less-important projects in the eyes of producers and development execs. Which means these projects drop to the bottom of their list of priorities, and development meetings are fewer and further between than their big-dog counterparts. In this scenario, it’s not unusual for creative execs to COMPLETELY FORGET their own previous notes, and to offer TOTALLY CONFLICTING ideas in subsequent development meetings.

This is where it really gets sticky. In an environment where a new writer can’t always speak up on their own behalf, and must constantly balance sometimes wacky and frequently flip-flopping rewrite notes with their own ideas for improving their project, it is easy to end up with a project that answers everyone's separate concerns, but at the end of the day is simply CRAP. So often, this is the process that degrades the potential of a show or movie that started out with a unique hook, but left off with audiences rolling their eyes and demanding their money back…

So how do you avoid this fate?

Stick to your guts. Patiently argue for the merits of your own ideas. Try to interpret where other people’s notes are coming from, and suggest BETTER FIXES to these problems. But don’t blow your project! No one likes to work with an argumentative writer, or someone who seems unwilling to do aggressive rewrites. I know talented screenwriters living here is Los Angeles who had green-lit scripts that were eventually dropped because the writers were too stubborn, or too defensive about making changes. That attitude will get you nowhere.   

The people who eventually rise to the top, and get to make the kinds of projects that the rest of us look up to seem to have traveled two distinct roads:

a) They had their own money and/or celebrity connections. This rarified group has it the easiest, as they generally don’t need to report to anyone, and bring their project to life free from interference, and in many cases, free from concern about the bottom-line and  box office returns. These “indy” writers and directors often shoot a simple but poignant film that doesn’t immediately turn to gold, but makes them more bankable and proven in the eyes of producers, who will then get behind their “vision” on future projects.

b) They rode an elevator of crap until they reached the top. If you can’t bank your own project, there’s still a way to make films or TV shows that you’re proud of, but you may need to take several “crap baby steps” to get there. The trick here is to find a way to rise above the less-successful projects you’ve been involved with, and to get people to focus on the better ones. And when you finally land in a position to make the project YOU want to make, it better be damn good.

So many screenwriters reach a point in their careers where they can fnally get something made of their own choosing, then blow it with mediocre film or TV show. And they may not get that chance again…

To avoid this, writers need to stay sharp throughout the early stages of their careers, and ALWAYS RECOGNIZE the difference between MEDIOCRE WRITING and GOOD WRITING. You will probably need to write some less-inspired, pandering scripts on your path towards screenwriting success, and some of them might make you money or receive big ratings. But in your HEART you need to know that these ARE NOT REALLY the projects you want to make. And you must know that you can do better. Much better.

Once you’ve worked your way up to the middle, and finally have a shot to make a project that is TRULY YOURS, now is the time to re-watch those Woody Allen movies that made you want to pursue screenwriting in the first place, or to dig deep into your childhood memories and refocus on what makes YOUR writing unique and different. Hit COMMAND-F on your MacBook, and rediscover the first screenplay you ever wrote -- the one that was 190 pages long and went pages at a time without any dialogue, but which had the HEART and the UNIQUE VOICE that your later commercial work could not sustain. Get back to your base, and remind yourself of the career you’d LIKE to have—and not just the one you’ve settled for.

Bad writing is a nearly unavoidable consequence of the way we all do business in Hollywood, but the trick for screenwriters, I think, is to avoid self-delusion, and to always distinguish between those stepping-stone projects that you were grateful to write, and those big-picture ME projects that you really WANT to write. If you can do that, writing the schlocky stuff will be easier in the short-term, and won’t screw up your big-picture goals down the road.

Good writing is possible. But like so much else in Hollywood, it takes extraordinary determination, a long-term focus, and a PLAN for success.