Kris Anderson

...
The September Six
Hollywood Then and Now
by Kris Andersen

From writers on their cell phones perched high atop the Hollywood Hills to those hunched over their laptops at the local Starbuck's, the same laments are being voiced: What do I have to do to get my work noticed? Is it just me, or are others feeling an increased difficulty in getting agents and producers to read the scripts that are mounting up in my bottom desk drawer?

The prevailing perception seems to be one of frustration, experienced not only by fledgling screenwriters, but by veterans as well. Moreover, the situation seems to be worsening, so Hollywood Scriptwriter asked six seasoned writers for their views on how they broke into the business and what advice they can give to others who are frustrated in their attempts to do the same.

The following six writers have already made their mark in the business, and all have been working screenwriters for at least a decade. Larry Gelbart is the most senior member, who is still cultivating a successful comedy-writing career that spans fifty-five years {"M*A*S*H", "Barbarians at the Gate"). Terry Rossio ("Mask of Zorro", "Godzilla", "Men in Black") and Shane Black ("Lethal Weapon", "The Long Kiss Goodnight") are men of action--action scripts, that is, while Josann McGibbon and her partner, Sara Parriott, define a more genteel sensibility as evidenced by their romantic comedies ("Runaway Bride", "The Favor"). Rounding out the group of mainstream writers is Sollace Mitchell, a writer/director/producer who hails mostly from the world of independent films; his new film, "Row Your Boat", starring Jon Bon Jovi, is currently making the film festival rounds. So, listen in as these writers offer their unique insights, perspectives, and advice into the thorny world of making it in Hollywood.

Q: Is it more difficult nowadays for a beginning writer to get noticed?

Rossio: Of course. This has always been the case. It's never been as hard as it is right now to break into the business, and it will never be as easy as it is right now, either.

Q: What has changed?

Black: I don't know what the change has been...I think it's difficult to get anybody to read anything.

Gelbart: Given the traps out there for the new writer (to say nothing of the old writer), I wouldn't want to be starting out in this business next Tuesday. In the good old, bad old days, scripts would not remain in development for years and years like today. Ben Hecht's "Nothing Sacred" went from the idea to script to the last day of shooting in exactly three weeks. The stakes were high then, too. Movies have always been about money, but stories were based on sounder principles than special effects and a desire to shock, either sexually or through violence, and they did not have to compete with so many other choices a ticket buyer can make these days--between TV, Cyberspace, pop music, etc.

Mitchell: Up until six or seven years ago, if I came up with a relatively commercial script idea, I might not sell it on the first pitch, but I'd probably sell it within the first five meetings. I've found that in the past five years or so, I've had to work twice as hard to sell a script or a pitch. It's always been difficult to get someone to read your script. I think it's even harder today, but I believe it's more a change in kind rather than degree.

Q: Can you explain what you mean by that?

Mitchell: There is a climate of "spec script-itis" which I think stems from the last Writer's Guild strike [Ed. Note: 1988]. Then, the writers had little choice but to buckle down and finally get that spec script written. After the strike ended, the script market was flooded with specs, and development executives could pick and choose what they wanted. This spoiled them. I mean, if you're an executive and you have a choice of sinking a lot of money into developing an idea which may or may not work, or a finished script which you think is already commercially viable, then obviously your choice is a no-brainer. And if the spec script isn't quite there, you can always hire people to rework it.

Today, it's much more of a buyer's market which makes it tougher for all writers, top to bottom--especially for those writers nearer the bottom. And their agents feel it, too. They're finding it more difficult to get work especially for their bottom-tiered clients.

Q: How has this shift in perception affected assignment work?

McGibbon: The big trend is to have many writers on every project. The perception is that writers are more disposable then they used to be. Replacing writers was far less frequent. That's the difference that I've noticed.

Parriott: Absolutely. When it comes to pitching, there are more people involved. We used to get a meeting based on a ten-minute approach--what we think the theme is, what the main characters are doing, and what the three acts are painted in broad brushstrokes. But now there seems to be a need for detail--character arcs, character background, and so on--that didn't used to be.

McGibbon: They want a beat-by-beat account of the story, not after you land the job, but before. It's really irritating...

Parriott: ...and very frustrating, too. There's no way you can give them everything during a pitch because you don't know everything because you haven't written it yet! To some extent, it stifles the creative process.

Mitchell: Although there are more projects today, there seems to be less assignment-based jobs, and I think one of the reasons for this is that the A-list writers are getting more of the work. It falls into the old way of thinking that if it costs a lot of money, it must be good. They're known quantities, they've worked with the studio before, and the studio keeps going back to them rather than spreading the wealth.

Another reason is that studios may be waiting to see spec scripts rather than going out with an assignment. And when they do come up with an idea, they they'll probably go with someone they've used before so the work stays within a small circle of writers. It only breaks out at the level of picture that goes straight to video or goes foreign because they have to have cheap writers. It's one way that fledgling writers can cut their teeth in the business, but the danger here is that some writers never break out of that mold.

Q: It's never been easy to get an agent...Do you think it's tougher now?

Rossio: I do think it is harder to find representation these days. We have a case of a writer who has made a sale to a big production company, who has interest in his work based on other meetings, has good coverages by readers and good recommendations from entertainment lawyers, producers and development people--and he can't get an agent. He keeps getting turned down. The old rule was that once you made a deal, the agents flocked to you. In this case, that hasn't happened.

Q: It used to be that there were quite a few guild-signatory agencies who would consider unsolicited script submissions, but now, it seems as if nobody will read anything unsolicited. Why is that?

Black: Agents can't afford to nurture writers anymore. They'd rather court an overnight success because they need to be paid off quickly. It's a lottery mentality. No one wants to work. Everybody wants to win and they want it now.

Mitchell: Yeah. Nobody seems to want to nurture the good, solid writer anymore. Everyone wants to find the next blockbuster script. An agent actually told me that if a writer isn't bringing in at least $60,000 a year, the agency can't afford to carry him. So, with that kind of pressure, it's much less likely that the agent will find the time to read a script that comes in over the transom. Even I have difficulty getting other agents to read my scripts, and I've been in the business for fifteen years! I think if you're just starting out, your only choice is to write that big-hit spec, and to know someone who can get it to an agent.

McGibbon: That's a good point. Our agent won't take on new writers unless their scripts come with a recommendation. Sara and I will read scripts and if we're wowed by it, we'll pass it along.

Q: So, what are agents looking for?

Parriott: Our agent is always looking for something new, something in a genre different from what his clients write. The reason is that he doesn't want his clients competing for the same job.

Agents are constantly looking for something new and fresh. Young male writers aren't as interesting to our agent as, say, female writers or writers with a "twist." That's because there are zillions of the former and so few of the latter.

McGibbon: It also helps to have an element [e.g., actor, director, producer] attached to your script when you shop it around, especially an actor. Most people won't consider a pitch from a writer now unless there's a star attached, say a Sandy Bullock or a Jenna Elfmann.

Q: What about using lawyers or managers instead of an agent?

Mitchell: Some established writers don't have agents, they use lawyers mostly to draw up contracts. The plus side of using a lawyer is that their service fees are typically less than an agent's [usually 5%] but the downside is that they don't have time to make calls and keep abreast of studio happenings like an agent does. Lawyers are really only effective for the top-paid talent, where it's the studios who are calling the lawyer asking for the client rather than the other way around.

Managers cost more [15-20%] and I'm not sure they're worth the extra money. But they do perform one important service: they will keep bugging your agent. This is good because the agent won't forget about you and if your manager also happens to represent a big-time actor, director, or another writer, the agent will make an extra effort to get your work out because he doesn't want to piss-off the manager.

Parriott: Josie and I have had the same agent for fourteen years and we feel that he's doing an adequate job of getting us work and trouble-shooting problems. We don't need a lawyer to do the deals and we don't need a manager to guide our careers. We're already two writers and we don't feel like splitting the pie with more people.

Q: What about going the independent route?

Mitchell: The difficulty in going this route is that it's tough to make a living at it because you're desperate to get it made and you're usually operating on a shoe-string budget. You defer your fee until the film gets made, and sometimes even then, you never get it. It's fine to do that for one or two films, but you can't keep doing it because at some point, you need to make a living. Even if you have one hit, you still might only make a modest amount of money. Where the eventual payoff comes is in the next deal which you hope will be more commercial.

Another difficulty with going the independent route is the amount of time it takes to take a project from inception to completion. In the case of my current movie, ROW YOUR BOAT, it took about eight years. Finding adequate financing isn't necessarily easier than convincing a studio to buy your script. It's really name your poison.

The only advantage of making your own script is you're controlling how the script gets interpreted. I think the only real reason to make your own film is because you have a burning desire to be a filmmaker or a director, and not just a writer. If your primary objective is to be a screenwriter, you would do this once because the money happens to be there and your friend is a director.

Q: What advice would you give to a fledgling writer looking to sell a script?

Parriott: If you're moving out here fresh from Ohio with a screenplay, you should try to get an entry-level job somewhere in the business so you could be in the position to slip it to someone, just like I did.

Q: Are connections really that important?

Parriott: Oh, yes. Before I began writing for film, I was writing humor books. At the time, I had a job as a production assistant and become friends with a producer who offered to read one of my books. He liked it so much that he wanted to option it, but told me that I needed an agent to handle the deal. He said, "Call up this person." I did, and he became my agent. At the time, I had no idea how difficult it was to land one, and subsequently, when Josie and I began writing scripts together, my agent became our agent and we've been with him ever since.

Mitchell: I got my agent through a friend who was friends with the playwright John Guare and he had a friend who was a Broadway director who knew an agent. (laughs) It was through four degrees of separation that I was able to get in touch with this agent, and even after that it wasn't easy to get somebody to read my script. I got lucky because I won the WGA-East award for screenwriting and after that, I had agents calling me. Agents are sharks to some extent and if they smell blood, they'll definitely come.

I firmly believe that you need a connection, a referral--a friend of a friend, your hairdresser's cousin--anyone with a connection to an agent. If someone handed me a good, salable script, I would give it to my agent or my lawyer and have them read it.

Rossio: There is a phrase Roger Avery told me once-"Getting the Good Read." He said that it was all about getting out of one pile and into the other. There are many people who can claim to get a screenplay to an actor or a director, but which pile does it go into? The "I'll read it this weekend" pile or the "I'll get to it someday" pile? The big name people can command the "Good Read," and that's when projects happen.

It works the same with producers and agents. It's hard work to give a script an effective read. People grow reluctant to do so, because it takes so much time to find a good script. So, you want to get something that at least one other person you trust has recommended.

Black: Also, I think it's important not to shove your script at people you don't really know. It's...I don't know...tacky. It's much better to make sure he or she is genuinely your friend first.

Q: Besides connections, what else can a writer do to get his or her script noticed?

Black: Give yourself the time to write a really good script. Don't just toss it off. Don't try to just get by. On the off-chance that someone does pick up your script and reads it, make sure that it catches them. No one's going to wait until page forty for the story to kick in. If you can't entertain someone within the first ten pages, then there's probably something wrong with your script.

Mitchell: I agree. There's so much competition out there and so many scripts to be read that if you haven't hooked your reader in the first 15-20 pages, the rest of your script won't be read.

Rossio: Do the job of the studios for them. Give them a movie, a fully and completely realized vision, a screenplay that can be shot tomorrow.

McGibbon: And you must be terribly self-critical of your work because that producer doesn't want to read every draft of your script.

Q: What other advice would you give to a new writer?

Black: It's very difficult to get on the inside. You need talent and persistence. Always be alert to people who are willing to read. Join a writer's group, enter a contest, go to a convention, or do anything to surround yourself with people who are in the same boat, if only to remind yourself that there's nothing wrong with where you are. You're not alone.

I think that by surrounding yourself with people who have the same creative vision as you, you can stack the odds in your favor. You can support and help each other not only by reading each other's scripts, but also by helping each other along the way. When one of you has achieved a certain amount of credibility or success, then hopefully that person can reach down the ladder and help one of the others up a rung.

Mitchell: My advice would be to write at least two spec scripts because it's a sign to yourself and to everybody else that you're serious about it. Everybody has an idea for a movie, but few follow through with it. Unless you have an absolute genius for screenwriting, your first script is a learning experience, and hopefully your second script will be much better because you've learned so much. Lightning can strike the first time out, as we read in the trades, but what we don't read are the two thousand or so other writers who don't sell anything until their fifth or sixth script.

Plus, you should have at least three other ideas for a script because you don't know what an agent is going to respond to. What makes a writer a potential cash cow is the ability to come up with fresh ideas. People like to think that you're not a one-trick pony: "This person has a fountain of ideas." So, if you've written two scripts and have at least three great ideas, you're way, way ahead of the game.

Gelbart: I've always felt that writers, young or old, need to be as creative about their careers as they hope to be about their work-they have to find ways to get their scripts, their names, and their very presence known to those in a position to help them. This means more than just getting an agent, for agents are only as creative, aggressive, and effective as their clients are.

Rossio: I'm getting this image... You know how at the start of, say, the Boston Marathon, you've got thousands and thousands of people crowded together, all wearing those little numbers? Okay. Imagine they're screenwriters, trying to break into the film business. Now, there's only a very limited number of people who are even going to be allowed to cross the finish line, and everyone is in competition with everyone else.

BANG! the gun goes off. The runners all look around in confusion because the course has not been laid out. No one even knows where the finish line is-and, in fact, there may be several different finish lines--and the location of some might be changed in the course of the race, some might be opened up, others shut down. So the runners all head off in all directions, feet pumping hard, hoping for the best.

Salesmen hawk their "How to Find the Finish Line" books on the sidelines, but they pretty much don't know any better than anyone else, and their stories of how it was done before are quickly out of date. Oh, and the race is being held in Bangladesh, so you can't even understand the road signs.

This becomes a bit of a random game, and a losing game for most writers. Yes, some writers might find their way along so-called "normal" channels, and finish the race, but most success stories come from writers who do something a little differently. They say, "To hell with this, I'll make up my own race," because the industry is always sympathetic--always--to those people who invent themselves.

This could involve optioning material, or finding success in some other field (novels, playwriting, comic books, etc.). It could involve making a short film, or a low budget film, working in animation, or stand up comedy. Or, through associations with other filmmaking folk: directors, actors, choreographers, musicians. If I were a new writer right now, I'd be hanging out at special effects houses, providing material for those folk to experiment with. These seem like radical choices, but more and more, writers are going to have to find ways to market themselves--to turn themselves into name brands, people who appear to be experts in their fields. Those are the people who are going to get the attention of the studios.

Q: It's been said that Hollywood is really a cliquish town, and by that, they mean that studios tend to use people that they know and like. Do you think that's true?

McGibbon: Hollywood is an industry built on relationships. There's a lot more women in the business than there were, and there's something comforting about sitting in an office full of women. After the business is done, we all end up talking about schools and children. This small talk is really important; it builds a deeper connection, and even though we may not get the job today, we know that we'll all be working together in the future.

Rossio: In the past, it was the agent who orchestrated the marketing of a new project. Now, the release of a project is based more and more on personal contacts and industry relationships. There's no way for me to tell if this is a general trend or just part of a (I guess I'll say it) maturing career.

Parriott: The point is that everybody wants to work with people they have fun with. Developing relationships really pays off. Put your best personality out there. What you don't want to do is burn your bridges.

Q: You bring up a good point-should a writer be easy to work with?

Parriott: Part of the creative process is that you're given certain parameters to work with, and if you're not flexible and resist them, then you won't get the job. If you can be fun and tolerant, they'll hire you.

Rossio: There are only ever two factors, I believe. The first is the ability to reassure. If you're professional, if you've got great ideas, if you present the ability to give solutions quickly, if you listen, if you're got a great background in films-these are all reassuring factors. That's your first job: relieve their anxiety that they might be making a costly, time-consuming mistake. What's the other factor in getting hired? Price. And there, the beginning writer automatically has an advantage.

Mitchell: If you tend to be more of a "yes-person" and if you're eager and say, "Hey, that's a great idea!" then you'll probably do better than someone who isn't that way. If you at least try to make it work, then you'll probably be viewed in a more favorable light. It's only human nature. If I'm an executive and I have the choice between working with a writer who is easy to get along with, who always loves my suggestions, and is eager to please or working with, say, a slightly more talented but also more abrasive writer who doesn't take criticism well, then I'll go with the former because I know what needs to be done and what my boss will greenlight.

A certain amount of "schoomziness" is required... However, a writer needs to stick up for himself at a certain point.

Gelbart: "Easy to work with" doesn't mean that you should be totally compliant and willing to do or write anything to stay with a project. A writer should only be easy within him or herself. Fuck politics.

Q: So, how do you know when to stick to your guns?

Parriott: We pick our battles. I'm surprised at just how often if you stay in there with the executive long enough and step them through the problem, you'll come up with a solution that everybody likes.

McGibbon: It also helps having two of us because it's not the same person's voice saying "no."

Parriott: Sometimes you have to figure out what they're really saying and then come back and tell them where you think the problem lies.

McGibbon: If you don't take umbrage quickly, the problem usually works itself out. On the other hand, there are some people who are impossible to work with and you don't want to work with them, anyway.

Black: You should be easy to work with but you should also resist the temptation to act like a victim. Writers tend to have a victim mentality. If you feel very strongly about something, you should fight for it.

Gelbart: I have never taken myself off a project. I am egotistical and experienced enough to feel that I can lick any problems a project offers. I only respond positively to notes with which I understand and agree. If I get a bad note, I try to discuss and illuminate it rather than simply comply with it.

Q: Anyone care to elaborate?

Gelbart: Of all the areas of writing in which I've been involved over the past 55 years--radio, TV, film and the theatre, screen work has been the most unpleasant, at times the most tortured.

My best work has been done in television and for the theatre, for obvious reasons. Fewer hands have been laid on. Fewer cooks, fewer notes, fewer helpers, fewer mavens. The chief objective in both places has been to serve the material--not a star, not a director, not market and research or merchandising people, just the material.

What I write for the tube or the stage is what reaches the audience intact. Any changes that are made are changes that only I have made. Only I can compromise the work.

In film, I have not had that luxury. And nowhere near as successful a body of work. One exception is the screenplay of "Tootsie," where after a year of doing the script, it became the object of a rewriting frenzy, the center of a power struggle between the twin towering egos of the film's star and its director. Once the rewriting started, I was out of it, after a year of intense involvement. I was given no further notes, except one of farewell. In retrospect, leaving the project beat the hell out of another six months or so of sturm and drang and the constant fiddling with the script. Any compliment I'm paid for that work always triggers a mental asterisk for me as I reflect on how tarnished that writing credit has become.

In the past few years I have had a number of similarly unhappy experiences. I've been hired to work with and for people who admire what I've done in the past, only to learn after several drafts that they want to put whatever they admire about my craft, more than my creativity, at the service of their ideas. The result has been five or more wasted years, with not one of those pages appearing anywhere on the screen. I guess you could say I'm very partial to my material.

Q: Will talent always be recognized?

Black: There is so little out there that is really, really good. If readers get something that is terrific, they will respond. "Look at that, all the spelling is correct!" they might say. Bad grammar bothers me, and when I come across it, I begin to doubt whether that person can tell a good story or not.

Rossio: The key factor is time. Over time, quality will "out." You couldn't hide a fantastic script for several years if you tried.

Mitchell: Yes, but what does "talent" mean? Does it mean the ability to come up with a commercial idea, the ability to tell a story, the ability to write a compelling script, or all of the above? People will recognize a well-crafted script, but if it's not commercial, they might remember you, but you can be tagged with being an uncommercial writer. There's a talent for being salable and a talent for genuinely good writing, but they don't always coincide.

I think if you're just a good writer who writes good dialogue and good characters, you will be recognized, but whether you'll be rewarded in measure for your talent is another question. But people will become aware of you. Extraordinary talent gets rewarded sooner or later.

Q: What are the qualities that make a script good?

Black: To me, dialogue is essential. It's the key to writing a good script, but the story is important, too. People like to be surprised. Everyone is looking to be led by a good storyteller. They're looking for tricks and twists; they're looking for reversals. They want to be fooled as long as they know the person who's fooling them is good at it. They want to feel as if they're in capable hands. They don't want to be led along tangents and they don't want to feel bored.

Q: Any final thoughts?

Rossio: Create your own franchise. Also, a part of every writer's education should be to learn how to option material, and to go out and do it.

Black: In essence, write two scripts, be around supportive people, and keep your eyes open.

Mitchell: You should love the work. You have to realize that not every screenplay is a pay check, and you should like writing it so much that you feel you'd rather fail doing it than succeed at something else.

McGibbon: We still can't believe we can make a living doing this.

Parriott: Shhh! Don't tell anybody!