The Writing Week (Vol. 6 ) part 275 - Need to Plan Next Projects

Half of your success as a writer will be determined by the strength of the screenplay you are trying to sell. The other half is determined by your ability to pitch and sell your next projects.

No agent/producer/lawyer/manager/studio wants a one-off writer. All those entities, whether they outright say it or not, are in the franchise business, and you, my friend, as a writer are a franchise. To be the most valuable commodity you can be, to get all of those people and buyers and businesses behind you, you need to give them a long-term reason. That reason, naturally, is a series of ideas you can continue to produce for them.

When I took my meeting at UTA (can it really almost have been three years ago already?), my manager worked with me to prepare three pitches for additional specs before I even got in the room with the agent. Sure, I had a strong script that we all thought would be a relatively easy sell (it wasn't - so sad), but that wasn't enough. No matter how great that one project was, my agent's time was more valuable than a single sale. I needed to show him that I'd be around working and earning for years to come. But, let's step back a moment - before UTA was even on the horizon for me, I was settling into a partnership with a pair of producers and a new (to me) manager. One of the very first things my manager asked for was another script of mine. He, too, was testing the waters of my writing; he was relieved when I said that the somewhat inferior script I gave him as a followup (the only other viable one I had on hand at the time) was an earlier script. It wasn't as strong, but I was younger when I wrote it. Similarly, if you recall, when I met with a publishing friend about my children's book, one of the first things she advised me to do was come up with other book ideas I could mention in meetings with potential agents. 

Clearly, having additional ideas is valuable - and it is best to keep them in the same genre as the project that you're gaining attention with, since that is where your strengths are most immediately visible to people who have only minimal, but favorable, exposure to your writing. Sometimes, though, it can be hard to focus on what's next when you're in the middle of a large project, or even when you're coming down onto the tail end of it. I recently got the (hopefully) last draft of the sci-fi collaboration to my partner. He liked it, and aside from a few notes we'll discuss in the coming days, didn't see the need for many more edits. If that's in fact the case, then we'll give it to our producer and representatives next. Barring glaring errors or holes that they might discover, we'll be fast approaching the "try to sell it" stage, which means looping my agent in. Yes, that same guy at UTA and, no, he's not aware I'm working on this yet. There's no reason for him to be until there's a product, since I haven't really been on his radar since the post-Apocalyptic spec failed to sell. But, the moment I call or email him to present him with a spec I wrote for a know director, all that will change. At least, it should. And I will be shooting myself in the foot if I don't have a laundry list of the next specs I want to write ready to give him. So it is time to put on my thinking cap, dust off the old ideas, and determine what projects I want to work on next. 

The Writing Week (Vol. 4) part 197 - When do you Concede on an Idea?

Ideas are not flexible. They are set in stone. That gem of a thought that will lead to the (your) next best screenplay is priceless and incorruptible. It comes as is, or it ceases to be. You won't budge on it, because you shouldn't. And anyone who fails to see the genius that it is clearly just doesn't get it. They never will, so you can forget about trying to show them the light. It's their loss if they ask you to change something. Their loss, and their admission of simple-mindedness. 


My manager called me last week to discuss an idea I had emailed him about, which Jon (known here as Onyx) and I are working on. He was interested in what I sent him, but yet he had a few concerns about it. Mainly, he felt as though there were too many components to it. We were compounding three movies into one, with disparate elements that - while they might function fine together - could be separated and reduced to streamline plot and efficiency. He didn't outright say no to anything, but he wasn't overwhelmingly sold on the complete package yet, either. 


Ideas are malleable. They are fluid, and they evolve based on the needs of the script at hand. A character might not be working, his intentions unclear and ultimately detracting from the script. A plot point might not make sense. The decision to kill off the protagonist will prove itself unmerited, and the result is a grim screenplay without a sense of hope (and therefore, higher sale potential) that comes from allowing your hero to live. The genius idea that birthed the story might falter, but the supporting elements around it can carry the weight, rendering the golden nugget tarnished and unnecessary. Not everything works, and as much as you might love a line or scene or character or other part o an idea, knowing when to let the weak link go is essential to your job as a writer.


Jon and I discussed my manager's feedback briefly (we'll have a longer chat about it later when not both so busy). The main trouble with the outline we presented was the key aspect of the story Jon brought to me - a setup for the overall story, which fades from the setting about halfway through the script. As much as we liked it, as much as we both felt that the foundation for the script was unique and interesting, we both acknowledged that it also added elements to the story that we could remove, without losing much later. Something happens to our protagonist, and he finds himself in undesirable circumstances. The particulars of those circumstances, however, can change. We went one way to start with, but though we both liked it, we know we're not wedded to it. 


It's hard to let an idea go sometimes. Others, the kernel that got the ball rolling can be sufficient as just that; once the idea is more fully formed, you're free to move away from it and to let the project evolve as it needs to. Still, there are other instances in which deciphering that line - when do you hang tight, versus when do you drop something - can be extremely, agonizingly difficult. What do you think? When do you concede on an idea?

The Writing Week (Vol. 4) part 196 - Developing (More) Ideas (Again)

Another week, another set of experiences and work. following a recent discussion I had with my manager, in which he told me that - due to the fastidious state of the spec market industry now - I should consider developing some more ideas to pitch as my next script. Unfortunately, that means temporarily casting aside the Medieval spec, which I already did two drafts of. C'est la vie. 


He gave me some guidance for going forward with crafting these new loglines. The short of it is that I should come up with something tried and true (i.e. a hitman on his final job), but with a unique twist (his targets are monsters). [Aside: this probably isn't unique - I can almost guarantee it isn't - but hopefully you get the idea.] The theory behind this notion is that Hollywood is particularly finicky now, and that the only way to really break in with a spec is to do so with something that's been seen, but is a new angle for the premise. My post-Apocalyptic spec fits this criteria (though, that wasn't intentional on my part); it's a post-Apocalyptic detective story. So far, though, that hasn't amounted to a sale or even really any glowing interest. Again, c'est la vie. 


Now, I can imagine that there are a lot of detractor out there who feel that this sort of advice is a corruption of a writer's "artistic integrity." You're probably right. I probably agree with you. But we have to keep a couple things in mind when discussing this holistic approach to writing a spec. First, the compound ideas that I'm talking about relate more to giant blockbuster tentpole ideas (summer action or horror flicks) than to smaller indie ones. If you write smaller scale character dramas, you needn't concern yourself with the above. Secondly, as much as it might seem like selling out to some people, I feel you have to ask yourself; "would I rather break in with something I'm not quite as keen on than not break in at all?" 


That's an oversimplification of the issue. Let's look at it this way: Sure, mashing two ideas together to create something commercial and "new" as your inaugural script might seem like a less inviting way to explore your writing skills. However, these projects can still be a Hell of a lot of fun to write. More so, if they take off and you nail that major sale, then soon enough, with a few more projects under your belt, not only will you be able to support yourself as a writer for a bit, but you will gain the coveted and necessary power to pitch your dream project. And, quite likely, to get it made. Now isn't that a fair trade off?

The Writing Week (Vol. 4) part 181 - The Idea Race, or How My Idea Wasn't Stolen

We're in a race, you and I. But it's not just between us. It's one that all other writers are competing in, too. What's the race, you ask? It's the race to get our ideas developed into scripts that sell before another writer does.


All - or at least many - writers harbor some degree of fear about their ideas getting stolen or leaked. That's natural. The truth of the matter, though, is that there are thousands if not more writers all working on scripts at the same time. Some are doing it for money. Some, like us here at the League, have yet to earn much or anything from our scripts. We're working comparatively off the map. But we're working. And I'd probably put money on the notion that someone out there has an idea for a script that's very similar to one I have and am working on/have worked on. It's just a race to see which of us can produce pages and get them into the right hands first. 


Does the fact that so many of us are working now mean that all similar ideas are stolen? Nope, it means the opposite - simply put, there are a lot of writers writing, and because many of us are trying to write based on an existing market's tastes, we're going to wind up with overlapping ideas. That said, idea stealing can and does happen. It's just not necessarily as common as some might make it out to be. Also, for us off-the-mappers, it's pretty unlikely.


Take, for example, a script entitled ABDUCTED, which just got logged on Done Deal. By John Heffernan, it's described as "'Die Hard' on an alien spaceship." I pitched something semi-similar to my manager a while ago. I hadn't started working on it yet, nor had I really developed it. But the intent was an action movie set in space, mostly aboard a ship. Common threads abound. However, there was no stealing. There was nothing I can concretely claim as having been mine. none of the (few) industry people I pitched it to are involved in this project that I can tell. It's just a fact of this game that there are a lot of people working on a lot of scripts out there, and we're all each other's competition. All I can do is accept that something related sounding got picked up and move onto the next project in the idea bank when it's time. Better I learn about ABDUCTED now, rather than when I have a draft in hand and am trying to circulate it. 


I lost this race. Hopefully, I'll win the next.

The Writing Week (Vol. 4) part 160 - How to Present Your Rep With New Ideas

Continuing with the focus of the past few weeks, I thought I'd turn a bit of attention to what, exactly, it is that I'm submitting to my reps. Before I had my manager and agent, I didn't quite know what it was a writer would share with his/her "team" when sussing out new ideas. Whole scripts? That sometimes seemed unlikely. Outlines? Verbal pitches? A logline?


The answer, I've found, can be all of the above and, often, a combination of them in a certain order. When working with my manager, as I have been the past few weeks on these ideas, we tend to start off with very general, very short bits of ideas. I'll send him a sentence or two, sometimes without much more than a vague setting, theme, or approach. For example, "Kevin, what about Gladiator underwater; a deep sea diver has to rise up against the king of Atlantis when he is taken captive." Essentially, it's a logline, but it doesn't even have to be that yet. (I'm always wary of giving what I consider to be an extreme idea, since someone out there is likely to see it and want it; if in two years, scuba-Gladiator is on the big screen, please give me a shout-out.) 


From there - and consider, we'll do this with a handful of ideas - I'll distill the approved concepts into actual loglines. The goal here is to make them more market ready, clean up the language, decide on protagonists, and make sure they read tightly. Next, we either go to the agent (or producer, etc.) with the loglines or, if we need more, I'll hit the drawing board for a bit and come up with a paragraph or two for each idea. The one or two sentence loglines become 3-5 sentence paragraphs expanding on the concepts, painting the worlds a bit more vividly, and elaborating on the protagonists' goals. 


Next, it's off to the agent or producers. The ideas only go out once. If a logline is returned without interest or fanfare, it does not become a paragraph, at least, not any time soon (for now). If the idea garners interest, the outlining phase begins. In recent years, I've really stopped writing without an outline. I find I don't have the time to spend on a draft that wanders aimlessly. That's just me. Some writers manage quite successfully without outlines, storing entire plots in their heads until they write furiously or just waiting to see where the characters take the script. That no longer works for me. 


Once an outline's approved, that's when I'll start writing. By "approved," I don't necessarily mean that my reps pour over each outline and sign off on each plot point. I have to like it, for one. More though, at this point, I'm writing a product that other people are (theoretically) saying they will stand behind. If it goes way off course of delves into the realm of "unproduceable," they let me know. Mostly, and I don't always show my reps the outline, this step is to guarantee that the larger picture still matches up with what everyone thinks is sellable. 


Granted, you say, I haven't made a sale yet. True, but hopefully these steps will bring that first paycheck about sooner, rather than later. 

The Writing Week (Vol. 4) part 159 - Trying to Come Up with New Script Ideas

Let's face it, coming up with ideas for new scripts can be hard. Especially if you're like me, you don't often just sit down at the computer or with a notebook and spend an hour trying to come up with ideas. The best ideas generally hit you when you least expect it - when you're walking to the store, on the train to work, or in the shower - and the source of their inspiration can be impossible to find. Maybe you saw something that triggered the idea. Maybe you remembered something. Maybe there's no logical explanation for it at all, but whatever electrical synapse that just fired through your brain left you with the germ of a script that you cannot wait to start writing.


For me, those experiences that come out of nowhere are how I generally come up with new ideas. I rely on those eureka moments to keep me in pages for the next three to six months. But what happens when you don't have the time to wait for those moments to hit?


As it happens now, I'm in that less desirable place. I need to get my agent new ideas, because we haven't found one that quite clicked for him yet. Sure, I have dozens of ideas logged in my "Logline Master List" document, but I track the market and know that a lot of them aren't right yet. Also, since the project that I have producers, a manager, a lawyer, and an agent for is a tentpole action piece, that's the kind of script I'm working on developing more of. Problem is, a lot of my ideas in that master list are much smaller, more appropriate for an indie production company than a major studio's summer flagship.


On Friday, I made myself sit down for an hour and come up with other loglines. I think I got about five. Of those, there were maybe only two I'd really want to invest a lot of time in now, and many of them were quite similar in nature, only set in different worlds. I had a bit of an ah-ha moment yesterday while taking a walk (which I did in part to get the creative juices flowing), and as much as I like the idea, I think it still might be too small. In the end, though, I need more ideas and as much as just staring at a blank drawing board can be frustratingly unproductive, an hour spent with a notebook in hand is better than a night spent without even trying. The routine you find yourself in can be essential to your writing process, and I know that by forcing myself to sit with a pen and paper for an hour, no matter how much my mind might want to wander, but focusing and concentrating I will eventually come up with something (even if it's just the fuel that sparks an idea while I'm on the train to work the next day).

The Writing Week part 48 - Back On The Horse

Last week, I was both disappointed and encouraged (though more the latter) by a rejection I got from a management company. Sandwiched between then and now was Thanksgiving, the mother of all holidays, especially for starving artists. Not only did I trek back to Northern Virginia (OK traffic on Wednesday, living Hell yesterday) for food, friends, family, and firewater (lots and lots of firewater), but I had some time to think about what I wanted to focus on next. While I didn't do as much thinking as I would have liked, I did let the ideas roll around in my wine and whiskey addled head.

As a writer, overcoming a writing slump can be a timely endeavor. I have four ideas I'm sorting through right now. I have a very bare-boned outline for two of them (read: I know roughly the trajectory they might take). One idea is heavy on the concept, but light on any concept of execution. The last is pretty much just an idea inferred from a title. What I do know, though, is that it's time to start putting things on paper again. (And, consequently, time to send out query letters for my comic book style spec - thanks, League, for help on the logline last week!)

It's an interesting thing we aspiring writers face - the ability to keep writing in the face of any possible distractor: holidays, relationships, family, and (the BIGGEST) often disagreeable day jobs. How do you do it? What's your trick for not letting that slump go on too long, for making sure you get back on the horse in time to finish the race?

I've found, and I think Zombie would agree, at least recently, that working on more than one project at a time is a great way to keep your head above the water. It's quite easy to be reluctant to do this, after all, wouldn't that mean working on more than one project at a time?!?! Daunting, yes, sometimes. Personally, while I'm a big proponent of outlines, I also hate them. I find that they give me, without fail, at least one whole week of pure, unguarded hell before I make headway in them. After that walk through fire, the writing I do seems cheap and dirty. I know exactly what'll come next, who will say what, and where Character X kicks the bucket. Working on two new projects at the same time usually would mean working on two new outlines at the same time, and that's just no good.

The key, then, is to dust off one of those scripts you've put on the back burner while working on that devil's minion of an outline at the same time. I think that, at any given time, there are about 5 scripts I have gathering proverbial dust in the deep recesses of my computer. As long as I still have any attachment to them, it's worth taking them out for a walk, at least as a safety blanket while I struggle with the outline of death.

Then again, outlines and oldies, maybe they're just my way of getting back on the horse. Writers, what are yours?