I really enjoyed this Mike Fleming piece over at DHD.

As a writer, I have absolutely zero issue with a studio enforcing a deadline. Why shouldn’t they? They’re negotiated as part of the contract, and part of being professional is fulfilling your contractual obligations. But I hate one-step deals, and I’ve maintained that the proliferation of one-step deals has diminished the quality of the work. It looks like WB is making a trade here. We turn our scripts in on time, and they give us two drafts. By returning to two-step deals, writers can finally take their eye off the next paycheck and really marry the work they’re doing.

Well done, WB. A step back…in the right direction.

31 Comments »

I received an interesting question via email today.

Apparently, a screenwriting professor at a major university is teaching his students that scene headers should be formatted like this:

INT     LIBRARY     DAY

That is to say, no period for the abbreviation of interior, no dashes, and exactly five spaces between the words. The professor is, according to the email, very strict about this.

The professor is also, of course:

completely     and     utterly     wrong

Screenwriting formatting exists as it does for a number of reasons. Some make sense, some are anachronistic, and some are nothing more than tradition. Still, the format is the format. Are their acceptable variations? Certainly. For instance, I prefer to bold my sluglines, and I like two carriage returns before them, to indicate a new scene. Others don’t.

But those variations are minor. In the actual world of professional screenwriting (for which this professor is certainly charged with preparing his students), we never ever ever write sluglines like INT     LIBRARY     DAY.

Ever.

It’s INT. LIBRARY – DAY

or

INT. LIBRARY — DAY

That’s it. That’s the variation you get. If you do anything other than that, it’s annoying and amateurish and, frankly, bizarre. Look, showing up at the prom in shorts and a t-shirt doesn’t make you a bad person. It just indicates to everyone else that you either don’t give a damn about general conventions, or you’re just dumb and didn’t know. Neither is a particularly good way to start out with folks.

And if you write that way for a studio, they’ll likely just throw it back to you and say, “Reformat the right way, please.” Paramount and Warner Brothers include a style sheet with their contracts when they hire you to write.

Trust me when I tell you that “INT     LIBRARY     DAY” ain’t kosher with their style.

Look, I’m always the guy who says not to fret about picayune formatting issues and just concentrate on the writing. But the last thing you want readers doing is picking up your script and saying, “Oh Jesus, another script with these weird frickin’ scene headings. Who’s TEACHING this crap to kids?”

Well, you are, Mr. Professor. Cut it out. It’s okay to be wrong. Happens to the best of us. Fix it and move on.

42 Comments »

…of all people.

http://blogmaverick.com/2010/04/06/why-you-should-never-listen-to-your-customers/

Very relevant for our business, which has always struggled balancing chasing with leading.

Thanks to Phil Hay for sending it along.

3 Comments »

I’m talking to you, the aspiring screenwriter. You haven’t sold anything, or maybe one thing a few years ago. Been a while since you cashed a real check for writing; maybe you never have.

But you know what you do have? A community. You have the scribosphere. It’s a rich, vibrant support group, where you can seek out information, inspiration and encouragement for your creative and professional ambitions.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Let’s be real. It’s mostly a waste of time.

I’ve been to the places you go. Done Deal, the blogs, the forums…even my own are potentially ruinous for you.

I’ll explain.

When I started in this business in the early 90′s, we barely had email (and we tied an onion on our belts, which was the style at the time), much less all the stuff you whippersnappers have. If I had a question, you know who I asked?

The frickin’ sky. Then I curled up into a ball and fretted.

But mostly I just wrote.

And there, of course, is the problem. You’re all so saturated with discussions, analysis and interactions that many of you would rather talk about it than actually do it.

At their best, sites like mine offer you a chance to slip away from your work, maybe learn something…and maybe procrastinate for a bit in a relevant way. At their worst–and I’m afraid I see more “worst” than best–these sites are a trap. They function like some nightmarish barrel of crabs, where the ones on the bottom fight to make sure none of the others rise to the top. The inhabitants of the scribosphere are often jealous and petty, doling out horrendous and uninformed advice mostly to regulate their own fragile emotional states. “Do what I tell you. I know what I’m talking about!” types the man who is terribly frightened that he has absolutely no idea what the hell he’s talking about.

Everybody on the internet seems to know The Right Way. Everyone is ready to beat you about the head and neck with snark and attitude and smug superiority. Everybody seems to have perfected the art of “participating in a forum.”

But you know what 99.99999% of them haven’t figured out?

How the hell to be a professional screenwriter. A real, consistent, steadily-employed professional screenwriter.

So here’s the deal. Are you a real, consistent, steadily-employed professional screenwriter? You are? Good. Enjoy. Use the internet as you wish.

Are you an aspiring screenwriter who is completing drafts, getting your work out there, hustling for gigs and trying to perfect your craft? Good. Enjoy. Use the internet as you wish.

Are you a wannabe who is spending more time arguing, posing and socializing on the internet than you are actually writing?

It’s a trap. Retreat.

All the zeros you’re fighting with and winning points against and PM’ing with and snickering about? They last thing they want is for you to actually tune them out and write something. Because if you did, you might stop being an unaccomplished internet tough guy like them…

…and actually become a professional screenwriter.

73 Comments »

Carleton Eastlake, a current member of the WGAw board, has some thoughts on net neutrality, and he asked me to clarify mine. Here goes, with my responses in context…

Craig – I’m not sure I follow how piracy issues and genuine net neutrality issues are linked. I don’t mean this rhetorically, I’d really like to hear the expanded, not soundbite argument of how the sort of net neutrality the WGA or responsible Internet interest groups advocate precludes successful anti-piracy measures. Your post doesn’t give any concrete illustrations of what the problem might be. And on reflection, I’ve never actually seen a concrete description of the problem in the media or the tech magazines – just sloganeering.

There are two kinds of piracy that impact our (writers, that is) bottom line. The first is physical piracy: a factory in China duping DVDs of a handheld video recording of a theatrical screening of Avatar, for instance. The second is electronic piracy, in which legitimate DVDs are ripped and illegally distributed over the internet, almost exclusively via peer-to-peer channels.

I’m a little surprised by your admission that you don’t follow how piracy issues and genuine net neutrality are linked, because they’re so closely and clearly linked. I’m hardly the first person to point this out. The fundamental principle of net neutrality is that all information distributed over the internet be treated equally, i.e. internet service providers ought not censor, throttle or favor the transmission of any particularly web site or channel.

However, if we do not have net neutrality, it’s quite easy to see how the major ISP’s could, as part of content provision deals with the studios, throttle or completely block out the major P2P channels. In fact, the efficacy with which this could be accomplished is one of the battle cries for net neutrality by those who support it. This isn’t a question of conjecture.

You argue in one of your replies to Jeff Lowell that pirates won’t mind waiting long times for their theft. I disagree. If the time to download a DVD went from one hour to two days, it would have a massive negative impact on piracy, and hopefully a positive impact on our bottom line as writers.

I’m a big believer in free speech on the internet. However, let’s be honest about P2P networks. They exist almost primarily to circumvent licensing agreements on software, music and video. And they’re stealing money from writers every day. What an odd institution for the WGA to be defending…

Yes, to be sure, if the Internet were entirely privatized and a handful of companies allowed to monopolize its content, there would be no piracy. But there would also be no private email (email attachments would have to be scanned to be sure they weren’t communicating pirated content), etc. I know you’re not advocating that, but short of that, how concretely does piracy and equal access by non-criminal users on the Web interact?

I don’t think you quite understand what net neutrality is, Carleton. No one can “own” or monopolize the internet. The internet is nothing more than a connection of gazillions of individually-owned websites. And, of course, we still live in a free market. If I don’t like the way AT&T is delivering the content located on all of those individually-owned websites, I can opt for Charter or satellite service or WiMax from Clear…and that list is only going to grow.

If we do not have net neutrality, here’s what it means. ISP’s can tier their service so that some web sites deliver information faster to the end users than others…or slower to their end users than others. That’s the bottom line. Net non-neutrality doesn’t mean that your ISP will own your content, rifle through your email or sleep with your wife.

What is means is that I could theoretically pay a base fee of $20 a month for standard service, and $40 for standard service plus access to superfast downloadable movies. That extra twenty bucks would get split between the ISP and the content providers, and we…as writers…would get a piece of the content providers’ ten bucks per subscriber. That’s a simplified vision of how it could work, but all I can tell you is this: it’s vastly preferable to the current model of, say, streaming network shows for frickin’ FREE…supported by “ads” that no one watches, and which do not add a dime to our residuals base.

As for maximizing the revenue of the surviving major media companies on the net by allowing a degree of monopolization, that’s a point I’m ready to debate. I agree that no one should want out of spite to reduce the revenue pool that writers and other talent share in from the major companies. But I’d much rather see independent and specialty production and distribution companies also thrive on the Net. Having worked for several years at Cannell, a successful writer-owned TV production and distribution company that expired along with fin-syn “broadcast neutrality”, to coin an analogy, I’ve directly experienced the model of how net neutrality can restore an era of independent production that creates enormous opportunity -and revenue – for writers.

This is kind of shocking, coming from a board member of the WGAw. Let me get this straight. You favor the economic prospects of individual EMPLOYERS over the economic prospects of individual EMPLOYEES? Cannell the man was a writer. Cannell the company was an employer. As union members, our interests have to first run to the employees, Carleton. I, for instance, write movies for studios. My salary generates dues and P&H contributions to the union. Are you honestly saying that my financial bottom line is less important than the financial bottom line of a company hiring writers for an internet show?

See, the thing is, we’re writers until we’re not writers. The day I create The Mazin Internet Studio and launch a web show and hire writers to write on that web show, I’m an employer. I’m on the other side of the table. That’s not to say that I can’t be a good guy. However, it is to say that my interests as an employer shouldn’t be anywhere in the same galaxy of concern for the WGA as the interests of my employees.

In short, while I think it’s nice that writers can be as entrepreneurial on the web as they wish, the Writers Guild of America has to serve its primary function, which is to protect my interests as an employee. That’s what it’s federally chartered to do. That’s what all labor unions do. It’s fine for the WGA to help its employees grow into businesspeople, but not at the expense of the writers who still get hired to write.

Yes, we want to make sure that there are lots of employers for our services, and in that regard, I understand the desire to avoid anything that feels like it will throttle competition between the employers. But let’s be real…the companies that will challenge Fox, Disney, Sony, Universal, Paramount and Warner Brothers aren’t internet shops set up by individual writers. It’s the other big monsters out there like Microsoft, Google, Clear Channel, etc.

Why? Unlike print media, which…on the internet at least…has the potential for very low-cost production, movies and television shows tend to require serious capital investment.

If you think the future of the Internet is 5 minute webisodes, sure, there’s no point in paying it any attention. If you think in the next 5 or 10 years Netflix-like streaming or rapid mail delivery services are going to continue to grow in market share, and that independent producers may produce directly for these services and by-pass the studios, then you may care much more about Net issues, and really not want to encourage economic concentration on the Net.

Carleton, it’s precisely because I think the delivery system is going to get better and better that I worry about the impact of net neutrality. We will be able to download a feature film or television episode in HD in five minutes or less. At that point, why on God’s green earth would we want to limit the ability of the studios to monetize that speed and convenience? That’s our money too!

As another example, about the time Farscape was canceled by Sci-Fi, we made the simple calculation that if our hard-core fans made a micro-payment of 25 or even 50 cents an episode and there was a way to distribute it to them…we’d be in profit on the first day of release…and without broadcasters or cable services taking a share, giving notes… or canceling us. This wasn’t a daydream about writers owning the company or cooking up something in their basement, it meant that six sound stages in Australia and offices in the US and Britain, etc., originally founded by Jim Henson would be producing the same show with the same values and same budget…and that the same numbers watching us just in the US – not even the rest of the world – coughed up a direct tiny payment.

This is important. If I stipulate that your math is correct, then the obvious question is: why didn’t you do it? Profit on the first day of release without any middlemen or creative meddlers…surely you didn’t walk away from the holy Grail of television writing without good reason?

Of course you didn’t. Farscape didn’t become a web series because you (meaning the writers) didn’t have the money to deficit finance the show until the episodes were ready to air.

That said, you would have also been the first show of its kind to prove that lots of micropayments could support a series with a cable or network level budget.

I’m not saying that it’s impossible. Who knows? Maybe one day it will happen. But in the meantime, there’s that saying about the bird in hand. We have a pretty big bird in hand. I question the wisdom of mortgaging the health of our traditional, dominant revenue stream in pursuit of a maybe-one day-no one yet, but who knows and wouldn’t it be cool? revenue stream.

Some of this makes me wonder if your perspective as a tent-pole feature writer may differ from the perspective of a TV writer or feature writers who want to work on smaller budget, independent films. Sure, to make a big-budget feature film, it’s handy to have very big studios around to finance them. But i think you may be underestimating the negative impact on every other category of production.

First off, thanks for “tent pole,” although I don’t quite think I’ve earned that. 

I actually think it’s television writers who stand to lose the most from net neutrality. As a feature writer, I know that while the DVD market is dwindling, there’s a real chance that the internet rental market (iTunes, essentially) will take off, and our internet rental rate is an outstanding 1.2% of gross. That’s five times the DVD rate.

Television, though…yikes. Right now, the traditional rerun system has gone bye-bye. In its place, the networks stream reruns on the web, and they basically do it for free. That’s no kind of model. Television writers really need a system in which their network and cable shows are generating legitimate license fee revenue. Net neutrality limits the companies’ ability to maximize that revenue, IMO.

In general, extreme concentration isn’t a good thing for an economy. We’ve all seen what banking and investment concentration, defense industry concentration, even concentration of seed production for farmers (see this week’s LA Times) has done. The ultimate concentration, after all, is state central planning like in the good old Soviet Onion. Perfect capitalism requires a perfectly efficient marketplace with an infinite number of sellers and buyers with perfect knowledge – a neutral Internet is just about the most perfect capitalistic marketplace one can conceive. I really think we ought to give it a chance.

That does sound scary, but I don’t think it’s accurate. First, we have about the same number of major and minor studios as we’ve always had, going back to the 20′s. Second, the studios all hate each other and compete viciously for every dollar out there.

You view the studio system in too dystopian a fashion, and the internet in too utopian a manner. But in the end, I don’t really care whether or not the internet is a worker’s paradise.

Here’s what I care about.

My union has a contract with a number of companies. That contract pays me money as a percentage of their revenue. That revenue accounts for 100% of my income. It accounts for essentialy 100% of every WGA members’ income. The higher their applicable revenue goes, the more money I make.

If I’m going to support anything that negatively impacts or otherwise limits the growth of that revenue, it has to be really clear that I will net out positively.

In short, I think it’s unreasonable for the WGA to ask its members working in traditional media to subsidize the dreams of its members trying to strike it rich on the internet…particularly when it’s been years now, and web content creators haven’t really come close to duplicating the kind of income traditional media affords us.

41 Comments »

My daughter loves iCarly. For those of you without young children, iCarly is a sitcom on Nickelodeon about three middle-schoolers who create and webcast their own show on the internet. The webcast is extremely popular, and it gets them into all sorts of hijinks. How popular? In one recent episode, a Howard Hughes-ish billionaire invites the kids from iCarly to travel into space and do their web show in orbit.

Now that you’re up to speed on what my preschooler watches, let me whiplash segue to the WGA.

For a while now, the WGAw has been deeply enamored of New Media. Part of its interest has centered around proper residuals formula for the creation and exploitation of works by the companies. That’s largely what we struck over.

However, it’s just as fascinated with the creation of independent internet content by WGA members. At first blush, it all makes sense. Writers have always (and properly) insisted that we are the prime originators of motion picture entertainment. Why shouldn’t the WGA promote a brave new world in which WGA members own their own product…a world that eliminates the need for the rapacious companies? The internet kills the middle man! The stronger we are on the internet, the weaker the companies’ hand is during negotiations.

These are all reasons why, for instance, the WGA has taken a position in favor of net neutrality; the union wants to make sure there’s an even playing field for its own members as they create the new Foxes and Warner Brothers of the great cyber future.

There’s just one problem with all of that.

We don’t need the WGA to help us put material on the internet any more than we need the companies. That’s the point of the internet. Middlemen be damned. If I have an idea for a great web show, and I get it on the internet, and it becomes a real life iCarly that people visit in droves, then I certainly don’t require the assistance of a labor union. The WGA exists to represent employees of a cartel, for lack of a better word.

And, of course, the folks running the union understand this. So why all this evangelism of “stop being an employee” from an institution that does nothing but service the needs of employees?

Resentment.

Sometimes, the WGA goes after the companies because it wants more for its members. Thank God it does. Credit determination, residuals, health care, pension, creative rights, separated rights, minimums, parity in advertising…these are just a few of the benefits we enjoy because the union (i.e. leadership and membership together) did its job and did it well.

Sometimes, however (and more and more since 2005), the WGA goes after the companies because it just presumes that “if it’s bad for the companies, it’s good for us.”

Usually that’s true. But not always. And not this time.

It’s fun to promote a vision of the future where sisters are doin’ it for themselves. “Screw the fat cats! We don’t need them anymore!” is a great chunk of red meat to throw to a group of people who are understandably aggrieved. Unfortunately, and perhaps counterintuitively, we’re probably just making things worse.

How? Well, consider the paradox of iCarly. It’s a show about a really, really popular internet webcast. That part, of course, is an absurd bit of fiction. There is no such thing as an independent variety show on the web as popular as iCarly is implied to be. There are blogs like this one, there are podcasts that occasionally light up in exciting ways (Kevin Smith of late), but an actual show that people watch episodes of for entertainment? The web just isn’t very good at that kind of persistent viewing experience. It’s great for sketches, bits, one-offs…but a show with consistent characters working over the course of multiple episodes, season after season?

Not really. There have been some (I enjoyed Red vs. Blue for a while), but did any of them actually make it out there in the way that a hit TV show does?

And there’s the paradox. iCarly, a show about the cutting edge world of cyberentertainment, is actually incredibly old school. It’s a half-hour sitcom. Running on a cable network.

And because it’s a sitcom running on a cable network, it is vastly…and I mean VASTLY…more popular than any webcast out there.

As exciting and empowering as the web suggests it can be, there’s still no real money out there for us. It’s not like people haven’t tried, but the exceptions seem to prove the rule. Dr. Horrible was an internet hit and pretty much the best thing anyone’s done for the web (IMHO), but any given episode of Buffy was probably seen by more people.

Remember Strike TV? Well, that was WGAers doin’ it for themselves…but the bright future seems to still be in the future.

The lesson of iCarly is simple, to me. The idea of internet programming is cool and interesting and fresh. The reality is that traditional programming still dominates the culture. It’s fine for the WGA to find and use wedges against the companies, but let’s not shoot ourselves in the foot. iCarly, which I believe is covered under the guild, generates so much more for its writers than any web show ever has.

So shouldn’t we be concerned primarily with protecting the actual writers of iCarly, as opposed to the theoretical writers of internet shows like the one portrayed on iCarly?

If net neutrality reduces the companies’ ability to monetize their programming on the internet, it reduces the basis upon which we draw residuals from internet reuse…which was the thing we all struck over back in ’07/’08. Is that really what we want?

When it comes to negotiating the formula, what’s good for us is bad for them. It’s a purely adversarial relationship that must be negotiated, and occasionally resolved on the field of battle.

But when it comes to protecting the revenue on which those formulas apply…what’s good for us is what’s good for them, and we can’t let our resentment get in the way of that.

I love the internet (obviously). Still, the WGA needs to carefully evaluate its approach to New Media. The kids on iCarly are actors, and their webcast is make-believe.

But the men and women sitting in a room writing the cable program about that make-believe?

They’re real. They’re employees. They’re supporting our membership with real dues and real P&H contributions.

And they should come first.

17 Comments »

A few days after my blog on the ageism settlement, the New York Times has weighed in.

…a deeper look at the settlement and its terms indicates that the defendants might not be giving up all that much, and that anyone who is expecting the floodgates to open with opportunities for older writers is likely to be disappointed.

Mmm hmmm…

“The best way to look at the settlement is through a fairly narrow lens,” said David R. Ginsburg, the executive director of the entertainment and media law and policy program at the School of Law of the University of California, Los Angeles. He noted that the statements of the targets of the lawsuit that they were settling the case merely as a business matter and their contention that they were not admitting any discriminatory acts “are not the sounds of a chastened defendant.”

True, true…so far, they’re singing my song. But what about the money?

Together, the defendants agreed to a $70 million settlement, but about two-thirds of that will be paid by insurance carriers. That means that no network, studio or agency will itself be on the hook for more than about $1 million — less than the average cost of a single half-hour of television production.

Subtracting the roughly 40 percent of the $70 million that will go for lawyers’ fees and other expenses leaves $43 million for the plaintiffs. About $2.5 million of that will go to create the Fund for the Future, which will issue grants and loans to affected writers “to further their writing careers and study ways to supplement their pensions and improve access to medical insurance,” according to the settlement terms.

While that leaves about $245,000 for each of the named plaintiffs, few if any will get that much, because the payouts will depend on how many people apply for and are granted membership in the class of affected writers. Even a quarter of a million dollars is not much when spread over 10 years, the time the lawsuit has been pending.

Boy, three for three. I’m tempted to think the Times reads this blog, but the fact is that the conclusions are so obvious, it’s far more likely that they arrived at them independently.

And, interestingly enough, the article also talks about how the hiring trend over the last decade has been away from ageism. So what we have here is a settlement addressing a cause that may or may not exist, the circumstances have been getting better on their own, the settlement changes absolutely nothing about how business is done, and the plaintiffs won’t even see much money.

But the lawyers…ohhhh, the lawyers.

Congratulations, Paul Sprenger! You were the lead counsel for the plaintiffs, and you’ve done it! You’ve made THIRTY SEVEN MILLION DOLLARS. Gee, I wonder why these suits are so popular…

Hey, you want to hear something interesting?

Here’s what Paul Sprenger said back when this case began.

Last month, 28 television writers filed a class-action lawsuit that seeks to alter ageist hiring practices in Hollywood that have deprived them of their right to pursue their profession in violation of federal and state civil rights laws. While acknowledging that older writers have “a legitimate ax to grind,” Brian Lowry wrote in his Nov. 1 column (“An Age-Old Question Persists in Television”) that “it’s hard to see” how the suit “will bring about any real change.” I respectfully disagree.

Do you now?

Underlying Lowry’s pessimism is his view that “profit-conscious executives” are “more apt to risk parting with a little pocket change to settle lawsuits” than to hire writers older than 40–at least as long as these executives continue to “presume twentysomethings are best able to write for and appeal to twentysomethings.”

Yes, such pessimism! Studios would never just part with a little pocket change to settle a lawsuit…

The primary goal of our lawsuit, however, is not merely to compensate writers for the income they have lost to date. The main goal is a court order compelling compliance with state and federal laws in the future. This type of court order (called a “consent decree,” if arrived at by settlement) would require networks, studios and talent agencies to institute measures intended to make age discrimination far more difficult, if not impossible, from continuing.

There you go! Now that’s noble. That’s honorable. And you’ll stick to that, right?

During the past 30 years, I have litigated scores of cases, which, like this one, have alleged that the defendants were engaging in a systemwide policy or practice of employment discrimination. In these and hundreds of similar such cases brought throughout the country, the plaintiffs have sought structural reform that is designed to ensure that unlawful discrimination does not occur in the future. Such court-ordered structural reform is pivotal to the resolution of most discrimination class-action lawsuits and has brought systemic change, ranging from desegregation of schools to the breaking of glass ceilings in heavy industry for women.

Yes! Pivotal! A resolution without structural reform is no resolution at all! Preach, brother!

Should the writers who have brought this suit prevail in a trial on the merits or should “profit-conscious executives” feel compelled to settle the suit, they will not be afforded the option of purchasing the right to continue their ageist hiring practices in exchange for “a little pocket change.”

THEY WILL NOT BE AFFORDED that option! Will NOT! Tell us what you’ll make them do instead, Paul!

Rather, as in other cases involving the violation of federal and state civil rights laws, they will be required to alter their practices in a manner that is designed to eradicate the unlawful “custom” of ageism and to ensure that older writers are afforded the right to equal opportunity under the law.

Yeah! Stick it to them, Paul! There’s no way that 10 years later, you’ll be doing exactly what you said you would not and should not do: settling the case for pocket change, getting no structural reform, and not even getting an admission of wrongdoing…but rather a legal confirmation of the absence of wrongdoing.¹

I mean, unless the evil studios pay you off with $37 million dollars. At that point, who can hold it against you?

For the rest of you folks out there who don’t have $37 million dollars in settlement money, here’s what you can do to get a piece of this pie. Cuz honestly…if you don’t take this money, it’s just gonna end up going to the few writers who brought this suit, and that doesn’t seem fair either.

First, do you meet these definitions?

The “Professional Television Writers Settlement Class” means all persons, except Excluded Persons (who are described below in the answer to Question 7), (a) who performed at any time television writing work covered by the Writers Guild of America Minimum Basic Agreement (“MBA”) or who performed for compensation television writing work not covered by the MBA, (b) who were 40 years of age or older as of January 22, 2010, and (c) who, while 40 years of age or older, had an interest in securing Television Writing Opportunities and/or talent agency representation for the purpose of securing Television Writing Opportunities, at any time between October 22, 1996 and January 22, 2010.

The “Aspiring Television Writers Settlement Class” means all persons, except Excluded Persons and members of the Professional Television Writers Settlement Class, who were (a) 40 years of age or older as of January 22, 2010, and (b) who, while 40 years of age or older, had an interest in securing Television Writing Opportunities and/or talent agency representation for the purpose of securing Television Writing Opportunities, at any time between October 22, 1996 and January 22, 2010.

Get that? Are you 40 or older right now? Have you, or have you ever wanted to, write television professionally? Or even just get a TV agent?

I’m gonna guess that covers everyone over the age of 40 who reads this blog.

If you want, go get yourself some cash. The instructions and rules are here.

1. Don’t believe me? Here are the terms of the settlement if you remain in the class…

   If you remain a Settlement Class Member, you will release five types of rights, all of which cover the period October 22, 1996 through and including January 22, 2010:

   · You will release, and never be able to file or re-file, any past age discrimination claims you may have against Defendants and their corporate affiliates (including claims of the kind covered by the federal Age Discrimination in Employment Act, as amended by the Older Workers Benefit Protection Act);

   · You will release, and never be able to file or re-file, any past age discrimination claims against everyone (not just the Defendants and their corporate affiliates) as to any television projects in which a Defendant or one of its corporate affiliates was creatively, financially, or otherwise involved (including claims under and of the kind covered by the federal Age Discrimination in Employment Act, as amended by the Older Workers Benefit Protection Act);

   · You will give up the right to bring a collective action under the federal Age Discrimination in Employment Act, as amended by the Older Workers Benefit Protection Act;

   · You will release claims that Creative Artists Agency, LLC (CAA), aided and abetted the alleged age discrimination of the Defendants or otherwise is jointly liable with the Defendants (including claims that CAA failed to take reasonable steps to prevent age discrimination from occurring at the Defendants and Settling Party Affiliates or in connection with the Television Writing Opportunities covered by the releases);

   · Except to the extent prohibited by law, you will be barred from introducing any purported evidence of age discrimination that occurred prior to January 22, 2010 in making any future age discrimination claim against any Defendant or Settling Party Affiliate. [↩]

13 Comments »

There was once a time in America when great lawyers argued great cases in front of great judges.

A number of those cases were about things far more important than contracts and regulations and petty crime. They were about the soul of our nation.

Those cases literally changed our culture, our understanding of what it meant to be a human being, to be free to choose, to vote, to live as equals…

But I’m not going to talk about any of those cases today. Instead, I’m going to talk about a case that was misguided, silly and frivolous. I’m going to talk about how it dragged on for years, enriching attorneys.

Then I’m going to talk about how it ended with a nonsensical whimper, spreading some money around like a balm, but impacting none of us in any real way.

Yes, this should be depressing if I do it right.

Years ago, a number of (mostly television) writers got together and decided they were going to sue Hollywood: all the studios, the networks and the big talent agencies. They were going to sue them because it was their fervently held belief that they were being illegally discriminated against.

How so?

Their age. Now, put aside that the numbers would more strongly support such a lawsuit from black writers or Asian writers or Native American writers or albino writers. And put aside that most of the people running the studios and networks and big talent agencies are over the magic age of 40, which is where the plaintiffs drew the line in the sand. And put aside the fact that just about every hit television show is run by someone over the age of 40.

Hell, put aside all the other arguments I made years ago about why there are perfectly logical reasons why people may find it harder to get work as a Hollywood writer as they get older…none of which involve employers hatin’ on the 40 and overs.

These plaintiffs didn’t care. They believed they stopped working because they got old. In their world, all the people who stop working in their 20′s and 30′s just…well…I dunno, suck I guess…but they stopped working for one reason and one reason only.

Their incredibly advanced age of…40?

Ugh, I actually felt myself getting dumber as I typed that.

Part of the legal argument they made was something like this: the government defines discrimination in a certain way, much of which revolves around outcomes not matching what you’d expect if all things were equal…so if there’s an age imbalance in the writing staffs of television shows, then there must have been de facto ageism involved.

In short, causality is presumed, which, as anyone reasonable will tell you…is just silly.

Silly? Why, then this latest quintessentially American legal excapade might just have a chance!

So what happened? Yesterday, all of the networks and studios and talent agencies (save my agency, CAA…and I urge you to fight this, CAA!) decided to settle. Yes, a settlement. An agreement. An understanding.

Here’s what they did.

They all got together, all gabillion dollars of market cap between them…and they decided, one presumes, that the legal fees were outweighing the actual cost of a settlement, so how much would it take to make this shakedown go away…and the number was…

…drumroll…

$70 million dollars.

Whoa! That’s a lot, right? Well…kind of. On the other hand, that number is split among 17 corporations. If it’s split evenly, that’s about four million bucks a piece. Oh. Well…still…that’s not too bad, considering that–wait, what?

Oh dear. Turns out that about 2/3rds of the money will actually be paid out by the 17 corporations’ insurance companies.

So instead of an average of four million a company, the actual retail price of what each company is paying out? More like an average of a million and a half.

Each.

Wow. That oughta bring them to their knees!

But I’m being negative. It’s not about punishing the companies financially. It’s about changing the unfair system, right? The plaintiffs struck a blow for social justice. They got Hollywood to admit that it was biased against old folks, and–

Oh. Oh no…

The defendants strongly deny the plaintiffs’ allegations and state that their hiring and/or representation practices fully comply with the law and reflect their commitment to equal employment opportunity. They also note that they all have long-standing anti-discrimination policies and regularly employ or represent substantial numbers of writers over the age of forty.

Of course. This is the way it goes. Brown sues the Topeka Board of Education over unfair discrimination. The Board of Education hands Brown an envelope with some cash they’ll never miss, then announce that they’ve never discriminated against anyone and they’re not changing shit about the way they do business, so back to your Colored school, Mr. Brown…

Um, sorry. I forgot. That was a different time.

In this time, the plaintiffs say, “Yup. We’re fine. That’s the settlement. You deny doing anything wrong, we stop chasing you in court, and you give us some cash.”

Which, by the time the lawyers take their cut and divvy the remainder up among the class, well…I’d be surprised if anyone buys a yacht when this is all wrapped up.

And so, this absurd chapter in our business (mostly) concludes. Most of my friends working in the business are still over the age of 40. Most of the people running the business are still over the age of 40. We now have a resolved legal case in which the plaintiffs are willingly going along with a settlement that denies the very argument they made to begin with.

In the end, they behaved true to the oldest of Hollywood principles: they took the cash.

Although, when you think about it, what they really did was take the cash to go away.

Finally, their absence from the work force will have a clear and unambiguous explanation.

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First, I apologize for my absence. Work calls, and well…I hate to say it, but…I kind of got bored with blogging for a while there. It’s not that I didn’t have anything to say. I did.

I just didn’t feel like talking much. God knows there are plenty of people out there who wish that condition to remain permanent, but perhaps all I was waiting for was something juicy.

Et voila, enter “the scriptshadow.”

Before you read any further, stop now and read John August’s excellent article here.

Go. Do it. I’ll wait.

Okay, you read it? Good. Now you know what the deal is. Scriptshadow is some guy operating under the blanket of internet anonymity. He reviews screenplays, many of which are still in development. He also occasionally posts links to the scripts themselves.

I have a problem with this. But first, let me tell you the problems I don’t have.

I don’t have a legal problem with this. The studios almost certainly do, and there are all sorts of copyright issues involved here, but in this particular circumstance, they don’t get my goat.

I don’t have a “convenience” problem with this. Yes, the more guys like Scriptshadow post screenplays in development, the more annoying studios will get with their writers, forcing us to jump through all sorts of security hoops, when all we really want to do is just write the damn things and be done with them.

I don’t have a personal problem with this, i.e. as far as I know, Scriptshadow has never bothered reviewing any of my screenplays. No grudges to speak of.

Finally, I don’t have the “barrier” problem. Many defenders of Scriptshadow believe that he’s doing the Lord’s work in breaking down the barrier between the pros and the non-pros. The more screenplays in development the aspiring writer can read, the better his or her chance of writing something the studios will want to buy.

I rue how difficult access is, and I empathize. That’s one big reason I started this blog and forum (with our Ask a Pro section), and it’s why I was thrilled to be a part of the excellent Nashville Screenwriting Conference this year. I will certainly be back in Nashville in 2010. It’s also why I go after the cottage industry of nonsense books, courses and scams designed to separate desperate writers from their money.

I want you to succeed. This is not a zero sum game. Your success will not impact mine. If you write a great script and I write a great script, they’re both going to get attention, and hopefully they will both get made.

Here’s my problem. Here’s my one single problem. Sometimes, Scriptshadow posts reviews of screenplays that are in development.

So?

THE SCRIPTS ARE NOT DONE.

Let me repeat that.

THE SCRIPTS…ARE NOT DONE.

You would think writers would understand. And yet, so many don’t get it. When we write a draft, it’s a draft. It’s an attempt. We may find it absolutely awful and horrifying, and yet necessary as a basis for the next draft, which will be good. We may be writing the draft to address notes we think are completely misguided, with the optimistic (and often rewarded) belief that once the note-givers read the draft, they’ll finally see the light. We may be writing the draft to race a deadline, and we’ll fix it after. We may be writing the draft for an actor who is hopelessly miscast, and once that actor is gone, we can do it right.

And yes, of course, maybe we just stink, and this one isn’t very good.

Yet.

But dear Scriptshadow…it’s NOT YOURS. Not yet. Soon it will be. Soon it will belong to everyone. But not yet. And anyone who really gives a damn about movies should see that and believe it and just…well…KNOW it.

Why experience someone’s writing before they’re ready for you to experience it? Even worse, why critique what you know IS NOT DONE?

Do you go to a restaurant, ask for raw chicken and a glass of wine, then review the coq au vin?

Let me tell you, I’m the last guy in the world to get precious about what I do. I’ve got years of blogging here to back that up. I’m the guy who says we shouldn’t be arty-farty about the gig, that we should remember this is a job as well as a creative pursuit, that screenwriting is about writing movies and not about writing documents…

…but I deserve one thing.

I deserve to goddamn finish my script before you or anyone else in the audience tells me what you think. You can hate it allllll you want when it’s DONE. And a draft isn’t “done.”

In short, my writing process, and the writing process of anyone who does this job, be they on the top of the mountain like John August or a newly-optioned-for-a-buck rookie, deserves and requires PRIVACY.

Privacy, Scriptshadow. Privacy until we decide we’re ready to show it to the world.

Not you.

Us.

Privacy is why you should stop reviewing screenplays in development. Because hey, if you didn’t believe in the value of privacy, in the value of holding things back, in the value of protecting that which you’re not ready to make public…

…then why call yourself “Scriptshadow” instead of your name?

Right, Christopher Eads?

175 Comments »

So here’s what I knew about Tahiti.

Bubkus. To be honest, I was only vaguely sure that it was in the Pacific, as opposed to the Caribbean. Here’s what I know about it now.

What we think of as “Tahiti” is actually French Polynesia. And “Tahiti” is merely one of the many, many islands that comprise French Polynesia, which is scattered across a massive portion of the Pacific Ocean. There are basically three sections (by basically I mean “more than three, but three big ones”). The Society Islands include most of the resort destinations: Tahiti, Bora Bora and Moorea (not to mention the late Marlon Brando’s private island Tetiaroa). The Tuamotu Archipelago contains lots of the best diving locations, including Rangiroa. And the Marquesas, which include Nuku Hiva and Hiva Oa, are the more rugged islands that were featured on Survivor.

My adventure began with an eight hour red-eye from Los Angeles to Papeete, Tahiti (the only “city” you’ll find in French Polynesia). Let me just take a moment to sing the praises of two drugs. Ambien is a tiny little pill, but it has the magical power to transform an endless, sleepless, jet-lagging flight into what is basically teleportation. You sit in your seat, you take the pill, you close your eyes…you open them and you’re there. Awesome.

Side note…if you haven’t read Stephen King’s short story The Jaunt…you should.  It haunts me to this very day…

After landing, we jumped on what would turn out to be the first of about four hundred thousand small plane rides, this time heading from Papeete to Bora Bora.  Our accomodations were the luxurious overwater bungalows at the Intercontinental. I checked in, put my bathing suit on, walked out the back door of my bungalow, and jumped in the most beautiful water I’ve ever seen. It’s hard to get used to the brilliant color of the French Polynesian water. Depending on the depth, it’s either deep blue, sky blue, turquoise blue, aquamarine blue, or some other alien-world shade of blue. The depth changes abruptly, so the water changes color along clean lines, as if someone carefully painted each lagoon.

After a short swim, the wonderful madness began.

Our two main guides for our trip were Franck Priot of Film France, and Jonathan Reap of Tahiti Tourisme. They were a pretty amazing duo. Franck’s job was to design as many possible inspirational and educational moments into each day, and Jonathan’s job was to figure out exactly how to do it. In theory, it’s a recipe for disaster, but in practice, they were brilliant. Franck planned every moment of every day as if our lives depended on how much we could possibly experience. Jonathan…well…Jonathan is basically the Mr. Wolf of French Polynesia. If you need something, anything, at any time of day or night, he’s your man. He solves problems. He makes stuff happen.

I’m not sure, but I think Jonathan knows every single person who lives in French Polynesia. And they all owe him favors.

Between the two of them, Franck and Jonathan could pretty much get us into (and out of) as much excitement and trouble as they desired. Case in point: the jet skis. Our first mission, undertaken just hours after arriving, was to jump on jet-skis in the lagoon in Bora Bora and then ride out into the open ocean and arrive at the atoll of Tupai.

Here are some facts.

None of us had ever been on a jet-ski. People aren’t traditionally allowed to jet-ski out of the lagoon. There were reports of 3 meter swells in the ocean. The Coast Guard was advising against the mission. And people aren’t normally allowed to set foot on Tupai anyway.

To which Franck and Jonathan said, “N’importe quoi.” And off we went.

I have to say that it was a wonderful feeling to be free of the normal American bubble of fear-of-litigation. Within minutes of learning how to jet-ski (sit down, press accelerator, hold the hell on), we were all catching air, getting smashed in the face with seawater, slamming into massive waves, chasing our guides at absurd speeds, wind screaming in our ears, our asses banging against the seat…

I loved it. Nick Schenck actually got tossed off his jet-ski. Our guides finally gave up fighting the waves and said we had to head back to the lagoon. Franck announced that this first mission was a “failure,” but he couldn’t have been more wrong. It was a complete success. My heart was pounding, my legs were aching (all of us were muscle-cramped for days), my eyes were burning…but I was already in love with this place.

A simple observation: if you involuntarily shout “OH!” more than ten times in an hour, you’re getting some living done.

After our jet ski adventure, we took a boat to a private motu (motus are small atolls), where we had a traditional Polynesian lunch. This was the first of many meals that centered around poisson cru (literally “raw fish”). Polynesians are very proud of this–their most famous dish–which is typically a mixture of raw tuna, onions, lime juice and coconut milk. It’s quite good, especially when someone cracks open a fresh coconut, grates the inside of it using a traditional tool, then squeezes the coconut milk right into the tuna. On the other hand, every single person we encountered in French Polynesia fed us poisson cru. Every…single…person.  It was as if they hadn’t considered that other Polynesians would have had the same idea. So while I really enjoyed poisson cru, by the time we had our fifteenth serving of it on day 7, it was a bit much.

Got bad enough that we eventually decided we would name ourselves The Poisson Crew. I know…but trust me, it’s very funny…if you’re really tired and eating poisson cru. Again.

Up next…swimming with sharks. The real ones.

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