I’ve been thinking about the immediate future of this site, lately. I start shooting my movie in about three weeks, and when that happens, I go bye-bye for two and half months.

Well, maybe if I’m not totally dead on the weekends, I can throw an update on, but it’s gonna be a dark stretch…and then there’s post. That’s almost worse.

I’m sort of in denial about it, so rather than try and solve that little problem right now, I think I’ll just answer some questions. Yeah. That will solve everything…

Q: I recently joined a group of writers who wanted to write a script. It started out as an “exercise”. We got along very well….wrote a pilot and are confident it is good enough to sell. We had it copyrighted and registered it with the Writers Guild. I am the “creator” of the idea. Five of us wrote the pilot. Who really owns the pilot? or the “Idea”? All of us? We are now writing a new episode and there are only three of us involved. Do all five continue to benefit if the sitcom is sold? or do we have to copyright each episode? Or do we just sell the idea (if someone wants it) and move on – all benefiting financially?

A: Arrghhh.

I get these questions a lot. It’s natural. Writing collaborations are a bit like spontaneous sexual connections. People sort of bang into each other in the heat of the moment, and then try and sort out the responsibilities and ramifications after the deed is done.

In the case described above, the “idea” doesn’t really confer “created by” in any real sense. Ideas aren’t ownable. A story, however, is. If the questioner had written a story, and then he and four other writers cowrote the dramatization (i.e. script) of that story, we’d have something to delineate. That’s not what happened though.

Since five people wrote the pilot script including the story contained therein, then the Five should be considered the “creators” of the “series.”

Any ensuing episodes should be judged as scripts written by those three people, but based on the characters and story created by the Five.

Generally speaking, show creators do benefit from the continued production of episodes of the show they created (via the pilot).

But you know what?

Here’s a nutty wacky thought.

HIRE A LAWYER BEFORE YOU DO STUFF LIKE THIS.

Let’s say you were planning on starting a business selling clothing to people. Four other people wanted to get into business with you.

You’d hire a lawyer.

Hire a freakin’ lawyer.

Folks, all sorts of misery and tears and yelling and ruined friendships can be avoided by being clear up front about what the reality of the arrangement is.

Or, if you really want to protect yourself, do what I do.

Write alone.

Q: So here it is: how are writers how are credited as producers, or supervising producers, or execs, contracted? are they doing separate agreements under WGA jurisidction or does the wga recognize those producer credits?

the reason I’m asking is that the producer association up here (in Canada) is resisting the whole idea of writer-producers; I’m not sure how it’s going to play out but I was hoping someone could give me an idea of how it works in the U.S. where it seems people know how to make television.

A: WGA writing credits are for writing only.

Writers can also produce (I produce my movies, for instance, and many television writers also serve as producers on the shows they write), but the money they are paid for producing is not subject to Guild terms, nor are producing credits determined by the WGA.

There is a producing association here that’s also miffed about the proliferation of producing credits. Amusingly, the quote on their front page (from Hawk Koch) is all about how everything starts with a good story and script…but whatever.

Point is, they don’t like the watering down of their credit, and to an extent, they have a point. Certain producing credits are handed out like bon bons or door prizes. Still, I staunchly defend my right as a writer-producer to hold that title.

Because I actually do produce.

As such, I’m in favor of standards that help define what those credits mean, but I’m against any kind of blanket ban on hyphenates.

Q:I am a full-time newspaper reporter who wrote a story that recently caught the eye of a major studio. I know this because a friend of mine who works at that studio is the one who tipped them to my piece to begin with. So my newspaper obviously owns the story (including the notes, the drafts, etc.) and I am not a character in the article, meaning I can?t benefit from it being optioned (I think). However, is there any other way I can become involved in this project To put the question in the American parlance: Is there anything in it for me? I?d love to write a screenplay based on the article, but seeing as how I?ve never attempted that I highly doubt the studio would tender such, no matter how many decades I?ve been a professional writer. Knowing this general framework, can you suggest what, if any, role there is for me in this? Is there, for example, a job where I help the professional screenwriter craft the script? (If there?s a term for this I apologize.) When screenwriters work together does one perhaps just deal with the narrative structure, details and storyline? (This I could do.)

A: If you want to be a screenwriter, I suggest writing a good screenplay.

Seems like obvious advice, but just like overweight people (and I’m one of ‘em) who just refuse to accept the whole “eat less an exercise” thing, there are loads of people who are positive that there’s a way to game themselves into becoming a screenwriter.

There is not.

First off, your initial premise may be incorrect. If you write a newspaper article overseas (and you imply you’re not American), I suspect that you do retain copyright in some fashion. You may also retain film rights. I don’t know.

If you do, then you can benefit by receiving a fee for the film rights.

If you don’t, then here’s what you can do.

You can ask the studio if you could pretty pretty please write a screenplay adaptation of your article. For the least amount required. And you’ll get it to them really, really fast.

Then write a very good screenplay.

If you do, chances are that you can be a screenwriter.

If you don’t, chances are that you can’t.

No, there aren’t arrangements where one person deals with the stuff in the article, and the other person does all the “easy” stuff like dramatization, characterization, dialogue and scenario.

Dude, that’s the hard stuff. Anyone who has read your article now has everything you’ve offered…so why do they need to carry your weight?

Q: Why do screenwriters (or whoever is holding the gun to their heads) have to overplot movies? This is a common complaint for me, but watching Red Planet is what prompted me to write. It’s not enough to have 4 astronauts stranded on Mars (how will they get home?) or a good mystery ( why is there suddenly oxygen on Mars?). Either one of those could make for a great movie (the first one already did). But on top of all this, they have to add a rogue killer robot. One plot point to many, and it topples over into silliness. A potentially great movie, good cast, etc., and 7 years later it’s late night viewing on cable and a punchline (if anyone thinks of it at all).

A: It happens because it’s easy.

First of all, can I just point out that the state of email writing is pretty bad?

There is a pressure from studios to “raise the stakes.” It’s a phrase every screenwriter has heard a million times. “Raising the stakes” is the dramatic equivalent of monosodium glutamate. It’s a cheap way to goose the audience. Still, lots of people enjoy it. Personally, I’m with you. Endlessly raised stakes can feel empty and silly, particularly when they don’t seem to flow naturally from the central character’s thematic needs and growth.

On top of that, you have the demands of the sequel. One must outdo the movie that came before it, lest the audience feel “cheated.” This is an odd way of looking at sequels, if you ask me. The audience will never feel cheated if they are enjoying an engrossing, well-told story with a fresh narrative and interesting characters tackling engaging themes.

That’s not as easy for a studio to understand, however, as MORE.

This is why superhero movies so frequently fall victim to the “two villains…no, THREE villains…no, FIVE villains!” theory of sequeling.

I was so happy when Spiderman 2 managed to stick with a one villain format. Spiderman 3 definitely suffered from three villains. Overkill to be sure, but it’s all about insecurity.

At some point, these movies become so expensive and so critical to the corporations producing them, security begins to override creative restraint.

Curiously, this often backfires.

Funny world we live in.

Okay, that’s all for now. When I come back up for air, I’ll answer a few more of the backlogged questions.

23 Comments »

Yeah, fine, it’s my dirty little secret. Sometimes I don’t have anything worth saying to you people. And yet, I know you’re out there. Running a blog is a little like being on the roof of the mall in Dawn of the Dead. I can forget about the crowd outside for a little bit, but when I look down…

…you’re all still there.

Hungry for brains.

Well, if that analogy hasn’t turned you off forever, allow me to stopgap things for a bit with some Q&A. Oh, and no, that guy in the picture isn’t me. He’s better-looking than I am, even passed out and rubbery as he is.

Q: Why don’t you use “funny names” in your spoof movies?”

A: Because they’re not really funny.

Well, there’s funny names and funny names.

Fielding Mellish is a funny sounding name, but it’s not a funny name.

“White Bitch” or “Captain Jack Swallows” from Epic Movie are “funny” names, i.e. they pull a Mad Magazine on the name of the character you’re spoofing.

There are two reasons we don’t do this when we make spoofs. The first is that it’s so easy, anyone can do it, so why would anyone actually laugh?

This brings to mind a great joke from The Simpsons. We see the writing room of Mad Magazine. All the writers are quiet. Then one says, “How about…Everybody HATES Raymond?” The other writers laugh, and the editor says, “Well, it took all night, but it was worth it!”

The second reason we don’t use funny names is that they’re not funny after the first mention. Nothing is. Repeated jokes try the audience’s patience, unless it’s a running gag that builds.

This brings to mind a not so great joke from The Simpsons. This week’s episode was about Little League. Nelson is the pitcher, but instead of throwing the ball, he tosses it up in the air and punches it toward the batter. Cute joke…the first time.

The third time? Yikes.

It’s the same with funny names. Even if you get someone to laugh at “White Bitch” once, they’re not going to laugh at it the twelfth time.

We call this rule “Can you live with it?”

There is one and only one “funny name” in the ZAZ pantheon (and I include SM3 and SM4 in that). First person to name it gets a nod of recognition.

Q: How does one go about writing a remake? Can anyone pick up an old movie and retool it for a modern audience? Or do you have to be connected with the studio who owns the rights?

A: Carefully, no, no.

First, the easy part. Copyright includes control of so-called “derivative works”, which include screenplay adaptations. As such, if you’re serious about writing a script that will get produced, you do need to either purchase or option or receive a license for the adaptation rights from the copyright holder. For those of us who write professionally, this almost always means being hired by a studio that controls the underlying rights, although there are many inspirational examples of screenwriters taking the bull by the horns and going straight to the author on their own.

Some books have fallen into the public domain, so you’re free to adapt them as you wish.

The actual creative process of adaptation is its own unique form of screenwriting, and I’m simply not equipped to describe it fully. Having done two adaptations, I can tell you that it is essential to somehow carry with you a deep love and respect and total understanding of the material…as well as a simultaneous fearlessness to adapt and change it.

To me, the best adaptations aren’t the slavish ones, but the ones that alchemically transfer the heart and soul of the original material into a brand new work of art.

Read the novel “Out of Sight” and then watch the movie of Scott Frank’s screenplay. It’s a master class in how to adapt with soul.

Walsh/Boyens/Jackson’s adaptation of The Lord Of The Rings is another wonderful example of how to choose, omit and change and yet enhance the heart of the work, rather than diminish it.

Remember….love and fearlessness.

Q: I recently signed up for a screenwriting class. On our first day of class, myself and the other students eagerly asked our new teacher how many screenplays he had gotten optioned. His answer was long-winded and round-about, but basically amounted to: zero. So we asked him who his agent was, and he said he wasn’t represented, but didn’t need to be, because he was on a “first-name basis” with so-and-so big-name celebrities, who had agreed to “read anything I send them”. At that point, I started becoming concerned that perhaps I was not getting a quality education for my money.

Is this a legit thing? Is being able to say “I know four big wigs in Hollywood on a first-name basis” as good as being able to say, “I have optioned four screenplays” in the screenwriting world? Are all screenwriting teachers probably going to be people who have not actually sold screenplays (because presumably the people who are selling all the screenplays don’t need to teach to support themselves)? If you were me, would you drop the class and get your money back?

A: No, yes, don’t know.

I have a very dim view of the entire screenwriting “cottage industry” out there.

I think I’ll coin a word.

Paraliterary

These people are all paraliterary. They exist on the fringe, selling “secrets” and teaching lessons and dealing in confidence, but of course they’d be gone in a moment if they could sell a script or work as a screenwriter.

Mostly.

I do believe that some people are really good at teaching and guiding. We see this in sports all the time. Casey Stengel was a pretty mediocre baseball player, but a great manager. Teaching is its own art, so if you’re learning things that make you a better writer, than the class is worth it.

I am extremely suspicious, however, of anyone who starts featherbedding their resume by talking about how “connected” they are. This is a bad sign.

My only advice here is this: if you think the class is helping your writing, stick with it. If you think it’s a waste of time, dump it.

Just remember, folks, professional screenwriting really is a lot like professional sports. Most of you will never be able to hit a 95 MPH two-seamer no matter how much training you get…and the sad statistics are than most of you will not be able to maintain a career as a screenwriter either. It’s hard. Take help where you can find it, but keep a watchful eye out for the paraliterary.

They want your money.

Q: I’m writing from Canada (go hockey!), and I have queried four agencies up here that rep TV writers. They all said “We are simply not expanding our roster. Do not send us anything.” So… now what? Is that a January thing? Is that a test to see how determined I am? What would be a reasonable length of time to re-contact them? Any advice on approaching production companies (in Canada) this spring without an agent? Am I kidding myself?

A: No, no, don’t bother, some, no.

I’m enjoying this multipart question trend.

Many agencies will not take on clients who don’t already have agents. They’re either full, or they don’t want to break in new writers, or they’re over-committed already, and can barely keep up with the clients they have…and are perhaps considering dropping a few, much less taking on additional ones.

You have to try and find a way in beyond the cold-call of a query letter. You need a friend, a lawyer, a manager, a someone. Once you get that, you need material that will impress.

Remember, if writing is your Plan A and what you’re doing while you’re waiting is your Plan B, make your Plan B your Plan A and your Plan A your Plan B. Find a job somewhere in the business and do it really well. This is the best way to get yourself into a position where you can be read by people who can help matchmake you with an agent.

Q: Is R. Kosberg’s Moviepitch a ripoff or is it worth while to send him ideas?

A: If you’re using this, you’re not a writer.

I’ve spoken with Robert a few times. He’s a very nice guy, he really is known by everyone in town, and he really does sell things every now and again. He’s a legitimate producer, and he certainly has made a living pitching ideas.

What he’s not is a writer. He’s a producer. That’s what some producers (not the full kind, but some) do: they come up with ideas for movies or they find ideas for movies, and they set them up. Writers like me then come along and write the script.

Guess who gets paid more on that project?

(hint…I do)

The reason Robert is a success is that he deals in volume, and more power to him! If he sets up twelve projects a year and just two get made, he’s probably into the seven figures.

So…should you be using him as a broker? Yes…if you can’t write the script of your idea. In that case, you’re a producer looking for another producer to help you. If you’re a writer, then write the damned script! A great script will be found. A great script will make you a lot of money. A great script will launch your career.

Setting up ideas is silly if you’re a writer…unless you’re doing it yourself in order to write the script (i.e. a pitch). In this case, it sounds like Robert’s getting you option money for your idea, but you’re not going to write the script, because who the hell wants to bother with you?

If you were a writer…you would have already written it, right?

Hmmm…I have a few more questions stored up, but I’m not gonna answer them right away. Gotta have something saved up for another lazy day.

Next up, I’m going to take on “clams.” If you read Jane Espenson’s blog, you know what I’m talking about….

32 Comments »

Isn’t it more fun this way? Instead of answering readers’ questions with the frequency of NBA field goals, I like to pace myself like a soccer game. Vast stretches of time go by, and then suddenly, something almost sort of happens.

Then another aeon passes…

Let’s do this.

At what point does a character deserve a name? If he speaks? If she is mentioned by other characters? Obviously some characters need to be kept anonymous, like the Cigarette Smoking Man in The X-Files.

Well, characters deserve names if you think the audience will ever need to know their name. Odd Job never speaks, but he certainly required a name.

I tend to go with the standard Reporter #1 and Reporter #2 if I’m writing a press conference scene or something like that. I’ll give a character a name if someone else needs to refer to him or if his name is going to appear in writing somewhere in the film.

Sometimes we give our characters names because there’s nothing else that will do. I wrote a script in which a man uses an invention to bring his dead wife’s possessions to life. They assembled themselves into a facsimile of her, and he falls in love with this facsimile. This facsimile doesn’t speak, but I refer to it/her a lot in the action paragraphs. What do you call that character? “Dead Wife’s Stuff” didn’t fit the tone of the drama, and “Facsimile” is pretty clinical. I went with “The Figure.”

Next up…

i’m a produced screenwriter currently working on my second studio project. i’ve been working with a “sounding board” for a couple of years: a close friend and extremely bright dramaturgical mind.

my “sounding board” isn’t exactly a co-writer, per se, as much as he is…well, herein lies my problem. i’m not exactly sure how to credit him, and i’m not exactly sure how to compensate him.

Oh, email, you killer of capitalization…

The questioner goes on to basically say that the sounding board doesn’t really put the words down on paper. Rather, he’s a…well…he’s a sounding board.

The credit you’re looking for here is “producer.” I use sounding boards all the time. I’m writing a screenplay right now, and I have two producers (other than myself), an associate producer and a writing assistant in the room, and I use them all as sounding boards. Everyone talks about the story, everyone talks about the jokes, but I’m the one who is writing the treatment, and I’m the one who is writing the script.

Creating literary material = writing. Talking about what to put in literary material = developing and producing.

Obviously if someone is taking dictation, that’s a different story.

Our next question comes from Australia.

I would like to thank Ted Elliot, Terry Rossio and Craig Mazin for writing and coming up with such stories that have inspired and introduced millions of young film-loving teenagers to worlds uninhabited before!! You give us hope and show us that having an imagination isn’t wrong!!

Right, that’s not the question yet, but ummmm, okay, maybe Ted’s done all that…..but me?

Besides, I’m only in this to crush people’s hopes.

I must redouble my efforts.

Anyway, to continue…

I’m a 16 year old high school student from Australia who, after completing a professional scriptwriting course, began writing screenplays at the age of 14. After watching Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl I was moved to write my own pirate screenplay. And now, because of this script, I have an agent and an editor in New York and LA representing me as a screenwriter.

And that sound you’re hearing right now is the jealous grinding of thousands of sets of middle-aged teeth…

As a professional, do you have any advice on a young screenwriter and film devotee like me? Are you currently providing mentorship, or will you ever consider it?

My advice is to keep doing whatever you’re doing, I suppose. I mean, you’re 16 and you’re writing screenplays and getting yourself some form of representation. Have lawyers vet everything before you sign stuff, be aware that your age necessarily means you’re naive (so presume people’s motives will be selfish and possibly predatory), and above all, don’t burn yourself out. Be young, enjoy your teen years, and find a fun balance for your ambition.

As for mentoring, you don’t want me as a mentor. Honestly. What you should be looking for is a benefactor.

Right. Moving along…

Why are television staff writers credited as Producers (co-, co-executive, consulting producer, etc.), instead of ‘Writer’ or ‘Head Writer’?

Excellent question!

Remember that bit above about how creating literary material is what a writer does, and how the non-literary developing and so forth is what a producer does?

Well there you go. In television, there are writers who write scripts. Many of those writers also do things like hire and fire other writers, make creative decisions about sets, cast, schedule and budget. They also consult on the stories that other writers are writing for the show.

They’re hyphenates. Sometimes they write, sometimes they produce. The important distinction is that writing is writing, and producing is producing. This arrangement tends to work in favor of non-producing writers by protecting us from credit grabs by non-writing producers.

Excelsior…

Is a one-line enough to find out if there is an agent, manager or producer interested?

By “one-line,” the questioner means a very short logline.

Depends on the logline.

“A city bus full of passengers has been rigged with a bomb, and if the bus’ speed drops below 50mph for even an instant, the bomb will go off.”

That’s pretty good. Certainly leads one to think about the various possibilities and complications.

If your logline is high concept, then sure, the shorter the better in query letters, I think. If it’s not, then you might want to write a brief (VERY brief) bit about the themes the story explores, or anything that you believe will intrigue the potential producer or agent.

More?

Sure.

Okay, what if you write this awesome script, a big name company options it, and you have the top five agencies and Paradigm knocking at your door?

Who would (did) you choose and why?

Can you breakdown the plus and minuses of said agencies?

What if you have a VP of one of the top five calling you saying he wants to represent you? Do you think it’s a scam?

What if you’re of an age (say 25) when your brain is about to explode from a shit load of attention and you have no idea what to do? Do you shoot yourself? Or do you email a screenwriting guru for advice?

All those guys who were jealously grinding their teeth are now muttering quietly and staring at you as they polish their handguns…

I’m not going to go too deeply into my views on the agencies, because I have to do business with all of them, so why screw myself? Suffice it to say that while the agent and the agency are important, it’s the individual agent you’ll be talking to and forming a true relationship with.

When it comes to the sudden attention that Hollywood success can bring, my best advice is to stay as humble as possible. It’s prudent for a few reasons. Obviously, people are inclined to blow smoke up your ass, but more importantly, staying humble only makes them want you more.

The grounded, self-rewarding, self-disciplining writers seem to forge careers that last decades.

The exciting blowhards come and go.

Don’t get crazy, be yourself, understand that anyone who works with you will never be as good a friend to you as someone who doesn’t, and above all, even while you’re being humble and grounded and prudent…

…enjoy the hell out your success.

Okay, now, since we had a good question from Australia, why not try another one?

Hi, I am a scriptwriter from Australia. I love your view here on the role of the scriptwriter. But I have a quick question. I was given the job of scriptwriter for a tv show. Upon creating the first draft, I handed my script over to the producers. They ended up changing alot of my words and twisting the story around, adding things here and there. It lost alot of context. I was wondering, is this common in the industry?

It’s pretty rare in Hollywood. I would say an experience like yours happens maybe only, say, a hundred times a second.

Every day.

Including Christmas.

Welcome to professional writing.

Here’s one I really liked…

A friend of mine is a writer whose work has been lucky/funny enough to make it to the big screen. The sequel has been greenlit and he just shot me an email letting me know that he’s signed on as the director! I am an aspiring screenwriter and I understand how valuable it is to be on set and get a bird’s eye view of the process. So my question is this: What job should I beg him for??!! I’ve got no on-set experience.

Good for you! This is exactly the way aspiring screenwriters ought to be going about things. The more set experience you have, the better you will be at writing material that’s intended to be shot on a set.

Since you have no experience, I suggest you beg for a job as a production assistant, or P.A. The P.A. gig is the classic rite of passage for anyone interested in set work. You’re a gopher, basically. You fetch things, you find people, you make copies, you close the stage door when the camera’s rolling…

…and you’re there for every minute of every day of shooting.

Don’t expect much in the way of money or prestige, but do enjoy the learning experience. In the inevitable moments of boredom, you’ll be able to ask questions of anyone not immediately occupied with their job, and most crew folk are happy to talk about the ins and outs of what they do, as long as you’re not annoying about it.

Good luck!

All right, enough Aussies. Let’s go to London…

“Ultimately want to be part of (in a full-time staffer on the team) a great US TV Comedy/Dramedy series, as a writer based in the UK, what’s the best way to achieve this? Spec Scripts and Hot shot Agent? Pitch a Pilot? Hitch out to LA and spend many lean and hungry years trying to make contacts until I’m bankrupt and bitter?

Also, how can I make the whole green card thing go through quickly and smoothly, do I have to sort it all out? Will a decent Agent do that for you? Or does a/the network/production company do this?

First, yeah, hitching to L.A. is going to be almost assuredly required. Bankruptcy and bitterness are optional, but quite possible…bordering on probable.

The work permit situation is very sticky (going through it now with someone I want to bring down to L.A. from Canada), so rather than give you questionable advice, I suggest you speak to a local immigration lawyer.

Here’s a question about craft, specifically, how to write those movie moments that make the audience cry…

I want to know what techniques an experienced writer could identify that clearly has this effect on an audience. What kind of twist or action or moment must occur in your plot that “guarantees” to really drive the reaction on home? Apparently some people out there know the secret.

Boy, are you asking the wrong guy.

Ted told me once that someone told him (can’t remember who) that people tend to cry when they’re watching actors who are trying not to cry, and that makes sense.

To me, the best cry-your-eyes-out moment I’ve ever seen is in Field Of Dreams (written and directed by Phil Alden Robinson), when Ray Kinsella, seeing the ghost of his dead father, asks, “Hey Dad? Wanna have a catch?”

I’m tearing up just writing the line.

Am I crying because a son, guilty for rejecting of his father, has a chance to make good? Sort of. Or is it because he hasn’t seen his father in so long, and now he’s a father, and he finally understands him? Maybe. Or is it because anyone, confronted with the youthful ghost of a parent they had only known as old and embittered, would be overcome with emotion? Perhaps.

But I suspect the real reason I cry every time I see that scene is that Ray asks, hopefully and plaintively, “You wanna have a catch?” Those words are so soaked in the emotional tar that binds fathers and sons, no thinking or planning or deciphering by the audience is required. The moment cuts past the frontal lobe and hits us in our child brain, our animal brain. It pokes at our neediness for the love of our fathers, and it reminds us how transcendental it was to receive that love…and to receive it in a way that made us feel we were like our fathers.

It does it so cleanly and elegantly, without any trappings or confusion.

It’s perfectly real.

So here’s the advice from the guy who writes spoof movies: if you want to make an audience cry, create a circumstance in which it’s reasonable for a character to be overcome with emotion, and then craft a moment that goes past the reasons and into the subconscious.

Whoo. That was heavy. Shall I transition to a dry question about credits?

if a script of a tv series in a non us contry is sold for remake in the U.S., what is the credit the original writer is intitled to? shuld the credit be on the opening credits or in the end credits? is the original writer intitled to any royalties in the us?

Easy on the questioner. His English is better than my Hindi.

The answer is that the original script becomes source material and is eligible for a “based on a screenplay by” credit. This credit does not confer royalties or residuals.

And lastly, at long lastly…let’s end with a question about porn.

As a member of the WGA am I in any way regulated to selling a certain style of script? Such as screenplays for pornographic films? In other words is there any kind of regulation on the kind of material that can be presented in the screenplay?

The WGA only regulates to whom you can sell work. You can only work for signatories to the collective bargaining agreement in work areas covered by the WGA (primetime television, live-action motion pictures). What you choose to put in your screenplay is entirely up to you.

If you want to write tentpole pictures…

14 Comments »

A: It depends where you are when you write.

The Artful Writer is visited most frequently by Americans, but we do get a fairly good-sized international readership as well. There are lots of you from Canada, The Netherlands, Australia, Great Britain, New Zealand, Finland, Hong Kong…

…well, you’re pretty much from everywhere. Even Latvia.

Many of you have a similar question: if you sell a screenplay to a WGA signatory company, must you join the Guild? Embarrassingly, I’ve gotten the answer to this one wrong in a number of ways, and I’ve spread a bit of bad info in the past, so this post will hopefully set the record straight.

The determining factor when it comes to non-U.S. citizens is location.

The WGA is mostly concerned with jurisdiction, rather than prior membership or national citizenship. Regardless of what your passport says, if you perform the majority of writing services for a signatory while you are in the United States, then you must join the WGA if you’re not already a member, and the work is covered under our Minimum Basic Agreement.

However, if you live in the UK, you may work for a signatory to the WGA without the work being covered under our agreement. The WGA cannot compel you to join or compel the company to abide by the WGA’s collective bargaining agreement. However, you can negotiate to be treated as if you were under WGA jurisdiction! In other words, you can live in England, write a movie for Paramount Pictures from your home in London, and still get residuals and credit protection…but only if you get Paramount to agree to that deal.

If you hop on a jet and fly to New York, hole yourself up in a hotel and write the movie from midtown, then Paramount has to abide by the terms of the MBA.

The one final point to consider is that WGA membership isn’t really something you ever have to worry about choosing. If you meet the terms of membership through the appropriate amount of actual covered work, the WGA compels your membership. If you don’t, then you can’t join anyway.

For those of you writing outside of the United States, if you do sell or option literary material to any company that is a signatory to the WGA, try and negotiate yourself as if terms. The work won’t be officially covered by our MBA, but it’s well worth trying to get some of the goodies that those of us doing covered work get automatically. The company can certainly say “no”, but since they give those terms to thousands of other writers in the U.S. as a matter of course, you may find that they might be willing to bend a little…and give them to you too.

(Ed. Note: This is the last reprint. I’ll be back around January 6th or 7th with a new article.)

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A: No. You need to show that you can make the agent money.

A reader was talking with another writer who told him that A-list agents need to see three spec screenplays before they’ll agree to rep you. Why three? They need proof that you have range.

This is baloney.

Well, to be more precise, it’s a white lie. Agents ask for “range” because what they’ve seen isn’t impressive enough, and by “impressive” I mean “potentially lucrative.”

The only range one needs to be concerned with is the range of one’s talent. If you write a screenplay that an agent or producer reads and loves, then they will immediately attempt to exploit both you and the screenplay to their advantage.

There’s no formula, no magic number, no magical “range” required. Frankly, the notion is absurd on its face, because the first thing that happens to you after you sell a screenplay is an industry-wide pigeon-holing of you, your writing and your career.

There are writers who have different speeds, although it’s exceedingly rare to find a writer who is good at comedy and any other genre at the same time (they’re out there, but like I said…rare). Similarly, agents have a hard time selling writers who aren’t marketable, and marketability almost requires a reductive viewpoint.

My own range is rather narrow. I’ve written broad comedy, spoof, romantic comedy, whimsical dramedy…

Everything’s got an “medy” in it, though. I was hired once to write on a horror film. I didn’t want to do it. I was asked pleadingly and was paid well, so I did it with full disclaimers.

I really shouldn’t write horror movies, as it turns out.

I don’t think I’m bad at it per se, but it’s not what I love. I bring nothing special to it. Mere competence, or even just a high percentile of ability compared to the general population, is hardly a recommendation to a genre.

People tend to cling to formulaic rules or guidelines when attempting to navigate difficult challenges. I don’t blame them. Getting an agent can be difficult. Unfortunately, there’s no secret. You can write a script in every genre, but you’ll still be lagging behind the guy with one great screenplay.

This doesn’t mean you have to cling to one genre either. Most every writer I know has at least two facets to his writing. Sometimes more. And maybe you’re one of those rare renaissance writers who has what someone else might objectively deem “range.”

It’s all incidental to talent, passion and hard work.

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A: Failure Is An Orphan.

The emailer asks a question that deserves a serious answer, although theoretically it should be obvious.

Screenwriters are supposed to be in charge of the story of the movie. Screenwriters, therefore, should be responsible for the quality of the story, and screenwriters should receive the praise or the blame for the story.

Doesn’t work like that. First of all, which screenwriter? The credited screenwriter? The uncredited screenwriter? Moving beyond that, screenwriters are employees of production companies. Those companies often ask the screenwriter to make changes, deletions or additions that the screenwriter warns them against. They may occur regardless.

Then there’s the editors. A screenwriter can write a screenplay, a director can cast and direct the film of the screenplay, and an editor can take the footage and create a different story than anyone intended. I’m presuming, of course, that the director is just one person, but that’s not always the case. Anyone interested in film should take the time to watch Exorcist: The Beginning and Dominion: Prequel to the Exorcist. Both films originated from a story by William Wisher and Caleb Carr. The movie was first shot by Paul Schraeder. The studio, unhappy with Schraeder’s film, then hired Alexi Hawley to do extensive rewrites and hired Renny Harlin to direct large amounts of new footage.

The two movies are similar but dissimilar. They have overlapping footage, common story points, but they also have widely divergent footage and divergent story points.

It’s absolutely fascinating to watch both films. It’s the only instance I can think of where we, the audience, get to see the rewrite process in film form. Why is this so rare? Because it’s absurdly expensive to reshoot half of a movie with a new director. Nonetheless, by watching these two movies and seeing how similar footage serves the story in different ways, you quickly get a sense of how editing, pacing and style can affect how one experiences a story.

In the final analysis, however, directors are typically made responsible for the film’s quality. This responsibility and the authority that goes with it may not be justified, but at the very least, they’re commensurate. There’s a truism in Hollywood: when a movie flops, the director suffers but the writer doesn’t.

For better or worse, the industry views the writer’s goal as writing a script that justifies the green light. The director’s job is to make a successful film. And so, the director typically gets blamed for the story of the movie, but the writer skates away happily.

A lot of writers like this. I don’t.

Because I want writers to be filmmaking partners with directors, and because I want the job of the screenwriter to be understood as “write a movie”, I want writers to shoulder some of the burden. I want writers to share equally in the praise and blame. We deserve it, frankly. Mind you, I’m not talking about film critic reviews, which routinely blame screenwriters when things are bad and ignore them when things are good. No one cares about critics. Seriously. No one. I’m talking about the business, where success has a thousand mothers and failure is an orphan. If we’re partners and the film fails, we have to own that with the director.

But if it succeeds…

26 Comments »

With all of the bloodletting and debate and…I’m sure the Germans have a better word for what we’ve been doing here lately (olsonschauung?)…I had managed to fall tragically behind on a bunch of questions our readers have emailed. And so, let’s play Q&A…

When you approach writing a screenplay do you flush out a detailed backstory with character descriptions and several plot and sub-plotlines, or do you just plunge right into writing the script?

I think I answer safely for both Ted and myself when I say that neither of us are plungers. I am a huge believer in conceiving a story separate from the screenplay, and then writing the screenplay of the story. So yes, I have always thought first about the elements of story: character, narrative, theme.

Forgive me for coming late to the discussion, but I followed the talk about rewrites from the May 14 link. I have a question.

Why not hire writers for a period of time?

Say a studio hires a writer to do rewrites for six weeks instead of two drafts of rewrites. If the studio wants more work done, then they have to extend that contract. Writers would get paid for all their re-writing, because it would all fall under the contract. It may be a lot of work during that time frame, but it would be finite and have a discrete dollar figure attached to the work. And there would be no real way to do a free re-write once the contract starts (although before the contract is a different story) It seems like this is a sensible way to work, so why isn’t it done?

It is a sensible way for some writers to work in some situations, and it is done. The WGA MBA allows for writers to be employed on a term basis, as long as the compensation per week is no less than the weekly minimum set by MBA.

Professional writers tend to be employed on a term basis in one of two situations. The first is the weekly. I only take weekly assignments on projects that are either in production or getting close to production. This is the sort of work people often describe as “script doctoring.” A full draft isn’t required. A polish isn’t required. Typically, one or two weeks is all it takes to get the job done.

The second situation is the all-services deal. I almost always seek to make an all-services deal if I’m going to be following a movie through preproduction, production and post-production. Neither I nor the studio wants to engage in endless negotiations. We all agree that I should be working on the project until the final reels ship. As such, I negotiate one lump sum to cover all of my writing services on the project until it’s done.

Okay, here’s a multiparter from a reader in Canada…

1. If an actor is a SAG member and he works in Montreal, which union has jurisdiction – ACTRA or SAG?

2. If an actor is an ACTRA, SAG or Equity member and he is invited to work on a non-union film in – let’s say, India – can he do so? Is a waiver the only way? And in your experience, would shooting in an *emerging* nation be grounds for a waiver to work with non-union producers?

3. Would you kindly share some insight with me on the relationship between producers who do not wish to sign with a union and union actors? Are there ways around the system for a producer?

4. And lastly, in today’s co-production, cross-country world, where does the non-union producer find him/herself when faced with dual or trebled-union actors?

Although I don’t have anything to do with SAG or ACTRA (in this case, ACTRA refers to the Alliance of Canadian Cinema, Television and Radio Artists, not the crappy Gillette razor), most unions in North America follow uniform rules derived from U.S. and Canadian labor law.

Answer #1…it depends on where the actor lives. If the actor lives in the U.S., then SAG will cover the Montreal employment. If the actor lives in Canada, then ACTRA covers the job…even if the actor is a member of SAG. This appears to be the result of an agreement between the two unions.

Answer #2…no. A few years ago, SAG expanded one of its working rules to forbid any members from working for any non-signatory…even in places outside of SAG’s legal jurisdiction (like India). It’s called Global Rule One, and it goes a little something like this: No member shall work as a performer or make an agreement to work as a performer for any producer who has not executed a basic minimum agreement with the Guild which is in full force and effect.

Now, honestly, I don’t think that’s really enforceable. I mean, if I’m a SAG actor in L.A., and someone wants me to star in a non-SAG movie in Mumbai, SAG can threaten me with fines or something, but for what…taking employment in a work area they don’t cover? I don’t think so. Just my opinion. On the other hand, working union is always preferable to not. Always.

Answer #3…there shouldn’t be any relationship between union writers and non-union producers. Assuming the work is in a covered area (so not Mumbai, but yes Burbank), WGA writers are forbidden from working for non-sigs (and this is enforceable). Producers can try and get around these restrictions, but it’s difficult for them, and generally speaking, they act in good faith. Generally. The vast majority of live-action major motion picture releases are the result of WGA writers working for signatory employers.

Answer #4…in trouble. Probably best to stop being a non-union producer, and do what’s necessary to become signatory to the major creative guilds. Not only do you get access to the world’s most talented and desirable pool of writers, directors, actors, editors and cinematographers, but you also make a choice to adhere to a fair code of employment. It’s worth it for selfish and selfless reasons alike.

Okay, last question. It’s a fun one.

At what point does a character deserve a name? If he speaks? If she is mentioned by other characters? Obviously some characters need to be kept anonymous, like the Cigarette Smoking Man in The X-Files.

That’s a really good question. I almost never give a character a name if he doesn’t speak AND if no one else needs to refer to him by name. Sometimes, even if a character speaks, I still won’t give them a name, because their movie value is contained entirely in that one line (e.g. “I’ll have what she’s having”). So, yeah, I guess you sort of answered your own question. I mean, that kind of cuts to the heart of screenwriting, doesn’t it? We write for the screen, and anything that can’t be conveyed through film, even if silently, is detritus. If there’s no utility for a name, I won’t grant one. That doesn’t mean, however, that I won’t describe the character if his appearance is important. That’s how you end up with names like “Wrinkly Man” and “Angry Midget”.

David Zucker takes this principle one step further and identifies these nameless characters in the end credits by their lines of dialogue. For instance, instead of listing “Concerned Passerby” and the actor who played him, David will literally call the character “Hey! What Are You Doing?”

Makes sense, if you think about it.

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End of Act II?A: Not very.

This is one of those questions, the sort that get asked all the time and garner a different answer from practically anyone you ask.

On the other hand, I’ve been asked, and I’m right, so we can finally put this entire debate to rest, right?

Riiiiight?

I’ll settle for “maybe”.

The truth is that act breaks are highly overrated by most of the so-called screenwriting “instructors” out there precisely because they are easily teachable. Pedagogy requires some sort of orthodoxy. It’s not very useful for a student to hear that “act breaks” are conceptual points or moments or possibly sequences in a narrative that may or may not clearly occur twice, thrice or up to twelve times.

Seriously, how do you grade that?

So instead, screenwriting “instructors” teach that there are three acts. Or seven. Or five. They like to pick new numbers of acts to help brand themselves. Then they tell you on what page the act break must occur.

Hooey. Baloney. Argle-bargle. Go ahead…fill in your own Montgomery Burnsian exclamation of disgust. It’s all foofera.

Act breaks are the equivalent of scene blocking for directors or f-stops for cinematographers. They’re an internal tool to help you however you need them, but they’re never supposed to be noticed by the audience. There is no hard and fast rule. They simply help you organize your own story.

Writing a movie, after all, is a nifty bit of reverse engineering, if you think about it. You imagine a story, hopefully with some kind of gestalt (fancy word day here at the AW), and then set about recreating it as a series of elements. Those elements can be sequences or scenes or moments or pages or ideas. Up to you.

When you’re wrestling with this task, you may find that intermediate steps are helpful. You can conceive of your story in three large chunks…or perhaps two…or perhaps ten.

That’s your business. No one else (particularly the audience) gives a damn. They just want a good story without any seams showing.

This is actually one of the best parts of filmmaking. It’s not like writing a classical-era symphony with its strict number of four movements, a sonata followed by a slow movement followed by a minuet & trio and concluding with a rondo. We can follow traditional structures or blow them all to hell.

The truth is that just as paper covers rock, talent covers act breaks. Talent covers formatting. Talent covers the number of brads you have.

Don’t let anyone’s orthodox view of page counts and act breaks jam you up. It turns out that a lot of great screenplays can be seen, upon analysis, to have a certain act rhythm.

That doesn’t mean the great screenwriters who wrote them were concentrating on that.

29 Comments »

Adaptation?A: That’s a bit complicated for a quick answer.

But you’d think it would be easy, no?

I’ll start with what I think are the Academy rules, based on what the name of “Best Adapted Screenplay” used to be up until a few years ago. For a long time it was “Best Screenplay Based On Material Previously Produced Or Published”, and that pretty much says it all, right?

The Academy has an executive writers committee that meets to determine whether or not they feel a particular screenplay is an adapation. The WGA has far more rigid rules. It isn’t only concerned with prior publication or production. It is also concerned with unpublished and unproduced material of other natures that fall under the larger rubric of “source material”.

The WGA definition of an original screenplay is:

Original screenplays [are] those screenplays which are not based on source material and on which the first writer writes a screenplay without there being any other intervening literary material by another writer pertaining to the project. If a writer is furnished or uses research material, the screenplay is still considered an original screenplay.

Translation: no source material (discounting research material) and no other writer in between the start and completion of your draft. If that happens, it’s an original project.

Obviously, adaptations are therefore screenplays that are based, in any part, on source material. And what is source material?

…source material is material assigned to the writer which was previously published or exploited and upon which the writer’s work is to be based (e.g., a novel, a produced play or series of published articles), or any other material written outside of the Guild’s jurisdiction (e.g., literary material purchased from a non-professional writer). Illustrative examples of source material credits are: “From a Play by”, “From a Novel by”, “Based upon a Story by”, “From a series of articles by”, “Based upon a Screenplay by” or other appropriate wording indicating the form in which such source material is acquired. Research material is not considered source material.

Let’s go through that. First, there’s the obvious: published or exploited books, plays, essays, comics, etc. Interestingly, you can also include exploited story treatments by writers other than the first screenwriter. For instance, if John sells a treatment to a studio, and then George is hired to write the screenplay based on that treatment, the project is an adaptation because George has been given exploited literary material upon which to base his script.

Then, there’s the not-so-obvious. Let’s say John writes an original screenplay for a non-signatory company, i.e. a company whose dealings with writers isn’t covered by the WGA’s collective bargaining agreements, and then that company sells John’s script to a signatory studio like Disney. Disney then hires Sally to rewrite the script. If John had written that exact same script for a signatory, the project would be deemed an original. Since he wrote it for a non-sig, however, his script is considered source material, and John is not eligible for “story by” or “screenplay by” credit. The project is now considered an adaptation, with John’s screenplay functioning the way a book or play might.

That’s the one area where I imagine that the WGA and AMPAS might see things differently. From the WGA’s point of view, they must consider the non-sig script to be source material, because its ability to assign screenplay credit is entirely a function of its collective bargaining agreement, and the non-sig script doesn’t fall under that.

AMPAS, however, seems to be only concerned with what is, in actuality, an original or adaptation. In the example above, I think that the WGA would call John’s project an adapation, and AMPAS would call it an original.

This probably doesn’t come up too often.

The questioner specifically asked about Syriana, which AMPAS has apparently determined is an original rather than an adaptation. The WGA considers Syriana to be an adapation, because the screenplay was based (in some part) on a book. I believe the source material credit was “suggested by”, and that’s enough to make the script an adaptation. However, it appears the AMPAS writers committee felt that the script simply didn’t get enough of significance from the book, and thus they have deemed it an original screenplay.

25 Comments »

A: It depends where you are when you write.

The Artful Writer is visited most frequently by Americans, but we do get a fairly good-sized international readership as well. There are lots of you from Canada, The Netherlands, Australia, Great Britain, New Zealand, Finland, Hong Kong…

…well, you’re pretty much from everywhere. Even Latvia.

Many of you have a similar question: if you sell a screenplay to a WGA signatory company, must you join the Guild? Embarrassingly, I’ve gotten the answer to this one wrong in a number of ways, and I’ve spread a bit of bad info in the past, so this post will hopefully set the record straight.

The determining factor when it comes to non-U.S. citizens is location.

The WGA is mostly concerned with jurisdiction, rather than prior membership or national citizenship. Regardless of what your passport says, if you perform the majority of writing services for a signatory while you are in the United States, then you must join the WGA if you’re not already a member, and the work is covered under our Minimum Basic Agreement.

However, if you live in the UK, you may work for a signatory to the WGA without the work being covered under our agreement. The WGA cannot compel you to join or compel the company to abide by the WGA’s collective bargaining agreement. However, you can negotiate to be treated as if you were under WGA jurisdiction! In other words, you can live in England, write a movie for Paramount Pictures from your home in London, and still get residuals and credit protection…but only if you get Paramount to agree to that deal.

If you hop on a jet and fly to New York, hole yourself up in a hotel and write the movie from midtown, then Paramount has to abide by the terms of the MBA.

The one final point to consider is that WGA membership isn’t really something you ever have to worry about choosing. If you meet the terms of membership through the appropriate amount of actual covered work, the WGA compels your membership. If you don’t, then you can’t join anyway.

For those of you writing outside of the United States, if you do sell or option literary material to any company that is a signatory to the WGA, try and negotiate yourself as if terms. The work won’t be officially covered by our MBA, but it’s well worth trying to get some of the goodies that those of us doing covered work get automatically. The company can certainly say “no”, but since they give those terms to thousands of other writers in the U.S. as a matter of course, you may find that they might be willing to bend a little…and give them to you too.

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