The Craft & Trade
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Archived posts from this Category
Via commenter Coltrane…
Recently, Amazon launched “Amazon Studios,” a strange mashup of contest/development/crowd-sourcing designed to help filmmakers “break in” by getting noticed, winning money and even having their movies released by Warner Brothers.
It’s a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad deal.
Well, let me amend that.
It’s a GREAT deal if your script stinks and your movie shouldn’t get made. Under those circumstances, someone’s reading your crap, maybe even helping you with your crap, and perhaps as a result of human fallibility, you might even get some money for your crap.
But if your script is GOOD? If you’re actually talented? If you have real potential as a writer, director or filmmaker?
Bad, bad, bad, bad deal.
How is it bad? Let us count the ways.
I can’t say it better than John August did, so I’ll just summarize. Works of authorship are special because they’re not crowd-sourced. It’s a ridiculous misapplication of new thinking. I like progress, but crowd-sourcing is a tool, and you need the right tool for the right job.
Here’s where Amazon kind of disgusts me. They put this whole “Hollywood is old and lame, and we’re the new hotness” vibe out there. In their intro video, their hip spokesman with the spiky haircut is an inclusive, welcoming voice. Hollywood is represented by a fat old Jew at a desk.
Funny thing, though. The actual terms of Amazon’s “studio” are so much worse than those offered by Hollywood studios, it’s grotesque.
First off, forget about unions. Amazon ain’t into it. Not the WGA, not the DGA.
Next, let’s talk about their option. When you submit material to Amazon–say, a script–they have an exclusive option on the script for 18 months. During that 18 months, they can do whatever they want with your script. They can change it, smash it together with other scripts… and of course, make a movie from it, or commission a book, or any other derivative work.
You know what else they get to do? They get to sell your material. They can sell your script to customers. If you submit a movie, they can sell that too. Oh, but that’s not just for 18 months.
That’s FOREVER. They have a permanent right to sell that stuff. After 18 months it’s not an exclusive right, but good luck competing with Amazon, friend-o.
And if you’re not American, you have to waive your droit moral anyway, so don’t think about gettin’ fancy with copyright, foreigners!
But okay… what do you GET for all of this?
You get nothing. The option is frickin’ FREE, and the upside is capped. In Hollywood, if you option a script, it’s hopefully for something. Even a dollar. But the good news is that if the script sells to a studio, the marketplace sets the ceiling. You could get a hundred grand… or four million dollars.
Not in Amazon-ville. In Amazon-ville, you option your script for NOTHING, and the option buy-out is $200K. And when you get that 200K, my brothers and sisters, Amazon owns that script lock-stock-and-barrel for ever, just the way a studio would.
Okay, okay, but what if they make the movie?
NO GUARANTEES. Not a dime. In fact, the only way you get a penny more is if the film grosses $60M in the U.S. (not North America, btw, which is standard for domestic B.O. calcuations). If it hits $60M, you get a bonus of $400K.
Let me put this as plainly as I can: if your screenplay was good enough to be distributed by Warner Brothers and subsequently sell enough tickets to hit $60M at the box office, YOU DID NOT NEED AMAZON, and YOU SHOULD HAVE MADE MORE THAN $600K.
But wait. It’s even worse than that.
CREDITS AND RESIDUALS AND HEALTH CARE AND PENSION
Zero, zero, zero and zero. Here’s what Amazon says about credits.
We will determine in our sole discretion your credit, if any, in any film or other work we develop or produce that arises out of the Property, taking into account the guidelines set forth in the WGA Basic Agreement. Our determinations of credit will be final. Notwithstanding the foregoing, the WGA Basic Agreement does not apply to this Option Agreement. We are not a signatory to the WGA Basic Agreement.In other words, we’ll tell YOU what the credits are gonna be, bub. Now piss off.
Residuals? None provided. Health care? Pension? None provided.
Bottom line? This deal is unfair to writers, and it’s an obvious end-run around the basic union protections we have in place for professionals in this business. If you take this deal, you are a sucker. Amazon may want to present themselves as a cool alternative to the closed-off crusty, regressive Hollywood model, but this is the movie business, folks.
Things aren’t what they seem.
If someone at Amazon reads this and thinks I’ve gotten the facts wrong, I’m more than happy to host a back-and-forth with them here. From where I’m sitting, the deal they’re offering looks awful.
One more thing.
Some of you might think, “Hey, another Hollywood jerk badmouthing one of the few alternative ways in that we have.” First, I maintain that if you’re good enough to succeed with Amazon Studios, you’re good enough to succeed without them.
Secondly, the “access” that Amazon is dangling in front of people isn’t free, or even cheap. It comes at the cost of a fair market price for your work, credit protections and residuals. It hollows out the core benefits that the WGA has fought for and won over the course of decades, and it does so glibly, as if a pension or credit for your work are old-school shizz that cool kids don’t bother with.
Amazon isn’t doing this because they give a damn about you or your access.
They’re doing it because it affords them unlimited upside with very limited downside. Perfect situation for a corporation.
Perfect situation to avoid for a writer.
This is kind of awesome. Essanay Studios made Chaplin films back in the day, and they actually used this slip when rejecting screenplays. They existed in various forms from 1907 to 1925, when they were absorbed by Warner Brothers.
I think they should bring this back, as long as they keep the snazzy font.
I just got back today from the Austin Film Festival. I had a terrific time, spoke on a bunch of panels, met lots of people and had an all-around kickass time.
I want to talk to you. You go to screenwriting conferences because you want to be a professional. You want to sell a script. You’re a student. You want to learn.
Good for you. Listening to and questioning the people who do the job you want is a smart move.
What is NOT a smart move is listening to the people who DON’T do the job. And who are they? Oh, you know who they are. They’re selling books. They’re selling seminars. They’re “script consultants.” And for a small fee, or a medium fee, or a goddamned flat-out ridiculous fee, they’ll coach you right into the big leagues!
Horseshit. Let me say it loudly and clearly: IF THEY WERE ANY GOOD, THEY WOULD BE DOING WHAT I DO, NOT DOING WHAT THEY DO.
Dig? Simple rule of thumb: don’t spend a dime on a book, a lesson, a seminar or advice if the person selling DOESN’T HAVE A REAL MOVIE CREDIT.
And just in case “real movie credit” is too vague, I’ll be clear about what I mean. One spec sale from 1994 that happened to get made ain’t enough. Don’t spend a dime unless the seller has worked, is working and is gonna BE working. Multiple credits. A hit or two would be nice. Or recent critical acclaim, like a script on the Black List. A recent spec sale, or a spate of new gigs. Awards and nominations never hurt…
Mind you, I’m not just going after the rinky-dink “who the hell are YOU?” types who print up “script consultant” business cards for $20 and then hand them out to suckers, as if they earned a degree or something.
I’m talking about the biggies too.
My friend Derek Haas was at a conference where Linda Seger was speaking. He wasn’t impressed. He wasn’t impressed with the quality of her advice, the relevance of her advice…or her references to Cagney & Lacey, as if anyone in 2010 would give a shit.
Linda Seger has an IMDB page. Check it out. When you’re done laughing at the posters of the movies she’s consulted on, head on back.
According to her website, she charges $1200 for a “script overview.” But if that’s not enough magic for you, she’ll take $5,000 to provide “script consultation from early draft into production.” Oh boy.
If you pay this lady or anyone like her a penny, I personally believe you’re a moron. Linda? Frickin’ genius, I guess. But you? Moron.
In a world full of advertising on urinals, or fees for checking a bag on a plane, there is still one thing left in this world that is free.
Screenwriting. Assuming someone is willing to lend you a pen and some paper, you’ve got all the materials you need between your ears.
Are some books useful? Marginally so, in my opinion. You’re far better off reading screenplays (lots of places on the internet to do that) and watching movies.
But if you really feel the need for more help than that, then ask yourself these questions before pulling out your wallet: “Is my guru any closer to being a professional screenwriter than I am? Has the author of this book written a movie anyone I know has enjoyed in theater? Is there even one example of someone in my position graduating this program and becoming a successful screenwriter?”
And then ask yourself the biggest question. “Why do I need this at all?”
Screenwriting is hard. The business is hard. As you flail around, doing everything you can to achieve your dream, you’re going to get frustrated and scared. When we get frustrated and scared, we attempt to exert control over the process. One way of fooling ourselves into thinking we have control over something is to give money to experts, who will help us get better.
That’s why Linda’s titles are so seductive. “Making a Good Script Great.” “Making a Good Writer Great.” See? You’re good, friend. You’re real good. You just need something else to be “great.” By spending money on a book…or more…you’ll exert control over the scary thing and win the day!
Or you won’t. Maybe you’ll just be someone else applying post-facto structural theories to your own work. It’s an amateur move, which is ironic, considering that avoiding amateurism is the reason you bought the book in the first place.
To be fair, I’m not suggesting the Segers and Trubys and McKees and Voglers of the world don’t have anything interesting or insightful to say. I’m just saying that you have to put all that stuff in perspective. In my heart, I truly believe that no successful writer who has read their books would have failed had they not.
Good writers are good writers, and bad writers are easy marks for control-peddlers.
If you want to spend a little dough on general advice, go to the Nashville Screenwriters Conference. Go to the Austin Film Festival. Listen to professionals.
If you want to spend a little dough on learning structure, go out and buy every Pixar movie ever made, including the shorts.
If you want to spend a little more, start going through the Criterion collection. Study the films. Study the scripts online. And then remember that the best possible instructor you could ever have is staring at you in the mirror.
$0 per session. Not a bad price. Start writing.
So here’s my excuse for not blogging in a long time.
For the past few months, I’ve been writing The Hangover Part II with Scot Armstrong and Todd Phillips. I’m not telling you anything about it, so don’t even ask. It’s more fun to see the movie not knowing anything anyway, right? All I’ll say is that Todd Phillips and the cast are doing an amazing job, and I’m incredibly proud to be a part of this film.
In a few hours, though, I’m leaving the set and getting on a plane for Austin. I’ll be speaking on a number of panels at the Austin Film Festival. If you’re a blog reader and you see me there, wave hi or something. I’ll be hanging around with John Lee Hancock, John August, Derek Haas & Michael Brandt, John Turman, Jeff Lowell and everyone’s favorite computerized special-needs screenwriter, The Robotard 8000.
On Thursday, I’m moderating/participating on a panel about the business of screenwriting, at 1 PM. At 2:45, I’m on another panel about how to take a meeting.
On Friday, I’ll be doing the screenwriters roundtable at 1:45 PM. And at 10:45 AM on Saturday, there’s a comedy screenwriters roundtable.
I’ve never been to Austin before, but this is one of the few screenwriterish festivals that looks good (I also do the Nashville Screenwriters Conference, which is terrific). Hopefully I’ll see some of you there.
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.
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.
It’s INT. LIBRARY – DAY
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.
…of all people.
Very relevant for our business, which has always struggled balancing chasing with leading.
Thanks to Phil Hay for sending it along.
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.
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.
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…
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.
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.
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.