The Answer Is Always "Yes"
I’m not a particularly controversial person, so you won’t see too many overtly unpopular essays on this site (“Puppies: Why They Should Be Beaten”), but maybe this one will get a few pulses racing.
If you’re a professional screenwriter and you’re asked to make a change that you think is awful, say “Yes.”
Always say yes.
Destroy the main character? “Yes!” Change that brilliant ending that brings everything full circle with a twist-and-a-half? “Sure!” If the producer or director has an idea that’s just god-awful, death-dealing, movie-wrecking, story-killing, your answer to the request should be a charming and pleasant “Okay!” Say it with pride. Alacrity, even.
Why? Because saying yes costs you nothing, and gains you much.
When I say, “yes,” I’m giving the following impression: “Dear employer or supervisor, I am surprisingly open to your suggestions. Even though you know that I’m better at this than you, I’m making you feel good by listening and taking you seriously. After all, it’s you who has the esteem problems regarding your own story sense. Not I. Besides, you might be right! And I’m not just saying that. Boy, I’m a productive employee with a good attitude!”
Good lord, what a suckup. There’s just one thing about that sycophantic monologue—it’s all true. Every last word.
Granted, when I first started writing I had a hard time dealing with what Dennis Palumbo calls “that sinking feeling”. The exec or director would make a truly terrible suggestion, and every ounce of my writerness was screaming for blood. Far from saying “yes,” I would instead concentrate on not-punching and not-cursing. Occasionally I’d work on not-flaying-alive and not-bludgeoning-you-with-your-own-femur-that-I-just-tore-out-of-your-leg-meat.
Emotionally rewarding for a brief moment, true, but hardly productive. Even worse, it’s noticeable. These things are always noticeable. Let’s face it—if we were better at acting, we’d act.
What I came to realize is that I wasn’t getting so mad because their ideas were bad. I was getting mad because I was afraid, and the fear was a result of my own lack of confidence. “What if they make me do this terrible idea?” was what I first thought the fear was about, but in time it became clear that the fear was more like, “What if I have to do this terrible idea because I cannot explain to them why it’s a terrible idea?”
I always say “yes,” because I believe I am the best story-teller in the room, so therefore I must fairly judge all ideas who appear in my court of story quality. I must dutifully examine why this person, a potential audience member like any other, might have thought this new idea would be better. I think about the ramifications. I think about the cost/benefit.
I’m the story expert. It’s what I’m supposed to do. We should not defend. We should evaluate. Defending is for the afraid. Evaluating is for the confident judge—a judge whose authority derives from his expertise.
Sometimes, I find pleasing ways to incorporate the suggestions; I haven’t pleased my employers as much as I’ve pleased myself, but their appreciation is a happy side-effect.
Sometimes, I determine after much thought that my first instinct (“This is a bad idea”) was correct. Then I come back to them—and here’s the real point of this whole damn thing—I tell them why.
They love this.
When I hired an interior decorater, I would occasionally make suggestions. Sometimes she’d do them. Sometimes she’d think for a while (that part’s crucial) and only then say, “No, I think it’s probably better if you did this, and here’s why.” It’s not the agreement that makes you feel like you’re getting your money’s worth from your employee. It’s the informed disagreement.
In my experience, this is precisely how producers view things. When I say “yes,” I’m not agreeing to be slavish. I’m simply agreeing to try. If I determine that their suggestion is not to be done, I can explain why. When you remove that initial “no,” you remove 99% of the hostility and disfunction from the writer-employer relationship while ceding 0% of your authority and power. And it’s funny. Ever since I began saying “yes” a few years back, two interesting things have come to pass.
I haven’t had to write anything I didn’t believe in…
…and no one’s fired me.
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Here's some great advice for any screenwriter... which seems like atrociously bad advice at first. If you're a professional screenwriter and you're asked to make a change that you think is awful, say "Yes." Always say yes. Destroy the mai... Read More
Ian says that this is good advice for screenwriters; I'd say it's good advice for software developers as well, and probably for anybody involved in doing creative work for a customer.... And no matter what the result is they know you've taken them...
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This is actually really horrible advice masquerading as wisdom. First off, smart people don’t get upset when you disagree, provided you have smart reasons. And in this business, you want to associate with smart people.
Meanwhile, stupid people are used to being agreed with and demand more and more agreement because they are… stupid. And ultimately, they hate your for agreeing with them, because they hate themselves.
Ultimately, a writer only has his own talent to sell himself. If he allows himself to be constantly watered down by others, he’s wasting his life, and won’t succeed. Because, again, the stupid people that just want to be agreed with are stupid. And make crappy movies.
And the smart people that like a good argument, and are willing to listen to other opinions make better movies.
Most of the time. (Unfortunately, not always. But why sell yourself out to fail by someone else’s taste?)
If Lawton disagrees, I usually know I’m close to the truth. Welcome, you magnificent SOB. Your attempt to start the “debate” part of this site is appreciated.
I should write something that will really piss you off. This one was too tepid. :)
C.
I posted this at WriterAction, where Craig’s essay was re-posted. It was suggested that I post it here as well.
J.F. -
I think you’re unfairly characterizing Craig’s post. He’s not saying “Make stupid changes whenever you’re asked.” He’s just saying that starting with “yes” is more productive than arguing immediately. If you’re going to argue, just go away and give it some thought first. Organize your arguments, understand their point of view, and come back.
I take your point about smart people and the importance of working with them. I agree. I’ve worked with really smart people, though, and no matter how smart they are, they don’t know your script as well as you do. They may make a “stupid” suggestion because they (despite their intelligence) haven’t worked through the implications of the suggestion. Usually, though, there’s a nugget of wisdom in there. They’re usually reacting to a real issue, even if their proposed “fix” is a terrible idea.
So I usually say “yes” and then come back, if necessary, and say “You have a valid point, but I don’t think your fix is going to work for these reasons. I think that the issue you’re trying to address is better dealt with this other way.” Usually that works.
I think the important caveat to Craig’s advice, though, is that it only works if everybody involved is making the same movie. If you’re caught in some sort of political game between sets of producers, or between the producer and the studio, no amount of “yessing” is going to work. If everybody’s on the same page creatively, even the dumbest note can be useful if dealt with appropriately. If everybody’s on different pages creatively, you can be getting notes from the smartest people in the world, and you’re still fucked.
I don’t agree with this advice… and I’ve never been fired. What I don’t do is say “No.” What I might say is “That’s an interesting thought, but here’s what will happen to the story if I do it,” or “I don’t think that’s a good idea, and here’s why,” or “Let me think about it.” But I never say yes to a note I have no intention of doing. But that’s if I’m writing a TV movie or a feature or a pilot.
On the other hand, if I am writing a freelance episode of a TV series, I might respond to a bad note by saying “if I do that, here’s how it will impact the story,” but I won’t press the point if the executive producer disagrees. I will always say “Yes.” I will always do the note, gladly and with no argument, no matter what. Why? Because your job on a TV series is to do what the showrunner wants. It’s his show, his characters, not yours. You are a carpenter. You have come to do a job in his house. Your job is to do what the customer wants to the very best of your ability.
Lee:
I guess I disagree with you only on one small point (or maybe it’s a big one): I never say “yes” with no intention of doing the note.
My intention is always to address the note. Furthermore, even if my initial response is exactly as you describe (that’s not a good idea, and here’s why), well, you know, that’s my initial response. It’s amazing how wildly my mind can change on this stuff from day to day.
So, Louise, this is why I’m not afraid of my secret getting out. It’s not a tactic as much as a belief system. :)
C.,
I thought you could use some help getting a debate started. Look, here?s my point, I?ve been in this business a little longer than you, and I?ve had a few more successes and a lot of big failures. In most cases, when a project failed (either by not getting made or by getting made badly) it was because I wasn?t willing to fight the right creative battles. When a project was successful, it wasn?t always exactly the way I wanted, but I know I put a lot of blood into getting it as good I hoped it could be.
Obviously, most people like it when you agree with them. And yes, too many writers refuse to consider good ideas just because they don?t want to do the work involved in making changes. Yes, many times I?ve agree to a suggestion I wasn?t sure about, and then found it was the best possible way to go.
But ultimately, if you have talent as a writer, that?s what you?re bringing to a table and you have to fight to get your work through the system. I know of many writers who have coasted along by being nice, and then wondered why they suddenly woke up and had no career. Didn?t everyone love them? Yes, but the movies they wrote sucked. But that wasn?t their fault, they did what they were told!
And I know other writers who are absolute assholes and fight about everything, and somehow keep working into old age. I?ve had horrible fights with executives and then been stunned when they came back to me with another project.
It is important when you disagree to be able to explain why, because generally there is a reason for the note, and you aren?t going to get your project made if you say no to everything.
My general rule is that if I?ve disagreed with three notes in a row, I have to agree with the fourth one to keep the peace. So I usually try to store up as much agreement as I can.
Dear Magnificent Bastard Who Wrote Pretty Woman:
Good comments. And thanks for stirring up shit…you know I love you for that. It’s also true that you’re older than I am. So much older. So very very old.
But you’re right. You do have more experience on this particular rollercoaster ride, and I absolutely cede your main point: if you don’t have talent there isn’t much you can do to prolong your career, and if you do have talent you can get away with all sorts of shit.
However, for those of us with talent (I include you in my talent club which is either good or bad news for both of us), there are still ways to manage how we approach our employers.
I think vocational karma is real. All things being equal, I think it’s best to be talented and open-minded, rather than talented and dismissive.
This brings to mind a good question: doesn’t ANYONE pay for being an asshole in this town???
First, your general idea of being open minded is an important one. But life is complicated, and so is the film business. So you have to figure out exactly how open minded to be. If you’re rejecting a suggestion just because you’re lazy, you won’t get far in this business. But likewise, if you agree to every suggestion just so people love you, you won’t get so far on that either.
Secondly, no. No one has to pay for being an asshole. That is one of the annoying things about Hollywood. You only pay for failure. And success always has friends.
J.F.
I do want to chime in to concede one point.
I have been accomodating Mr. Yes-Guy before, and I have seen it lead to an attitude on the part of producers that I can be pushed around and fucked without consequences.
I have also been combative and difficult while still being generally collaborative. Honestly, that seems to lead to more respect, with the important caveat that the script MUST turn out well.
I guess the real issue is passion. Producers and studios like passion. If you’re just a yes-man, then chances are they won’t respect you. If you consider their ideas carefully, agreeing and disagreeing with passion and conviction, they trust you more. It also fits with their prejudices about how creative people are supposed to be.
In my ocassional stints working for showrunners in TV, I found another reason to avoid saying ‘no’ to an ‘idea’. When you say no, or argue a point, that very point becomes fixed in the mind of the person who suggested it. They remember what you said no to far better than they remember what you said yes to. It can become a point of principle for them. You will find yourself rearguing this same note and the person you are working for will never forget the note. Ever. Ultimately then, you will have to execute it. And not in the smartest way you can think of to address the problem, but in the exact way you objected to. So I learned to say ‘yes’ or ‘interesting idea’ or ‘sure’ or ‘that’s doable’ and then later figure out a way to address the issue myself (or in some cases, not at all). And I found that if I didn’t object to the note up front, it never came back to bite me. If I did say ‘no’, it usually did.
Very interesting points, John T. I’ve always been the sort who will say no up front if that’s my honest response, but even then I would never, ever say no without explaining why. But as you say, even then, those notes tend to come back. However, I have found that often when the notes come back, the producers themselves have considered ways to make them work, and often things work out very well. I think Matt and JF are on the right track when they say that “no” is less grating when it’s obviously coming from a place of passion vs. an attitude of “What the fuck do you know?!” or “No, because I am the artist and I am not changing my vision.” I can’t really blame producers or executives from getting snit-knickered over that kind of “no.”
Denise -
I don’t know that there are many in this business who can tell discern whether a ‘no’ is coming from a “place of passion vs. an attitude of ‘what the fuck do you know?.” This isn’t to say these people are stupid but the resistance, the “no”, tends to trigger all sorts of issues in the reciever that obscure and make irrelevant any place it may be coming from on the part of the person saying it. It is nice to work with people who understand and aren’t threatened by a creative, passionate ‘no’, but less common than it should be. If you’re saying anything in the room from a place of “what the fuck do you know”, you’re either in trouble or the most important person in the room. I use the solitary car ride home to voice that sentiment…
JT:
Glad to see you here. I’m a big believer in speaking my freely in the car too. :)
John:
I should’ve been clearer. By a “what the fuck do you know?” no, I meant where a writer hears a comment, thinks for three seconds, then says, “NO!” By a “passionate” no, I meant where a writer says something like, “I love that idea on its face, but if we do that, the third act will have to be reconceived completely. I’m fine with that, but the third act is in great shape and I know you love it,” etc. Basically, a no that presents the reasons behind it so that the note-giver at least realizes it’s not simply the writer having better things to do than consider comments on his masterpiece.
Absolutely! Sounds great, Denise! Let me go off and work it through and get back to you!
I’m not shure how to take that. with a grain of salt I suppose. I do know. We tend to sum up all of lifes undoings as misfortune and negative virtue for all around us. Until faced with the truth of your fate. I as a man have brought alot of misfotune to myself, and deserved exactly what I got. what I put in.. someone out there will allways be better, stronger, ect. But for I am for once finding peace. with sorrow, and joy! I think time is short. with better constructive things to say and do. and you? scott nilson.