Let's Be The Strong Ones
Writers and their self-esteem. Is there any light at the end of that tunnel?
Don’t get me wrong: I don’t think every screenwriter has an esteem problem. Nonetheless, the cult of victimology is humming along just fine. We’re “invisible”. “Forgotten”. Rewriters are “whores”. Studio executives trample our work. No one knows who we are. The faces of our greatest writers are unrecognizable to the public. We’re constantly being booted from our own works of authorship.
I’ll avoid the racist epithet, but you know what Lennon said about women and the world? Some would have you believe we’re the that of Hollywood.
Not me. I am not a victim, nor a whore. I do not define myself as abused, regardless of any abuse I may have suffered. I’m invisible to the public, but I don’t care. I’ve been booted from my own work of authorship, and I’m okay with that.
Am I a sociopath? No. I just don’t think “worst off” is a title worth pursuing. Besides, we have some stiff competition in our frantic race to the bottom. Actors. Directors. Agents. Producers.
You think we have it bad? Sit in a casting session for a few hours. Or spend years of your life clawing to get one of your unknown clients his first gig, only to have him turn around and ditch you for CAA. Direct a film, and then get locked out of the editing room…you know, the room where they’re chopping the crap out of the movie you shot.
Or how about this one? Be the president of a studio. Inherit a slate full of bombs. Do your damnedest to find and develop better material. Get fired because that slate of bombs was exactly as bad as you suspected, and then watch as your replacement takes credit for the movies you put into production.
Happens every day, folks. And yet, it’s the writers who seem to be complaining the loudest. Before the commenters run for the torches and pitchforks, I’ll readily agree that there’s plenty about the status of the writer in Hollywood that sucks. Even worse, it’s largely reparable.
Still, I’d like to think that one way out of this bind is to stop fighting with everyone else over the crumbs of esteem our industry occasionally disgorges. Any esteem worth a damn is self-generated rather than extracted through demands or shame.
Consider this: if you surveyed Americans and asked how many people knew who Ruben Studdard was, you’d get a number in the millions. If you asked how many knew who Scott Frank was, you’d get an answer in the thousands. And yet, Scott Frank has personally entertained far more people than Ruben Studdard ever will (and he’s done it far better, natch). I’d like to think that Scott Frank doesn’t give a crap if people know his name or his face. I’d like to think that Scott Frank’s self-image doesn’t come from his relative status to directors or producers or actors, but instead from his opinion of his own work. I’d like to think that Scott Frank doesn’t want Scott Frank to be famous; he wants his movies to be famous.
Does anyone honestly believe that writers like Scott suffer because they aren’t crying out for more respect, more attention, more validation? Is it this magical “esteem” that makes our work important and good…or have we, like so many Americans, flipped the causality here?
“Respect writers!” is a bugaboo. I didn’t become a screenwriter because I needed to fill an esteem void. I write because I want to entertain people. My sense of self-esteem comes from the knowledge that I do my best. It comes from supporting my family. It comes from my desire to learn and improve.
The last place it will ever come from is a studio, or an agent, or an actor or director. Doing things specifically to enhance our esteem is the weakest possible move. No one respects the beggar.
If we want to improve our standing in Hollywood, there’s really only one way to do it. Tomorrow, every writer wakes up and says and believes the following:
“I don’t care what anyone else thinks about me. I just care what they think about my writing.”
Just like that…esteem crisis solved. The agents will still fret over their clients, the directors will still worry that the producers will undermine them, the actors will still complain that they’re treated like pieces of meat, and the studio execs will forever be looking over their shoulder at the new kid who’s nipping at their heels.
But we’ll be calmly doing our job.
Of course, caring about your writing isn’t the same as writing well. Nor is caring about your writing ever going to change the fact that some readers have no taste. But hey, isn’t it always true that some of our best writing won’t get made? Didn’t we know this going in? Weren’t we aware that we couldn’t eliminate the existence of poor judgment and poorer treatment? The film industry is as predictable as weather, traffic, tumors and roulette—and I’m being charitable.
Still, we have an advantage. We are capable of creating without any antecedent work, without anyone else’s contributions. Ex scriptor. No one else in our business can make the same claim, but somehow we’re supposed to be the weak ones?
Let’s all sit shiva for a fair world that will respect us as writers simply because we write. We don’t need that crutch. We’re the strong ones.
AWESOME!!!
I too don’t care for fame… but having my movies be famous, one day let’s hope, is everything. That’s the immortality we all crave.
Bravo and hallelujah!
I just had this random thought…
This is Jerry McGuire’s Mission Statement… “less money, fewer clients…”
The precipitate to the great fall that is the birth of everything. Let’s enjoy the ride. Let’s be the strong ones.
If weakness is a vulnerability who’s to say pride, in both its extremes, isn’t a result of being proven continually underneath whatever quality might be expected from writers?
It’s rather easy to be perceived as strong minded, tougher to admit someone declares we aren’t since the advantage is theirs or a way to measure up to “some” esoteric personal (sometimes mutual) standards. Which by definition might not be shared by any or simply, two persons.
Just compare ugliness with relative beauty to get opinions instead of a limited scope (However precise, even rational enough) in tolerance or accuracy. Same process.
Have the wrong (or opposite) conviction and soon, surely, there’s a person ready to demolish it for a reason; “stronger” edge of personality. As sharp as jealousy itself.
All hail The Strong Ones!
Well said, C.
P
Bravo.
Personally I keep getting hired, while producers in my neighborhood keep going bankrupt. Writing’s just a lot safer profession, amazingly. It’s one of the few businesses where you have total flexibility — you can write anything the market wants — and if you make something good, it’ll get bought. Actors can’t change their looks. Hell, actors can’t even act unless someone hires them. Only writers can make something out of nothing. And there’s always plenty of nothing to go around.
This brings up another article I’d like to see at some point (if I’ve missed it, apologies), something addressing the inability or unwillingness of many (most??) writers to stand up for themselves and their work. I don’t have any problems saying no to unreasonable demands for free rewrites, for example, and while I understand the pressure facing writers in that situation (because, you know, I’ve felt it), I don’t have a lot of sympathy for those who cave to it, particularly the ones who then go on to complain that, gee, they did all the free work and they still got replaced and/or their film got made, but, wow, it sucked. Of course you’ll get replaced if you tacitly agree that your work isn’t good enough by rewriting it again and again for free, and of course your script will get written into suckiness if you don’t find some way to say no when things get out of hand.
Anyway, if that’s something worth an article, I’ll let you take it from there. :)
Ted and I have written a bunch about the free rewrite problem, but not here. You’re right, Denise. We need to get that discussion going ASAP, particularly since the Free Rewrite Committee has been meeting again.
A discussion specifically on free rewrites would be fine, but that’s not what I was asking for, as the only personal concern I have with free rewrites is that the WGA might be stepping in and causing problems where I currently have none. :)
My previous comment used free rewrites as a general example of the problem of writers who, to put it bluntly, need to grow a set. The problem of writers who are weak because they choose not to be strong, of writers who make bad decisions because they lack the spine to make good decisions and then cry that they’re victims. Writers who let producers—and their own reps—bully them into doing free work even when it’s financially crippling and the writer’s instinct is that the work being asked for will only damage the project. Writers who accept any and every offer regardless of the quality of the project and then wonder why they’re not taken seriously. Writers who understand that signing a check means they will get money but don’t seem to understand that signing a contract means they WON’T get a chance to stop their script from being rewritten by someone else or directed by a hack or buried on a shelf already teeming with unproduced scripts written by other writers who’ve sold their dreams to the wrong buyer. Writers who think nobody will like them if they say no but then are baffled when nobody respects them.
Saying no has its downsides, but so does saying yes, especially if your yes is predictable. I am perfectly capable of sympathizing with those who don’t have any power or leverage, but I have no sympathy at all for those who squander their power and then cry for protection.
/rant off.
Jeez, Denise, you pretty much wrote the article. :)
“Grow a set.” Indeed. Perhaps those who cry loudest for others to respect them are seeking to compensate for the lack of respect they show themselves?
Craig - I couldn’t agree more with your comments about this issue. I’ve been a writer for three years. Before that I was a television executive for eleven (full disclosure - I met Craig when he was an intern for me at the Fox Network, in the early nineties).
The simple truth about everybody in this town - even those who have reached the pinnacle in their respective fields - is that the demands of this business require a communal approach to what we do.
Think it’s hard being a writer and getting bad notes from a producer? It’s just as bad being a producer and getting shit on by the studio. It’s just as bad being a development executive who’s subjected to the vague whims of an egomanical boss. It’s just as bad being a wardrobe person with no latitude to dress the cast in the way he or she “sees it”.
I’m not discounting the fact that the work of a writer is singular and revealing, and that the process (i.e.; notes, feedback, etc.) is in itself inherently critical (notes sessions never focus on all the things that are “right” about a script, do they?). I’m simply saying that we all know this going into this career, so stop dwelling on the negatives and stay focused on the positives.
I know what it’s like being on the other side of the table…and let me tell you, it’s not a care-free, happy go-lucky existence. It’s its own brand of aggravation, even when things are going great.
I love being a writer, every day, even when it’s difficult. My worst day as a writer is still better than my best day as an executive.
Walk a mile in another man’s shoes…then tell me how bad it is to have a job with this kind of flexibility, compensation and creative satisfaction.
One last antidote: When I left my job (I was President of DreamWorks Television) after selling a spec script and announcing that I was finally, after many years of thinking about it, going to pursue my dream of writing for a living…I assumed that I’d receive phone calls from at least some of my many writer friends, congratulating me and welcoming me into the fold. After all, for six years at DreamWorks, I had been making multi-million dollar deals with writers, supporting them in every way possible, doing everything I could to get their shows on the air.
Do you know how many congratulatory calls I received from writers? One — Judd Apatow (a genuine class act, as those that know him can attest). I received several snarky calls from writers, who cracked jokes about my pending misfortunes (which were not funny to me, by the way, as I had a nine month old son at the time) and assumed postures of genuine disdain.
The congratulatory calls I received (several dozen) were mostly from executives (some of whom I didn’t even know). This was the group that was thrilled for me, expressed admiration and awe…and many of them - more than ten - revealed that they secretly harbored dreams of doing the same thing one day.
Do you get what I’m saying - executives admire writers. They want to be writers. They wish they were home writing, instead of returning their seventieth phone call of the day. Not all, of course…but many.
I agree with you, Craig. Writers should stop bitching about not getting respect - it’s naive, victimy and self-defeating.
Respect comes from within - not the other way around.
Great post, Dan — and belated congratulations.
We don’t know each other well enough for me to feel guilty about not calling you, but somebody once told me about your career shift (Mike Rosenfeld, maybe?) and I thought it was very cool.
Dan:
Welcome!
My very first foray into Hollywood was as Dan’s…what was the technical term…Xerox bitch?
Anyway, I learned more in those two months than I suspect I would have learned in four years of business school. Sure, the Herman’s Head spec script I wrote sucked (way to fucking pick’em, Craig), but that’s not the point. Learning how to write would come in time; learning how the business worked from the people who ran it was a major advantage for me right out of the gate.
The fact that someone like him has achieved success on our side of the aisle is a huge benefit to us all. I hope you keep spreading the wisdom on here, Dan. After all, it’s not every day a writer can respond to the question, “What do YOU know about what networks and studios want?” by saying, “Ummm, I ran a couple of them.”
Oh, and lest it gets lost in the comment shuffle, I wanted to pull one line of yours out and repeat it, because it really hit home for me.
Executives admire writers. They want to be writers.
Think about that, folks.
Howard - it’s been a while. I’ve been reading your comments on the site and am inspired by your point of view on the craft. Thanks for your insight.
Craig - it’s true man, I’m telling you. If only we all walked into meetings knowing how much the executives and producers on the other side of the table longed for the life that we’re leading, our sense of self-respect would rise immediately and immeasurably.
One of the issues we face as writers, is that we’re not just going into so-and-so’s office…we’re going onto the Sony lot to see someone with some title that sounds like they’ve descended from the mountain…but the reality is that they’re not the institution they work for. They may represent the institution, but they’re just an individual taking up space in an office that’s owned by the institution. They know as well as anybody that the lifespan of an executive career is precarious and limited…
..and the truth is that they want what we want - a hit movie/television show. At this particular time, we are the vehicle to delivering that. Sure they may have bad notes (I had millions of them during my executive career), but everybody’s in pursuit of the same goal. That’s not to excuse bad notes, but rather to diffuse the notion that anybody along the way actually INTENDS to derail the process.
Now personally, when I was an executive, I rarely minded when a writer disagreed with me…as long as it was thoughtful and respectful, and they articulated that they understood the point I was trying to make. I knew that we work in an imprecise business, and that ultimately I was dependent upon the writer’s vision…which is why I always wanted to work with writers who had a clear vision of what they wanted to do.
And that’s a big one, that I take from my days in the office - as a writer, have clarity of vision. Know the story that I want to tell, know the theme, the narrative, the characters, the tone…so that the executives will be dependent upon me, as the final screenplay authority.
Something you’ve preached here on the site, which is salient advice, for sure.
Dan. Wow. Sounds like your experience has not only bred many volumes of wisdom, but a healthy dose of humility.
A couple of posts back, Setiquette, there was a brief discussion of this humble attitude being the missing piece of the puzzle - the thing holding people back from being able to embrace the other side of the table as partners in the creative process rather than looking at them as a threat. I’m glad to see it’s there in at least a couple of people who get it. Very inspiring.
That whole “executives admire writers… they want to be writers,” bit really hit home. I submit that most people, myself included, would love to be paid for their words. I am a writer, yet I admire writers… if that makes sense.
For those of you that live that life, embrace it! I quit my job as an ad agency creative to pursue my writing career. I’m two years into the experiment (on the 15th of this month) and I can tell you that just living inside of story is far better than working on spots. I get 2 hours every morning before I come into the car dealership (how’s that for a stop gap career?) and a couple hours after my son goes to bed to emmerse myself in the world of my characters. One day, when it’s the better part of a business day, I won’t know what to do! Ah, the luxury! Right? The grass is always greener and the other guys shoes always look a little more comfortable. If only we could remember when, right? I hope my time in car sales breeds the humility you picked up in the executive world.
And maybe, one day once the dream comes true and the hard work and sacrifice pay off, I’ll have the chance to properly thank Craig for this amazing site (and you for a few words that kept me going). And you guys can welcome me to the party.
Craig & Trey,
I want to backup Trey’s comments here. I’m a well paid (by any standard save Wall Street Investment Banking) junior associate in NYC. Yet I’ve spent the past year or so working almost most Saturday and Sunday mornings on a script. I have no children, but I am married and work late during the week so that’s the only time I can write.
Reading your site has been, at times, like a cold splash of salt water reminding me that nothing is ever as good as one can imagine. And it has made me really think about why would I want to give up my job and become a writer?
It isn’t the fame (non-director writers seem to be only known by other writers) or the money (frankly, unless I was impossibly lucky or unbelievably skilled (and I’m neither), I’d probably make more as a lawyer in a lifetime). If I had to pin it down I might say that when I write I feel I have control over what I do. I set my hours, I write my plots as I see fit, I listen to criticsm but it is my choice what criticism to accept or reject. And at the end of the day, maybe I’ve added something interesting to the world. I’m not sure what I’m adding to the world in my current job.
And lo and behold, after that year plus, I now have my shot at the brass ring (well maybe just a tin or copper ring), a screenwriter’s assistant is going to forward my script to her boss—if he likes it who knows what could happen. If he hates it, I’ll have to move on to another script and try again in a year or so. Hopefully at least he has time to read it… But no matter what happens, I haven’t been this excited, nervous, scared and hopeful about “work” since—well, ever.
I like Dan McDermott’s comment: My worst day as a writer, is better than my best day as an executive. Writing this screenlay is the only work I’ve ever done that hasn’t feel like work—it’s been hard, harder mentally than anything else I can think of—but it isn’t work.
Writing has its downsides (do I really want to live in LA?), but the upsides have been pretty damn cool so far.
Anyway, I have rambled on far too long.
Cheers, Trev
Is this the same “Danny” McDermott that grew up in Rockville, MD? If so, email me at Scott@ddminsurance.com.