How To Pitch
I, too, am a Jew that can pitchMaybe if I had a resume like John August’s or Ted’s, I’d speak a little more glowingly about the work I do. I’m genuinely humble about my writing, and when I talk with guys like Scott Frank and see how humble they are, I feel even less entitled to acknowledge any theoretical writing laurels, much less rest on them.
I’m not so Christ-like about my ability to pitch. I’m proud of that. I’m good at it. And today, I’m going to do my best to teach you what I know.
I’ll probably regret this.
I’m proud of my ability to pitch because I enjoy anything in this business that feels like it exists in a clear continuum with the stuff of the Golden Age. Pitching is showmanship, hucksterism, theater, dance, psychology, chutzpah and good old fashion creativity…all rolled into ten minutes. The rooms are tough, the stakes are high, the odds are long…
Yup. I love it.
Ready?
First, ask yourself this question…and answer honestly.
Are you good in a room?
By “good in a room”, I mean, are you a good story-teller? Do you enjoy public speaking? At parties, can you grab the attention of a group by telling an anectdote or a joke? I’m not asking if you like parties or other human beings. God knows I don’t. I’m asking if you can work them, or if you end up being that quiet guy who listens to the guy who can work the room.
Are you the quiet guy? Not all is lost. I’ll deal with you in a bit. Ted and Terry have a great method for you.
Are you good in a room? Good.
First, understand what it is that you’re pitching. You’re not pitching a script. You’re not pitching a story.
You’re pitching a movie. Don’t give me that blank look. You’ve already done it. Ever see a movie and then have someone ask you to describe it? That’s movie pitching.
What you want to do is achieve the same effect with the producer or exec. You want them to believe that you have already seen a great movie, and you’re just telling them about it.
In order to do that, you have to know your entire movie. The whole thing. You need a treatment. You’re not going to show them this treatment. You’re going to use it as the basis for your movie. By writing the treatment, you’re allowing yourself to watch your own movie in your head.
Good! You’ve written your treatment, and you’ve watched your movie in your head.
I hope it’s a good movie. I can’t help you if it’s not. But if it is…then maybe this style of pitching will give you a fighting chance. It’s worked for me.
What you have to figure out now is how much of the movie you want to tell, what you want to accentuate, and what you want to hold back. Generally speaking, here’s how I think it works best:
Milk the plot set up first. Really set the stage. Describe the character as if you’re all watching him for the first time. Give no details. Let them wonder. Go for mystery. Like this.
“We open on a man. Handsome. Sweaty. Leather jacket and fedora. We don’t know who or where he is, other than that he’s a movie star, and it’s a jungle. He walks into a cave…the guys with him scramble. Too afraid. He approaches a golden idol, hidden in here for what must be centuries. It’s right there! Why doesn’t he take it? What is he afraid of? He makes his choice. Takes the idol. Nothing. He did it! (you swig water here) And that’s when the 5 ton boulder comes dropping out of a chute, rolling towards him with unstoppable fury…”
Hoo-daddy! What’s good about cold opening your pitches is that it sucks them in. That’s why we do it in movies, right? And pitches are movies, right? Build the mystery. Let them wonder. And then when you’ve got them…
Anticipate and answer their questions. Now it’s time to tell them about Indiana Jones. What they want is the basics. Who is he, what does he do, what makes him special, what does he want out of life, and what’s his basic flaw? Bullet it. This isn’t the time to be fancy. And if possible, try and use this information to lead to the big plot point.
“It’s 1935. Indiana Jones is a world famous archeologist who spends half the year in a tweed jacket teaching at a university, and the other half on incredible and deadly adventures to retrieve lost treasures from exotic places. They say he’s dodged death a hundred times, and they’re right. But that doesn’t mean he’s happy. He once loved, but she left him, and now he collects women like he collects his artifacts…it’s all about the hunt. Belief in the power of love…or the power of the objects he finds? Nope. Maybe that’s why he’s skeptical when the CIA comes to visit him. They want him to find a supposedly unfindable object that’s supposed to have incredible powers…and he’s got to find it before Hitler does. And what is it? (swig your water) Only the lost Ark of the Covenant. The golden container of the tablets that Moses brought down from Mount Sinai. A direct connection to God himself.”
That’s exposition, character, backstory, theme, and the major plot point of Act One. Weave it. Milk it. Get into it. If you’re ashamed of your own story, you’re dead in the water.
No, I’m not going to pitch out the rest of Raiders. You get the idea. Pitch the action like it’s happening RIGHT NOW! (duck!). Pitch the character, theme and plot points as woven paragraphs, where the execs and producers see how the elements intertwine and feed into each other.
Now, notice that I wrote all that Raiders stuff out? Actually wrote it like dialogue?
This is the key, people. Here’s my biiiiiiiig secret.
Write your pitch before you pitch it.
It’s intuitive, right? We’re writers. We are paid to write words for prettier people to say. Pitching is our moment on the stage. Why shouldn’t we script it first?
Write the whole thing out. Nnnnnoooooo, you’re not going to recite the damn thing like a school play. No, you’re not going to memorize it.
Here’s what I do. I write it out. By writing it in my own voice, I quickly start to get a grasp for how I’m going to tell the story.
I print that document and sit facing a wall.
And then, without looking at the document, I start pitching my movie. Out loud. To the wall. The moment I stop for even a second, I look down at the page, see how I roughly scripted it, and then…
I start again from the very beginning. I do this even if I hit a slight bump near the very very end.
All the way back. Start again.
It usually takes about two hours to get through this process so that I can smoothly pitch for eight minutes. Smoooooothly. No bumps. No glitches. This is crucial. Remember, you’ve already seen this movie, right? If you’ve seen it, why would you be trying to remember it mid-pitch? No, you must be absolutely confident of this movie. If you’re not, they won’t be either.
As I go through this forwards-and-backwards prep, I find things start occuring to me. I begin emphasizing some parts of my scripted pitch and ignoring others. I find new turns of phrases. I discover the parts that get me excited. I find the theater in it.
And when I’m done…I’m ready. The effect is a well-thought out, well-organized, apparently entirely off-the-cuff extemporaneous telling of a movie.
In short, it’s a good pitch.
Okay, now if you’re not good in a room, you’re going to do everything above just as I suggest, but you’re going to add a prop.
Ted and Terry bring an entire corkboard with their movie plotted out on index cards. What the cards do for them is help provide a focus for the producers and execs…and them…that isn’t their faces.
Apparently, they don’t enjoy public speaking the way I do. No problem. The corkboard shifts the heat of the spotlight away from them, and instead of relying on pure showmanship, they’re using their cards as a visual reference for their audience. They bring the producers and executives through the movie via their pitch and their cards.
So…it’s the big day. Any last steps?
Step one: Arrid Extra-Dry. Forget “controlling” your sweat. You want to be able to strike a match off your pits.
Step two: Know where you’re going. Get there early, but don’t go in early. Show up exactly at the time of your appointment. You’re going to wait regardless, but that’s irrelevant. Don’t think about your pitch at all. That will screw you up. Just read Variety or stare at the wall and laugh about how superior you are to the world. You’re not, but just do it. It helps.
Step three: When offered a drink, accept water. Never soda. Too gassy. Just water. Don’t drink it now, even though you’re probably as thirsty as a guy with a bullethole in his gut. Wait until you start pitching. Then use it as a prop. When you get to a cliffhanger (drinks water) take a slug. Make ‘em wait.
Step four: When you’re done, stick around for a brief period of time to hear any immediate reactions, but not too long. You’ve got another pitch to get to right away…even if you don’t.
Step five: Profit.
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Screenwriter Craig Mazin has some excellent advice on pitching. Here's an example:First, understand what it is that you’re pitching. You’re not pitching a script. You’re not pitching a story. You’re pitching a movie. Don’t give me that blank ... Read More
architect ?
Of course! It’s a movie you’ve already seen! That’s a great tip. You’re just telling them about it, like you would your best friend. The story, the character, the great moments… That just feels right and natural, and the way I’d want to be pitched.
Do you tell ‘em about the ending? How much of the movie do you share?
Do you have a sample of a movie pitch (the thing you print out) that you could post on this site? That would be very helpful for us to read and analyze before we try and write our own.
Funny: I’ve never done a pitch, but I’ve spoken in front of people a number of times, and that’s exactly the approach I use. You’re right: As a writer it wasn’t an approach I decided to use. It was the only way I considered doing it. Write it out, practice it, change it as I speak it to make it work better spoken, and then … well, then deliver it. The toast I gave my brother and his wife at their wedding was seven minutes long on a raised stage in front of 250 people—10x the number of people whose attention I’ve ever had to keep, much less entertain—and instead of hearing muttered comments afterward about what a windbag I was, I got compliments on what a great toast it was. Lesson was decisively learned that day: Write it, sprinkle it with humor, practice it till it’s rote, then do it for real. (The speaking-while-you’re-writing thing is essential for writing speakable dialogue as well. Essential. If not even you can deliver a line you wrote yourself … .)
Superb blog, Craig. You and August are dailies. (Right after National Review Online. Heh.)
Clint:
Thanks! Always glad to be in the company of August and Buckley!
Sue:
I’ll hunt around and see what I can do.
This was very informative Craig, but what about dramas or offbeat stuff? I am a little apprehensive about pitching some of my work. I am writing an action movie, which I can clearly see pitching, but not so for my Charles Kaufmanesque\Alex Payney comedy. Maybe I’m just not confident about it yet. Is there such a thing as a movie that’s unpitchable?
Craig, great advice on pitching. But speaking of punctuation (nice segue huh?), periods and commas go inside quotation marks (I posted that on Friedman’s site too). This is the North American style. Brits do things differently.
Adam
Craig -
Funny you should put it that way. I’ve always said to ‘pitch it as if you’ve just seen the movie and you loved it and you’re telling your 14 year old slightly-retarded cousin why it was so cool.’
Adam:
I know. In fact, I’ve had this discussion and debate numerous times (the whole quotation punctuation discussion, that is).
I used to adhere to the American orthodoxy, but I’ve always found it odd. For instance, take this sentence:
I just don’t like that. The comma is demarcating the adverbial clause, and the adverbial clause is of the form “By blank”.
And yeah, I just did it again. :)
Just because the phrase “good in a room” is set off by quotes doesn’t mean that the structure of the adverbial phrase is any different. I don’t see why the comma should go inside. To me, it’s only logical that punctuation go inside quotation marks when the punctuation is part of the quotation itself.
“That’s odd,” thought Martha. “I can’t remember where I left my pudding.”
Makes sense.
Otherwise, I say “Screw it.” And by “screw it”, I mean that I prefer communicative value to grammatical orthodoxy, and I think my awareness of the rules is enough to get me off the hook. :)
C.
I whole-heartedly agree, but I’m always worried that the reader will think I’ve learned grammar and syntax from a group of well trained monkeys.
I’m sure they meant well, but they’re just monkeys.
Well said Craig. There is a definitely a debate to be had. I suppose my only beef is that others reading a writer’s website might get some nasty punctuation ideas in their heads:) Can you tell I’m a writer, editor and supreme dork? I’ll definitely be using your pitching ideas in the near future. adam
best piece on pitching I’ve read in ages. most of the crap on pitching is written by folks who are not very good at it. Not the case here.
I love the bit about the arm pits.
Great post, Craig. Once I attended a pitch workshop with Dan Gordon - people say he’s one of the best pitchers around, never wrote a single spec script - and he said a couple of things I thought were as funny as useful. As you get in the producer/executive’s room, first thing you do is to find the “fish on the wall”. A parenthesis here: I too prefer punctuation outside the quotations, but I’m brazilian. A “fish on the wall” is that fish you see hanging on the wall, and you go: “Did you catch that fish?” If he did, and probably he did, he’ll be more than happy to tell you about it. It helps break the ice and, of course, it doesn’t need to be a fish, could be anything that leads to a personal connection with the producer/executive, like a picture of his kids on his desktop. Another tip Dan gave is actually related to the water bottle/glass. Put it between you and him on the table. After the “fish on the wall” conversation, take off your wrist watch and put it in front of the water glass. Dan said that when you do so, the producer/executive will tell you how much time you still have - if your pitch takes 10 minutes, but you only have 5, don’t do it, set another appointment. During your pitch, you can check the time by looking at the watch everytime you grab the glass of water, without being so explicit about it. And last advice from Dan: you have to be in control of the whole situation, since the beginning. Hope to have added something.
This is amazing stuff for when you’re in a room with execs…but what about phone pitches? That’s my bugaboo.
My advice on phone pitches is don’t. Especially comedy. Especially the first time they’re going to hear the idea and the first time they are goign to encounter you. There are so many cues you pick up in a room. They are more invested in you in a room. I’ve done some phone pitches and they are nearly always a waste of time. Avoid it.
I agree with John. Phone pitches are a no-no. If they don’t want to meet with you, they’re not serious about buying a pitch from you.
Wow…Great, great post. Even more reason why people should start taking more advantage of the forums.
I tend to find myself ‘front-loading’…giving a lot of info up front..breezing through the second act…until my third act (in a pitch) is something akin to ‘remember all that stuff I just talked about? It all blows up. We win. Roll credits.’
Anyone else find that happening? Or do you spend more time on the second than the first? Etc…
One last thing — what happens when they ask you a question you haven’t figured out yet? Is it too bold a move to pull a Lloyd Dobbler and say “I dunno, I haven’t figure it out yet. Just want to hang with your daughter. Sir.”
Gar:
If you’ve really figured out your story, there shouldn’t be a question that finds you flat on your feet. If there is, I’d probably say, “You know what? I thought I knew this story inside and out, but that’s a hell of a question. HELL of a question. Let me mull that one over. I don’t want to give you a gloss-over answer.”
As for your ending…pitch endings not so much as a series of events as a series of events related to the thematic growth and resolution of the main character.
Great article, Craig!
Hey, I’m finally posting here! (I read, but never post.)
As an architect, I’d love it if I shared the same job description with Indiana Jones. Unfortunately, all the archaeologists might take offense.
Other than that, very informative, entertaining article. Thanks.
Whoops. :) Sorry. Fixed.
Wow! This is amazing. I found this post via the Creative Screenwriting website. Thanks for all the advice. I’m not in the position to piutch yet, but you’ve given me a lot to consider as a write my specs. Again, thanks!
Wicked awesome post. I actually got tingles reading it. And now feel like when I go out pitching my next movie I won’t bungle it the way I did the last one. Thanks Craig.
As a writer looking to learn as much as possible from those that know the know, it is a pleasure to read articles like this one. Articles that are passionate and written to share and help others. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to do this.
Long before I ever thought I’d be pitching to anyone, I always naturally “pitched” my movies to my friends as though it were a movie I’d already seen. I get them all worked up, like the working of a room at a party. Now I actually understand what I’m doing. Great article!
What is the difference of a pitch for a documentary film?