Hurry Up and Wait

For anyone still reading this ridiculously inconsistent blog, the writer’s residency in April was fantastic all around – great people, beautiful setting, comfortable, and super productive. The biggest accomplishment from the four weeks was that I “finished” a feature screenplay that I’ve been working on for years. It’s now being “packaged” by a big agency with a producer and me attached. I put these words in quotes because nothing is ever really finished and, while I understand how packaging is supposed to work, I have yet to see the process yield anything tangible. Then again, it’s early days.

I also wrote a very rough first draft of another project. And caught up on a bunch of stuff. It was one of the most productive periods in recent memory. All I did was work!

Straight out of the residency, I went to New York City and did a table reading of the feature screenplay. It was both humbling and incredibly gratifying to hear a script that’s been in my head for years read aloud by real actors (as opposed to the voices in my head). They literally breathed life into the words, and I could not have been more grateful.

As expected, when I finally came home, I sank into a state of despondency. It felt as if I had just woken up from a month-long dream… in which my only responsibility was to write, all my meals were prepared for me, my friends were fabulous artists, and all we talked about was art and the creative process and other lofty ideals… only to realize that I had never left my house.

Of course, I knew I had left the house and it wasn’t a dream, but for a while, things did not add up. My head was still in the clouds; my body was back to mowing the lawn and picking up the dog’s poop.

The moment when reality truly hit me was on my third day home when I was standing in the aisles of the local supermarket staring at all the choices of toothpaste (and everything else) wondering how the hell did I used to make such choices and why?

It took a while, but I got over it. Got back into a rhythm.

The hardest aspect of re-entry was dealing with all of life’s distractions again. One of the reasons why we go on residencies is to minimize distractions, and this one was no different. At the residency, I got into the habit of turning my phone off for long stretches and leaving it in the studio when I went to bed. Once I took it with me to dinner (in a separate building) but it slipped out of my pocket on the way. When I realized at dinner my phone was missing, I shrugged and forgot about it until two hours later when I was walking back to the studio and saw it lying in the mud.

That mindset was golden. And unsustainable.

I know a famous writer who still types his work on a typewriter and doesn’t have an email address (people contact him through his assistant). His office doesn’t have internet, and for years he didn’t carry a cell phone. All of this was designed to minimize the distractions and help maintain his focus. Of course, this isn’t feasible for most of us, but damn it sounds great, doesn’t it? (how ironic to live in a fairly quiet small town and still yearn for an even more remote environment.)

Anyway, I’ve figured out a way to make it work, keep up with my deadlines and responsibilities and still churn out pages. When I really want to focus, I do turn my phone off (after warning a few people ahead of time), and that helps.

Apart from distractions, the other excruciating factor is how much waiting is involved. As a writer, it seems like you’re always waiting for something – a meeting, a call, an answer, feedback, movement! Then when you do get that call, or that meeting, or that crucial news, there’s an immediate rush of adrenaline and flurry of activity. Because you’re excited and want things to move already and you’re scared that the people you’ve been waiting for won’t wait for you.

The fear that people will forget about you and your beloved project and (horror of horrors) move on is highly motivating. You end up rushing to do whatever it is you’ve been asked to do and turning it around as fast as you can… only to return to a state of waiting once you deliver! It’s a vicious cycle and, unfortunately, the nature of the beast. And truly maddening.

I deal with it by staying busy and having multiple projects going on at the same time. This way when I’m waiting for something on one, I’m preoccupied with doing something with the other. If writing was like dating it would be the equivalent of not waiting by the phone and pining for that person you really like because you’re out with somebody else and not thinking about them!

Have many eggs in the basket. That’s my advice. And play whatever mind game you need to, to get you through the waiting.

Now, after a long, hot (dry!) summer, it’s pouring rain and starting to feel a little chillier in the mornings and evenings. Hoping to power through this fall and get some big things accomplished. Anything to keep my mind off of the projects that I’m waiting on.

Happy writing, folks. I’ll be back soon (sooner than six months, I swear).

Writing on (Self-Imposed) Deadline

Last year I had an epiphany about a spec script that I’ve been writing for a while. I decided to change half of the story’s setting and delve deeper with the main character’s arc. This meant a complete rewrite and restructuring. Which I knew would take a while. So, I applied to a bunch of writer residencies for this year.

I explained in the applications that my goal was to come out of the residency with a draft that was ready to *go* (i.e. be sent to talent, shopped around for funding). I further explained that between the time of applying and the time of the potential residency (a six month period), I would be doing at least two full rewrites, the intention of completing the last rewrite at the residency (as much as scripts are ever really complete).

I went ahead with this plan without knowing if I would be accepted anywhere.

The first rewrite was difficult, to say the least.

I had to basically take the script apart, add a bunch of scenes, and then put it back together – all while keeping it the same length, which meant other scenes had to go. It was a grueling process. I went hunting for scenes from previous drafts, I wrote new scenes, I took out the voice-over narration, I put it back in, I took it out again. For a minute, I actually thought I would turn the screenplay into a television series! It was MESSY.

As the holidays approached, I finally (thankfully) gained some clarity and put together a decent enough draft that I could submit to my writers group for feedback by the time it was my turn in early January.

The writers group loved it and said “it’s ready to go!” Of course, they still had some notes.

After that, I was busy with production for about six weeks, so I couldn’t address their notes right away. This ended up being a good thing because it 1) gave me time away from the script (important), and 2) gave me time to think about their notes.

Also, in mid-January, I learned that I was accepted to one of the residencies! My starting date would be March 30, so I had roughly three months to do the next draft and get another round of notes before leaving.

The ticking clock got louder.

This time, because of all that was going on with this other project, I knew that I would only have a two-week window to address the writers group notes. My goal was to share it with my screenwriting friend in Los Angeles and get her feedback before leaving for residency on the 30th.

I reached out to my friend to confirm that she could do this, because who knows what her own writing schedule was like. If she were working on deadline, there was no way she would be able to read my work and get back to me within a week or two. Luckily, she was available.

So, a few weeks ago, I started in again… slowly at first, tweaking here and there. Then last week I got more into it. I had given myself a deadline of March 15 at the latest, but really wanted to finish by Sunday March 13.

And folks, that’s what I did.

On Sunday evening, I emailed my friend the new draft. Mother Nature helped by dumping a big snowstorm on us over the weekend, which was very conducive to writing (see below pic of our walk in the storm). Will my friend like the script? Will she tell me to throw this out and start again? Who knows. The point is that I accomplished what I set out to do, and I did it on deadline, albeit self-imposed.

All this to say, that I’m proud of myself for planning things ahead of time and taking my writing so seriously. I juggled a lot to prioritize this project and stuck to my self-imposed schedule.

Most of all, I’m proud that I prepared for this residency without knowing if I’d be accepted. I forged ahead as if I would be accepted. And now, I’m exactly where I said I would be.

I’m trying to adopt this “as if” approach more often. Act as if whatever it is you’re going for is going to happen. BELIEVE it will happen. PLAN for it. WORK towards it.

If it doesn’t happen, you’ll be that much further along with whatever it is you’re doing.

And if it does happen, you’ll be 100% ready.

Taking a break from writing to play in the storm.

Knowing Yourself as a Writer

Last week was interesting. On Tuesday, I received notes from my managers on a television pilot that I’ve been writing for several months. At the end of the meeting, they asked me if I could turn the script around by Friday. “Next Friday?” I asked. “No, this Friday.” I said Yes, even though Friday was only three days later, and I was supposed to drive to NYC on Wednesday and return on Friday. I wasn’t 100% sure I could do it, but I was pretty sure… if I stayed calm and approached the next three days with focus and discipline.

To be fair, the notes weren’t extensive. Some were just tweaks, but a couple were definitely more than that. They would require research, new scenes, and new dialogue. And the whole script would need to be tweaked to accommodate these new scenes.

I started that afternoon after the meeting by going outside with my dog and just thinking about things. I wrote nothing for the rest of the day except some ideas on a yellow pad.

Wednesday morning, I transcribed the notes from the day before (I record these meetings on my phone, so I can listen to them later). I organized the notes into “easy fixes” and “not so easy fixes,” and for the rest of the day, made as many of the easy fixes as possible, checking them off as I went. In the afternoon I drove to NYC, using those three hours to again think about how to approach the rest of the notes. That night, I didn’t write. I ate dinner, watched TV with my family and fell asleep.

Thursday morning, I got up early, made my coffee (I’d actually brought my beans and french press to guarantee there would be no hiccups), and did research for the two new scenes I had to write. By mid-day I was ready to start writing for real.

Now, I don’t know how other writers work, but before I get into my draft with any structural or character changes, I first make those changes in the outline and character breakdown. I need to see the changes from a birds eye view. Only when I’m comfortable with how the changes look, feel and flow in these two documents do I open the screenplay.

So, I spent a couple of hours working on the outline and character breakdown, then another couple of hours working on the actual draft. Before taking a break to run errands and eat dinner, I printed out the script and put it aside. After dinner, I read the new draft, made notes, then spent a couple of hours that night revising.

Friday morning, I tweaked everything again, several times. I debated sending it before leaving, partly to get it off my shoulders and out of my mind, partly just in case something happened to me on the drive home – at least the draft would be delivered! But my instinct (and several wise Twitter followers) told me to wait until the EOD. Why rush?

Friday afternoon, I drove back home, arriving around 5pm ET. I still had 3 hours before EOD in Los Angeles.

Before unpacking, I printed the script AGAIN, read it, tweaked and tweaked (it was a good thing I waited). I emailed it to my managers at 7:00 pm EST.

And that was that!

I’m not sharing all this because it’s a big deal. It’s really not. But last week showed me that I am getting better at knowing for example: how long it takes me to do things, how best to approach the task at hand, how to stay organized, how to not panic, and so on.

Will the managers like the new draft? Who knows. It’s all part of the process. I’m just happy I did what I said what I would do. And happy that I’m getting better at knowing myself as a writer.

Have a great week, everyone!

A Literary Life

A couple of weeks ago, I was walking with a new writer friend who is disillusioned with her day job. When she said she’s craving a literary life, I responded with an enthusiastic YES! And we mused on what that would actually look like.

My definition of a literary life is one where you make a living as a writer. Perhaps I’m a romantic, but a true literary life also means you’re writing projects that you want to write, as opposed to just writing for money (a combination of both is acceptable).

Examples of people who led/lead literary lives, some more happily than others: Joan Didion, Stephen King, Virginia Woolf, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Toni Morrison, Ernest Hemingway, Ronan Farrow, Shirley Jackson, and countless others.

Ironically, since the pandemic hit and quarantine life began, I’ve been living a semi-literary life, at least getting a taste of it. Being sent home to work and having a light workload afforded me much more time to myself, not to mention the general shutdown of everything and inability to go anywhere.

For the first time, I was home all day and still collecting a paycheck. My time was not entirely my own; I still had to check work emails and be available for conference calls, etc. But this took up only a fraction of the day. The rest of the time I was almost living That Life.

What does a literary life mean exactly? For one thing, it means a lot – and I mean A LOT – of time alone (the primary reason why this life isn’t for everyone).

I live alone so this is easy, but even if I had a partner or roommate, I would still need to spend a large part of my day by myself. Often I wonder if I’ll ever meet another partner who understands and is able to respect my need for long stretches of solitude.

While alone, I am mostly thinking, also watching movies or television shows,  making notes, researching, outlining, reading, talking to myself, and, yes, writing. 

When I’m IN THE ZONE, I rarely answer my phone. I prefer not to deal with people or really the world. I do take breaks but I really try to stay in the zone as much as possible and avoid outside distractions. This is the only way I can concentrate. Even then these measures are not always enough.

Sometimes I have to turn my phone and WiFi completely off. I’ve pulled back from the many volunteering activities I used to do, and, even now that things are opening up again, I only occasionally go out. The few times I did venture out, I was so quiet that people wondered if I was okay.

By no means, am I a workaholic.

I’m less confident that I’m not becoming a bit of a hermit.

I’m not sure everyone understands my behavior, how seriously I take my writing, or the countless hours necessary to write something good (it doesn’t help that I’m a slow writer).

Regardless, I’m absolutely determined to make a living as a writer… and every day I get closer.

In the past three months, I’ve managed to finish my screenplay and write two freelance articles. I’m now in the very early stages of writing the next screenplay. 

Soon, my time will be 100% my own, as my job let me go due to COVID (my last day is July 31). But I’m trying to think of it in a positive way. Like maybe this is another step towards my goal.

 

 

Barry Levy’s 10 Tips for Screenwriters

Besides the occasional celebrity sighting (last week, Kiefer Sutherland), one of the perks of living/working where I do is the access to industry professionals. Recently, I had the pleasure of participating in an intimate roundtable discussion with Barry Levy, screenwriter of VANTAGE POINT (2008) and the upcoming PARANOIA (2013). Barry shared some valuable insight on the realities of professional screenwriting.

He began by explaining how he got started in the business, as the assistant to the head of Nelvana, an animation company, and quickly rose through the ranks to development executive. His first scripts, mostly low-budget horror films, were all unsuccessful. The ones he managed to sell were produced direct-to-video, so never made it theaters. His early career included highs like being flown first class to London to meet a prospective director for one of his scripts, and lows like having to sue a producer to get paid for a film. His first nine writing credits totaled less than $21,000.

Frustrated with writing for others, he decided to write for himself, the result being VANTAGE POINT. It sold within 24 hours, the morning after an all night bidding war. Today his 5 year-old daughter goes to kindergarten with – and has professed love for – the son of the producer he sued. Such is the irony of life in Hollywood.

Barry then shared some basic facts that he thinks every aspiring screenwriter should know:

1. Your job is far bigger than just what you write. How you interact with people is a huge factor, and it will catch up to you.

2. You will be alone A LOT, so you better really love to write. Not surprisingly, feature writers are known for having less social skills than television writers.

3. As a screenwriter, nothing is in your control, at times not even what’s on the page. Writing for film is a collaborative experience, and not always for the better. You will receive notes from studio execs, producers, directors, actors, friends and family, and you will have to listen to these people, some more than others. You can also be fired, replaced, rewritten and/or misinterpreted. Your words can be changed on set. You could show up to a movie premiere and literally not recognize the movie that was made based on your script. You have no control.

4. You will struggle with this lack of control for as long as you are a screenwriter.

5. Striking a balance between work and life will help you deal with the lack of control. Kids and/or animals can put things in perspective and help you turn your brain “off” from work. Writing a spec script and/or directing affords you a little more control, but not all writers want to be directors.

6. Whatever you turn in should feel like your final draft. You only get one chance to make a first impression, so put everything you’ve got into making it as good as it can be.

7. Never say “No” to a note, even if it’s the worst note ever. Say “Let me give it some thought.”

8. Be aware of the “math” of writing when approaching agents. The average script by a newbie writer sells for Writer’s Guild (WGA) minimum of approximately $35,000, of which an agent gets 10%. Usually, agents work in teams of 2, sometimes 3, so they’re actually not making that much money on your sale. Don’t take it personally if your calls don’t get returned as fast as the screenwriter who sells for six figures. 

9. Confidence is key. You need to know who you are, define who you are, and own who you are. When considering writers for projects, producers and executives make a list of possible candidates based on their recent work. If you write a horror film, followed by a romantic comedy, followed by a children’s movie, it will only confuse the industry. Don’t try to do, or be, too many things at once.

10. If you’re really serious about screenwriting, you should listen to the weekly free podcast by screenwriters John August (Go, Big Fish, Charlie’s Angels, Titan A.E., Charlie and Chocolate Factory) and Craig Mazin (The Hangover Part II, The Hangover Part III, Superhero Movie, Scary Movie 3, Scary Movie).  They give fantastic advice and information on a wide range of topics related to screenwriting, pitching, dealing with agents, producers and more. http://johnaugust.com/podcast or subscribe via iTunes.

I found Barry to be really down-to-earth, funny and endearing. He had no pretensions or romanticized views of Hollywood. He wasn’t bitter. He just told like it is. And even though his advice was somewhat sobering, he managed to give everyone in the room hope.