My Parisian Lifestyle

  I found out yesterday that the Met supermarket across the street from my apartment is shutting down and being replaced by a CVS.
     It was disconcerting information because ever since my first trip to Paris, I realized that I was living a Parisian lifestyle in Manhattan. In my Gramercy Park neighborhood I shop nearly every day for fresh produce, meat, wine and bread. The only things I don’t have access to are a patisserie and boulangerie.
     I feel as if I live in Paris, carrying home my baguette, bottle of pinot noir, croissant, chocolate or whatever. I live ten minutes from high-end stores like Whole Foods, Trader Joes, Westside Market, Garden of Eden, a cheese shop and three wine stores within two blocks.  But when I don’t feel like going to any of them, I go to my tiny, old school Met supermarket. Besides milk, eggs and the usual canned staples, I can buy imported cheese, chocolate and sausage, European beer and junk food (I am, after all, an American). I’m in the Met every day picking up something, especially when I'm cooking dinner, usually four-to-five nights per week. I love to cook. It’s my hobby. I never miss Top Chef. I know the cashiers first names and have relationships with them. I like Jose, the manager. When I'm out of town on a vacation, I miss them. Counting the CVS replacing Met, that will make three CVS stores within a four-block radius of my apartment. 
     Directly across the street is a Duane Reade and four blocks away is a Walgreens, and in a different direction two blocks away is another Walgreens. Oh, and another Duane Reade is two blocks in the other direction. Unfortunately, there are no old school supermarkets like Met nearby. The closest one is a Morton Williams seven blocks away. Oh, and seven blocks back. It’s pretty small too, unlike the gigantic suburban megastores that could house several airbuses. Paris is filled with old school supermarkets, most of which are even tinier than my Met. 
     The Met employees are being driven out by increased rent: from $15,000 to $25,000 per month. Jose has worked for the company for 40 years and to keep a job with Met (not as manager), he would have to take a salary cut of $700 a week. All of the cashiers will be out of work. Some are older, in their 50s. They are frightened about finding employment. Others are in there 20s and are more hopeful they’ll land something.
     As for me, I will have to walk 14 blocks to the closest supermarket. But Morton Williams is not across the street, so I won’t be going that often, certainly not every day. It won’t be a place I can stop in on my way home to grab a baguette, imported Gruyère cheese or Norwegian beer. Worst of all for moi, the landlord who is almost doubling the Met’s rent, has taken away my Parisian lifestyle. 
     C'est la vie!Quel dommage!

The Bad Ass Screenwriter

As a Script Consultant for many years, I’ve worked with more than 2,000 screenwriters. Most of them are nice people.
Good guys and women. Many have hired me more than once. I’ve become friends with lots of them. I’ve helped them through deals. I’ve been invited to weddings, baptisms, bar mitzvahs and numerous parties, rooftop gatherings and barbecues.
But frankly, most of these good people are wimps.
What exactly is a wimp? The following comes from the dictionary on the dock of my computer.
Coward, namby-pamby, pantywaist, weakling, milquetoast, wuss, pansy, candy-ass, scaredy-cat, chicken.
Instead of calling them wimps, let’s just say they were all too nice.
But nice is for dogs.
Let’s look at another word: bad ass: a tough, uncompromising, or intimidating person.
Which would you rather be when you’re negotiating a deal for your screenplay?
Ninety percent of the screenwriters I’ve worked with are in their 20s, 30s and 40s. Another nine.nine percent are in their 50s, 60s and 70s. I’ve had two others in their 80s. I didn’t know these two guys ages until after I finished their screenplays and I met them. Incidentally, both of them wrote killer scripts.
One was a war hero. Not Desert Storm. Not Vietnam. Not Korea.
World War Two! A great guy. A weapons expert. But he was too nice.
Is that you? Are you too nice? Are you tired of all the bullshit you’ve been dragged through? Have you had enough? Are you fed up to the core, broken and ready to throw in the towel because you’ve let producers, studio executives, Hollywood agents, directors and actors (if you’ve gotten that far?) and everybody else walk all over you?
The infamous screenwriter Joe Esterhaus (Basic Instinct, Jagged Edge, Music Box) was most assuredly not too nice. He was and is the bad ass of screenwriters. He’s downright scary with his shoulder length streaked hair, long beard and ever-present snarl.
He rarely smiles and in his hey day he wore lots of leather. He looks and sounds like a Hells Angel enforcer. He could have fit right in to Sons of Anarchy. He made a career (and a fortune) out of intimidating Hollywood executives. Even on his lousier scripts, he got big money and a begrudging respect (or maybe fear). BTW, Check out Joe Esterhas’ great book The Devils Guide To Hollywood: The Screenwriter As God.
He wasn’t afraid to throw or take a punch. That’s the way every screenwriter should be. Do you see yourself that way? I’m a screenwriter myself and the idea of throwing, and especially, taking a punch makes me uneasy.
David Mamet (Glengarry Glen Ross, The Untouchables, Spartan) is also a tough guy. He’s fairly small and he rarely smiles (not sure what the not-smiling thing is all about), but he’s a bad ass that executives don’t like to mess with.
He too wrote an incredible book Bambi vs. Godzilla: On the Nature, Purpose, and Practice of the Movie Business.
Frank Darabont wrote a script for the 4th installment of the Indiana Jones franchise only to have it rejected by George Lucas. He was upset, but didn’t lose it because he “didn’t want to harm my friendship with Steven (Spielberg).” And I think it’s fair to say that words were exchanged with the bosses of AMC regarding their disagreements on The Walking Dead.
There are many other stories of bad ass screenwriters who took their scripts by the horns and managed to control them, but those guys are rare. Billy Bob Thornton once jumped on a producer’s desk ready to beat the crap out of him for messing with his script.
I’ve worked with multi-millionaires, hard-nosed, tough-edged businessmen (and women) who had the killer instinct in their other careers, but are the biggest babies as screenwriters. I’ve worked with doctors, lawyers of every kind, editors, high school teachers, college professors, PhD.’s, psychologists, psychiatrists, advertising copywriters, publishers and virtually dozens of professions who’ve wimped out when it came to their screenplays.
Why is that?
Before I answer the question, let me ask you something: are you too nice?
Do you have the courage to admit it? Of course you don’t because nobody likes to think of themselves as being weak.
But chances are that you are weak when it comes to your screenplay. Maybe not at first. You’re filled with piss and vinegar, but then the nonsense starts and continues with your second and third scripts. You want a deal so badly that you will do whatever it takes to make it happen and usually that means selling your soul, losing your integrity and turning into a whore (which is worse than being a wimp).
Whichever route you chose, at the end of the day, your screenplay doesn’t get made or sold and you’re back at square one having your calls, emails and texts go unanswered by the people who took advantage of you.
If you’re new to screenwriting this information may come as a surprise and it might be easy to be judgmental. You may think I’m full of crap, but if you’ve been at it for a few years and come close to getting a deal (or actually got a deal and made some money) you’ll know what I’m talking about.
The thing is: most screenwriters are afraid to be bad asses.  They’ve spent anywhere from four months to three years working on a screenplay and most don’t know what to do with it. They finish their first script and are all gung ho about getting it out to agents. When they find out that’s easier said than done, it’s a real wake up call.
There were times in my screenwriting career where I wished I’d spoken up. And I can’t tell you the number of times former students, clients, colleagues and friends have not spoken up when they should have.
It’s easy to understand why they didn’t.
They didn’t want to rock the boat and risk being replaced on somebody’s whim. Getting the deal is life and death. So is getting your movie made.
Speaking up is the key. I’ve done it. Twice. And both times I was treated differently than when I was my usual frightened screenwriter. The first time it was about money. A certain figure was brought up in the early stage of the deal. Then it came time to make it happen and the figure was cut in half.
I needed the money, but I was so enraged at the cheapness of the two producers that I stood my ground and said it had to be the initial figure.
I waited three days. They agreed. I got the money.
I was petrified during the three-day wait that my plan would backfire. I was physically ill.
Then the phone call came from the money guy. My aggressiveness paid off.
The second time was also about money. It’s ironic how being desperate for a paycheck will make a screenwriter get some balls.
I’m writing this because of a recent agent situation. I got an email from someone I knew who started out as a television writer, but wound up as an agent for a big firm. In his email he told me he was looking for screenplays and could I get him some, not only my own, but of everybody I knew.
Duh! Yeah!
I contacted ten of the best screenwriters I knew who had great scripts. A few had come close to getting deals. The rest were first-timers. I knew the scripts were great because I helped them develop them. I also included one of mine. I told each person (male and female) to email the new agent and mention me. He was ecstatic to have all these wonderful projects. He thanked me profusely.
And I felt happy that I could be the conduit to my screenwriter clients possibly getting an agent.
Two months passed. A couple of the ten emailed me about it. One wanted to call the agent. I suggested that she not. “Better to hold off and wait for him to call you,” I said.
I, on the other hand, did contact him with a gentle, pathetically friendly email asking if he’d had a chance to read the scripts.
“No. I’m swamped. I promise I’ll get to them soon.”
It’s now three months, going on four. I’m ticked off because I’m starting to look bad to the screenwriters I contacted. I reassured them all that the guy was new on the job and that he would be getting back very soon.
But I wasn’t really certain of that.
I sincerely hope he will.
I want to handle this like Joe Esterhas because at times like this he is my hero. I could never really be like him, maybe it’s in the DNA, but if I pushed myself, I could be a little bad ass now and then. So could you.
 I want to call up the agent and say something to the effect of, “What’s the deal, asshole? You tell me you want screenplays and I give you ten winners and you can’t find the time to read them? What the fuck’s going on with you? Jesus Christ, man, read the Goddamn scripts or I’ll take them to somebody who will!”
I think I could do that. Could you? Would you be able to muster the courage to say it or something tougher or something really nasty that will rattle the agent’s cage?
Most people would say I’m a nice guy. Maybe too nice.   
But I know I’ll have to get more assertive if anything is going to happen with my screenwriting career.
And you will too.
You just cannot be nice.
Don’t be afraid to risk the deal or the almost deal. Don’t be afraid to tell a producer that his notes are idiotic. Don’t be afraid to defend the scene or the Act break or the ending you know in your heart is right.
You’re the person who created the script. You’re the writer in the room. You’re the one who labored over your screenplay. Don’t let them take it away from you.

     Remember: nice is for dogs.

I'm Baaaaaa-aaaaacccckkkkk!

     It's been awhile, almost nine months since I last posted.  But I have an excuse. I've been busy and lucky enough to get work. Yes. Work!!!
     It happens.
     I got a writing gig on a new sitcom called Don't Know Jack. When it will air is anyone's guess, but that's how it is in the television business. For example, over the years I've had seven deals. 7. I got the money, but none of them ever made it to the air. Just like most pilots never make it to the air. 
     I also got a rewrite of a screenplay called Dead Is Even. Worked on it, on and off, for five months. The producer hired me because he read a screenplay I wrote eight years ago. He had always liked the script and said he would back pocket it (which means he would always symbolically have it in his back pocket if the occasion ever arose where a studio was looking for something like it. )
     Lo and behold: a script came across his desk, which he optioned and remembered my screenplay and called me because it needed a rewrite.
     It's good to be remembered.
     This kind of thing is pretty much the norm for screenwriters. Not the upper echelon types, but the normal, typical screenwriter. The work comes sporadically until you're connected to a project that gets some buzz and makes some noise and gets made and gets more buzz and noise and suddenly you're a hot screenwriter.
     Anyway, I'm happy to be back in the saddle and I will be posting on a regular basis.
     Oh, by the way, I also published three books during these last nine months.
    Writers Rehab, Never Trust Ann Coulter and my third novel Paris Time (A Time-Travel Novel) that has been selling well.
     Check all of them out or just one.
     See you soon!

30 Days And Counting To Publication Date!

     One month from today, Writers Rehab will be published published. To say that I'm excited about it would be an understatement.  Whether you're a novelist, screenwriter, playwright or television writer, Writers Rehab will work for you.
     The book is designed to be a comprehensive self-help book in the form of a 12-Step Program for writers dealing with emotional or psychological roadblocks with their writing.
     You can use it as a source to deal with the numerous scenarios that face writers:
          * Being stifled creatively
          * Running into brick walls
          * Losing confidence
          * And experiencing writers block to the point of depression and creative collapse
     Starting today, I will be making posts about the book and about the worst thing that can happen to any writer: writers block
     I've had it. I know you've had it.  Frankly, my guess is that everyone has had it at one point or another.
     But there are ways around it.

Is Finding The Spine of Your Story Breaking Your Back?

     As with all writing, no matter if it's a novel, screenplay, television pilot or play, everything boils down to structure. Without it, you're doomed. Without even a basic cause and effect outline, eventually you'll hit a brick wall.
     Even when we have a detailed scene by scene or chapter by chapter outline, the actual writing part is difficult, some say even torturous.
     What can be of help is to understand the spine of your story. What is what you're writing "really" about? The wildest thriller can still be about the disconnect between a father and son or a child from an alcoholic family's relationship with her mother or a guy with authority issues.
     Re-watch or re-read your favorite novels or movies and figure out what the stories are "really" about. Or look at the TV shows your currently watching or have watched? 
     Was "The Sopranos" about the brutal head of a Mafia family? Or was it "really" about a mobster who was the head of a Mafia family who was also a family man with mother issues? 
     Think about it.
     I recently saw a production of the play "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" I saw the movie years ago and I've read it, as well. On the surface it's about a destructive relationship between a man and wife. But if you look at it closely, what it's really about is a woman disappointed with herself for marrying a weak man who she compares to her successful father, which says to me the spine of the play is a woman with father issues.
     Now, the play is one of my favorites and it's about other things, as well, but the core of the structure, i.e., the spine, comes from Martha putting her father on a pedestal. Her husband can never live up to her father and she never lets him forget it.
     So pick a couple of your favorite works of fiction and look for the spine. It will help you recognize the spine of your story.

Don't Keep Knocking On The Door When You Know In Your Heart Nobody's Coming

     A big mistake many writers make is waiting for someone to help them. I don't mean with what you're writing at the moment,  but with what I like to call the "maintenance" of your career. Once your project is ready (meaning you've done several drafts, gotten positive feedback and you're confident it's as good as it can be), it's like a child being sent out into the world.
     Unfortunately, the world doesn't care and it won't be a welcoming place for your baby to enter into.
     That's where you come in. Unless you have contacts in high places or a referral to someone who can help you, you and only you are responsible for finding a contact in a high place and getting your own referrals.
     Too many new (and not so new) writers are helpless. 
     They act like foreigners in a country who don't speak the language.
     They are timid about asking for help. 
     They are lazy. They feel that the hard work was in getting their project in shape. I won't say that that's the easy part, but finding an agent, manager, editor producer who will even read your script is almost as difficult.
     Whatever discipline and work habits you used to write your latest opus, you must do the same in your pursuit of representation or an interested producer. 
     Allocate an hour day (more if you can spare it) to surfing the Internet for writing sites and contests with the hope of finding a name who will be receptive to reading your script or at least reading a synopsis.
    Get to know people, especially other writers or people working in the business. Join writers support groups. Go to symposiums on writing or breaking into the business. Everywhere you go talk to people. Schmooze. You never know where you'll find someone who knows someone who knows someone else.
     And keep writing query letters and query emails. Find ways to nail down the exact email address of someone important. Or even of someone not important, but who may know someone who is.
     The thing you should do least of all is to wait for someone to knock on your door, out of the blue. Or wait for someone who said they would help you, but didn't. If you encounter someone who seems positive and receptive, be thankful, but also be mistrustful. They may be lying or just yessing you to death so you'll stop bugging them.
     Be relentless, be polite, be cautious and be smart enough to know who has your best interests at heart and who doesn't.
     And hope for some luck!

Are You An Overwriter or Underwriter?

     Screenplays, as well as all forms of writing, are either overwritten or underwritten. And I don't mean strictly by length.  An overwriter will write a screenplay that's just too long. I encourage people to shoot for 110 pages, but many new (and experienced) screenwriters go way over, as well as way under. 
     This kind of overwriting and underwriting can be fixed by either editing and cutting or adding and embellishing scenes, sub-plots and the main storyline.
     The other problem area is what I'm dealing with today.
     Scenes can also be overwritten and underwritten. Overwritten means you've put in too much information or information the reader already knows or you've written a monologue that stops the forward movement of the plot dead in it's tracks. Simple, the scene is bloated and needs to be trimmed or maybe even eliminated.
     Underwritten scenes are an even bigger problem. When you have to edit a scene that's too long, it's a bit easier than having to embellish a scene that's too short. Now, in screenwriting, scenes should be short. If you can give all relevant information in a one page (or less) scene good for you. Move on to the next scene. But often, it's not that simple. Some scenes require crucial info to move the story or reveal character, so it's difficult to make it lean and mean.
     Ultimately, you will look at your first draft and realize that some scenes work very well, others are underwritten and some are overwritten.
     An underwritten scene means that you've given some information that presumably will lead to the next scene, but you just do a cursory job of it. You've written an exchange between two characters consisting of 10 lines. It probably needs 20 or 30 to clearly get the information you need to get across.
     Overwritten scenes are frustrating to read because they just have too damn much information, but at least the key info is there. Underwritten scenes are more frustrating because you merely drop some information and move to the next scene, but you leave the reader hanging and frustrated because we're not sure what you're trying to get across.
     So if you've written a scene that looks too short on the page, it probably is. Take another look at it and make sure it contains what you want it to contain. And if it doesn't, take another crack at it.