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.
