by Blake Snyder
There was Ben BEFORE, like so many of you, in the desert, just him and his ideas. Now here he was AFTER with his Fiji water, ready to “go to the next level.” Pretty cool! Ben had passed the first test. He'd written and sold a script. Now he has to get more projects “in the pipeline,” and that means a combination of Pitches, Rewrites, and Get-to-Know Ya's. So what are these?
“Pitches” are just that, a verbal presentation of a script yet to be written, and one reason Ben's agent was asking what he is working on. Having sold a script, Ben is in a much better position to pitch new ideas and perhaps sell them. During the spec screenplay send-out, Ben's agent made a list of possible producers who might be interested. In addition to Underground, another producer was needed to “take the script into the studio.” I don't know about Ben's sale, but an agent may make phone calls to, and send scripts out for, 20 – 50 producers, hoping to ramp up interest in a script. (So you see how much work is involved?) In the course of this, some liked Ben's script, some passed, but even those who didn't sign on may have liked Ben's writing. And having seen someone else ace them out of a sale, they are more inclined now to meet and see what Ben has that might help them.
Whaddya got for me?
Pitch meetings are ever thus. If it's a hot idea, or if the writer has “heat,” the agent will gang up many meetings in a few days hoping to generate the same kind of excitement a spec sale does. More often, it's a calmer affair. One producer may like the idea most, so more meetings are set to work on the pitch and get it ready for sale.
But it all starts with that initial meeting.
If you are versed in Save the Cat! you are ahead of other pitchers. Poster. Logline. Simple story spine. Eager and inspired telling of the tale. Ten minutes, tops. That's the pitch.
One of the handiest hints I've seen to organize your pitch came up in one of my classes in Seattle. Betty Ryan constructed a great way to give a concise outline of her story by identifying seven key points of the BS2 to guide all her pitches:
Betty Ryan's Short Pitch Guide
1. Opening Image – A brief “who” of the hero
2. Catalyst – The thing that sets the story in motion
3. Break into Two – The essence of the story and poster
4. Midpoint – The complication that challenges the hero
5. All Is Lost – How the hero loses everything
6. Break into Three – The solution to the hero's dilemma
7. Final Image – How he is transformed by this story
Regardless of how you organize your story, once you've finished your pitch… shut up! The first one to talk loses. If you give into temptation and can't help spewing more stuff after you've said “The End,” you are indulging in a pitching no-no called Selling Past the Close. My other advice is, once you've pitched, and waited, and they pass and then ask if you have anything else you'd like to pitch to them… say no. Others will disagree, but to me, I think writers should be more than guys with a coat full of watches. Don't like that one? How about this?
I need to believe that what you're pitching me means something to you. You can hint that you have other things you're working on, and thumbnail those, but if they want to hear your next idea, schedule a time to come back in and tell it right.
Rewrites follow the same pattern. Having read Ben, a producer or a studio might have work for him on a stalled script, book, or other project yet to gel. When there is material to review before the meeting, they'll send it to you to prepare. What every-one is looking for is your “take.” My advice is to not necessarily listen to what the producers think they want. A stalled project is so because producers keep hearing the same old solutions, so your job is to try to think “outside the brads” of the script, and come up with a fresh take.
Many times the way to do that is to review the very same techniques we've been using on your script – namely “The Five Questions to Straighten the Story Spine” (see Chapter 4) or a review of the “Three Worlds” of a story landscape (see Chapter 3). And when you dazzle them with your skills and get the job, delivering can really help your career. The A-list writers are those that master this service.
“Get-to-know ya's” (also called “Generals”) are less formal; if you have a coat full of watches to sell, now's the time to whip ‘em out! The producer or executive liked your script. This is her chance to put writer's voice to writer's face. Sometimes, if a General goes well, you'll spark to one of her ideas, or she'll spark to one of yours. These casual meetings can get serious fast.
BEFORE, DURING, AND AFTER THE MEETING
Me? I like to dress nicely for these events. After I prepare, I try to make sure I've got a casual, but professional, outfit ready. Women, I've learned from Tracey, are best served by wearing comfortable chic. Tracey always wears nice slacks and a blouse to our pitches, and always has great personal presence. Tracey is a former actress (you can see her in the hairdresser scene of Heartburn) and is “funny in the room” as they say. It helps. If you aren't like this, or feel like you want some tips in this area, read my pal Stephanie Palmer's book, Good in a Room, which is excellent. I even keep a diary, a habit I developed early on, and make notes about what projects I'm pitching, whom I met with, what my impressions were about both them and my performance, and make sure I put every contact into a database that I keep updating every year.
I also like to drop a quick written thank you note to the executive I met with. And if there is some news item or hobby we touched on in the meeting that's personal, I usually mention it. Just a friendly letter on the occasion of our meeting!
THE CARE AND FEEDING OF YOUR TINY TEN PERCENTER
The result of every meeting is duly observed and communicated to your agent or manager or lawyer or whoever it is who set it up. If it went badly, they will hear about it; if you tanked the pitch, it will be noted, and the report card of all your strengths and weak-nesses filed away for future reference.
It is all about the ongoing relationship with your representatives… and you are keeping tabs on them as well!
Since you have three best friends now — your new friend, the agent; your best bud, the manager; and your most favorite person in the whole wide world, your attorney — there's nothing wrong with keeping all of them on their toes. This is like the checks and balances of the Legislative, Executive, and Judiciary branches in the U.S. Government — though I will not say who is President in our Hollywood configuration. Often I have called up my lawyer when I have a problem with my agent. He then places a call and the problem is resolved. Got a glitch with your lawyer? Talk to the manager about it. He's there to help! Explain why you don't want that codicil added to your contract. It sounds so much better when your manager is telling your attorney than when you do. So let Mr. Stealth Producer know.
All of it is about the forwarding of your career and the generation of material that makes everyone keep being interested in you. This speaks to “getting you out of your box,” which usually comes when you're mid-career, have had numerous sales, rewrites, and co-ventures with others in your genre, but suddenly the phone stops ringing. You're in your box all right, and now the question becomes: Do you want to be buried in it?
We'll discuss more about this in the next chapter, with the “re-booting” process. Know for now that a good agent or manager will be cognizant of this too, and, like Tracey's Bollywood interest, be ready to expand your options.
Yet it all comes back to you.
It's simple! Your relationship with your agent is about the developing of your creative impulses and letting someone know about these in order to exploit them. There are all kinds of do's — three I have noted above. Here are some don'ts:
► Don't call up to chat! – If a rep wants a pal to “say hi” or “check in,” they will call one. This relationship isn't social; it's business. If you must call, have a point and make it brief. Most of all: Let them call you.
► Don't badmouth your agent – They're family — for now — and talking badly about one's
agent only reflects badly on you. Besides, there's no better way to help than to talk your agent up!
► Don't plot against your agent – You may think your little scheme for making a deal will impress your reps; it will only complicate matters. You do your job; let the agent make the sale.
But the number one “don't” I've found to be most helpful in my career and will italicize and even center here in hopes it makes an impact:
Don't… bitch.
Writers are whiners. It goes with the territory. In truth you have only one job: Plant your butt in the chair and write something. It's painful, I know. Occasionally your mind drifts. And what your mind drifts to, much of the time is: Why isn't my agent calling? Which leads to the next thought: My agent sucks.
And you are wrong.
Next time you have this thought, do what writer Stephen J. Cannell suggested to a group of writers at the 2008 Final Draft Screenwriting Contest, for which I was a judge. Cannell, who is the world's most successful TV show creator (The Rockford Files, The A-Team, and a host of others), is now also a prolific novelist, and I note, a family man, married to his high school sweetheart for 40 years. He also labored in the wilderness, one hand clapping, the other one typing, for six long years, getting rejection slips from everyone while he got better at his j-o-b (please stone me if I ever use the word “craft”). Even when he got an agent, and moved his family to Hollywood, he still had a hard time. Though we all know what a powerhouse writer he is now, no one knew it back then.
When Cannell did not get the job, or did not sell the script, he did something remarkable:
He'd take his agent to lunch and thank her.
Thank you for taking me on as your client! I know you are doing everything you can do for me — and I know I'm tough to sell. It's a tough marketplace. But you are the closest person to me in my professional life and I will do everything I can to help you do your job. You are my link to the film community. And I just want you to know I appreciate everything you're doing.
Can you imagine what an agent would do for a client after that conversation? Why she'd go out and kill for a guy like that!
So much better than calling up and mincing around, asking why it isn't going better? And why didn't you read that one-act play I sent you, and what about TV? And bitch, bitch, bitch.
If this describes you, no wonder your agent doesn't return your calls! Your reps do not care about your mortgage, or your daughter's braces, or the fact your wife will leave you if you don't find work. They have a job to do and they can only do it when you are helping them — so why aren't you?
Mumbling, murmuring, and complaining are, after all, what keeps us in the desert, waiting to be brought in for a happy landing. Part of the test of being in the wilderness is feeling stuck, but not giving in to being stuck. It can all change on a dime with the right attitude — and your attitude is one thing you can control!
So do it.
And when things are going well, say thanks! One of the most delightful things I ever did for my agent, Hilary Wayne, was to buy her a Rolex in honor of our first sale. She loved that thing! She showed everyone whenever we were out together, and it's one of my happiest memories of our relationship. I got to say: Thank you.
So when you feel you must call and complain, when you can't take it anymore, be productive instead: Write something.
CAREERS OUTSIDE THE 310
For those of you who don't live in Los Angeles, don't despair. These days, your career can be handled by using the Internet, mail, plane, and phone. In fact, you might actually do more work, and be less tempted to call, if you aren't down the street from your reps but across the country, or in another one, writing.
I have met many writers in my travels, working pros who've sold specs, done rewrites, and been very successful without ever leaving their hometown. One woman I met in Chicago began writing specs, and selling them, from the confines of her condominium. She did it all by email.
Another great success story is my Screenplayers.org buddy, Jamie Nash, who, from his hometown of Baltimore, has built a career as a writer of quirky sci-fi films like Altered (Rogue Pictures) and other assignments, as well as writing and directing his own short films. Jamie is another remarkable go-getter.
It still begs the question: How?
Well, it's the same. Write lots of specs. Get good at your job. Select a few contests — I recommend only a few — and get some feedback. Query groups like Triggerstreet and ScriptShark for better advice. Take a class online. Join a writer's group.
As you get better, pick a project you feel strongest about, get out your Hollywood Creative Directory, send out 100 emails, and see what you get back. (If you don't know what an email query is, reread Chapter One. See! Your skills have been improving just by buying this book.) Attend pitchfests — but don't go expecting to sell something, go to make contacts, get practice at pitching, and keep building up both your skills and your list of professional associates.
And keep doing the following:
► Commit to adding to your list of contacts every year.
► Keep coming up with high-concept ideas, vet them, write them, rewrite them, put them “on their feet” with a reading.
► And continue the process. Write. Sell. Repeat.
At some point, however, you will need to come out here to get the lay of the land. Anyone can plan a two or three-day trip to L.A., and you should. Try to set up meetings with those who have responded to your scripts or pitches, gang up as many as you can, and do them all. Everybody needs practice tear-assing across Laurel Canyon to get from a meeting in Beverly Hills to a busy producer in Burbank.
Why should you be the only one who hasn't?
And when you go back home, make notes of your meetings. No, you don't have to advertise the fact that you live out of town, as long as you are available, and can afford the plane trips between drafts of a script — plus the several emergency trips required to meet, just in case. You can get rewrite jobs, too.
Point is: If you are in the wilderness and want to get out, you have to take the steps. Don't wander in the desert, grumbling about your sad state. Do something. You have to do the work and be prepared to show up for your career with a positive attitude and a love of this adventure. And have no doubt: It is one.
Even when things are going badly.
Even when trouble comes at you in all new ways.
chapter 7
STRIKE BACK U.
Blake's Blog /June 19, 2008
“Failure is not an option for us. We are here to succeed. We are here to get closer to our goals by becoming better in the face of a ‘no.’ And that alone is a ‘yes’ I can proudly claim every hour of every day!”
Throughout our adventure, from the first Cat! book til now, I hope you've been encouraged by one truism that really is true:
There's always a solution.
I learned this as a youth by working with my aged screenwriting mentor, Mike Cheda, who calmly, and wisely, held to this notion. I was always in a hurry, impatient, forever forcing the binary: It worked or it didn't, now or never, black or white…
While Mike always clung to “maybe,” not enough information yet, and the certainty I hope this book resonates with: Given enough patience to find it, every story problem has an answer.
But is this also true of life?
We've bumped our noses against story trouble, the notes of others — some that we hate — and the challenge of finding and keeping sales reps that not only get our ideas, but get us, too.
We've seen, I hope, that hitting the wall is just the beginning; it's really where the fun starts and the true skill of writing kicks into gear. And I think I've proven the case that if you look at all writing dilemmas this way… you can't fail.
Now I'd like to go further out on a limb and say that these very same rules apply to navigating your way past the Scylla and Charybdi of Hollywood — the Greek myth equivalent of “da shit.” One of the nice things about my experience in Movie World
is I can share about hitting the wall at absolutely every stage of the profession. From breaking in, to the many ways to screw up along the way, the “dark night of the career” can be beaten, too.
It's how I earned my Masters degree from Strike Back U.
Strike Back University is the school of hard cheese here in Hollywood from which you don't get points for the quality of your work, or selling that big spec, but by rising up from the deck after you've been smacked down hard, and still manage to stand up smiling, ready to go at ‘em again. My very first instructor in this discipline was my Dad. His motto, whispered in my ear to the point of annoyance, was: “A Snyder never gives up!” And as an Emmy ® award-winning TV producer, he knew whereof he spoke.
He ingrained in me the will to get off the mat and come back swinging. A pioneer in children's television, my father walked an even scarier high-wire act than I ever have. Often it was only after the fact, when the show had been bought, or the first check was finally received, that he'd let the wife and kids know he'd had to mortgage the house as a stake against his latest venture.
His incredible career, filled with million-dollar paychecks and Peabody Awards, was a testament to the real family motto:
Whew!
We screenwriters have a much lower overhead. It's just the cost of paper, brads, and the patience of our loved ones. But the lessons we can derive from sampling the courses taught at Strike Back U. are still required.
So what do we offer here at Ol’ Cat?
BREAKING IN 101
Whenever my former writing partner, Sheldon Bull, was asked how he broke into the business, Sheldon's response was: “Late at night.” And there is still some truth to that. Strike Back U. welcomes freshmen. To be admitted to this most basic of first-term survey courses, we encourage you to write a lot of spec screenplays, learn about the business by studying trade journals such as Variety and The Hollywood Reporter, and sampling a summer reading list that includes What Makes Sammy Run?; Hello, He Lied; Breakfast With Sharks; and Adventures in the Screen Trade. Once admitted, you'll face tests that seem to have little to do with writing, but everything to do with career.