by Dean Orion
When we get to the Concept Document phase, my preference is to continue working together in the same room, possibly with a white board, while we further define all the high-level aspects of the story. Then one of us can go off and transcribe the notes and begin to write up the document, which we can then pass back and forth, editing until we’re happy with it.
At this point, it is still preferable to be in the same room so we can work on the structure and lay the foundation for the outline together. Otherwise, one partner tends to do more of the heavy lifting on the story than the other, which skews the creative equation a little too much in one person’s favor. (Not that you can’t make it work either way. I just find it a little more effective to do this work in person.) Then, once you reach the outline phase, you can pretty much work in separate locations the rest of the way, again passing documents back and forth until you’re satisfied with them.
When writing the actual script, I’ve found that the best way to ensure that each of your voices is being fairly represented is to write no more than a scene or two before you pass it back to your partner. You’ll also need to establish some ground rules at this point, governing how extensively each of you can rewrite the other. Here’s an arrangement that works particularly well:
As long as each writer remains consistent with the outline, all rewriting is fair. However, if either writer wants to do something that represents a significant departure from what has already been mutually agreed upon, then a conversation needs to take place before any blood can be drawn.
As you can imagine, this process can definitely get a little trying at times. Each partner can have a very different take on the nuances of how each character behaves, how each character sounds, and how a particular scene should go (even when you’ve agreed upon its placement and its content).
Regardless of the arrangement, one thing remains absolutely true:
You’ve got to be willing to compromise when you work with a writing partner.
You also have to be able to exercise a great deal of tolerance and patience—which means completely buying into we at the expense of me.
SURVIVAL GUIDE SUMMARY
10. Writing Partners
Things to Remember:
•Being in a writing partnership is like being in a marriage. It’s an intimate relationship that needs to be based on trust, mutual respect, and commitment.
•The partner process takes time to evolve. You have to work at it.
•It’s usually best to be in the same room with one another through the brainstorming, concept, and structuring phases.
•Once you begin outlining, it’s easier to be in separate spaces, passing documents back and forth.
•Remain passionate about your ideas, but always be willing to compromise with your partner.
Questions to Ask Yourself:
•Are you willing to give up creative ownership of the work and be a 50-50 partner in it?
•Are you prepared to negotiate every creative decision with your partner if necessary?
•Are you willing to sacrifice your own voice as a writer for the sake of the voice that emerges as a product of the partnership?
•What creative ground rules have you set for your process? Under what circumstances is it okay to rewrite your partner and vice versa?
•Are you dividing the workload equally? Try not to cross the 50-yard line too often.
11. Pitching Stories
Pitching a story really isn’t all that different from pitching any other kind of product. Sure, it’s a creative idea you’re talking about, so it’s a lot more glamorous than pitching a vacuum cleaner or a bottle of shampoo, but at the end of the day it’s still a sales pitch and you, as the writer, are the salesman—which, frankly, has always made me a bit uncomfortable.
“I’m not a salesman, damn it! I’m a writer!” I want to scream to the heavens every time I have to work on a pitch (and sometimes do). But like it or not, pitching is part of the job. At some point, it’s not enough to just lock yourself up in a dark room and crank out pages. You have to be able to verbally express your ideas to people, to give them confidence that you can go off and write that great script. So you might as well find a way to get good at this little dog-and-pony show or, at the very least, figure out an impressive way to fake it. (Just kidding. There is no way to fake it, really. So you better get good at it!)
Pitch Your Personality
When you walk into that room to pitch a story, the most important thing you’re selling is yourself. Like any other business meeting or job interview, your would-be buyers/employers are looking for talented people with exciting ideas, but first and foremost they’re looking for a person that they can work with, a person that they don’t mind talking to on the phone a couple times a day or whose name doesn’t make them shudder every time it appears in their e-mail. The only way to be that person is to be authentic. In other words:
You have to pitch in a way that’s consistent with your personality.
Here’s a perfect example. I have two very successful writer friends, one in film and the other in television. The film guy is very soft-spoken. He pitches like a fisherman with a secret. He starts off very quietly, then slowly reels his audience in as he carefully unspools his story, giving them one bite-size piece of information after the other, until he finally reveals all. The TV guy is the complete opposite. He pitches like a three-ring circus rolling into town: big, gregarious, colorful, and bursting at the seams with enthusiasm. Not that he’s blustery and loud. He’s not. It’s just a very energetic, get-your-popcorn-ready type of approach. Both styles are extremely effective, but not necessarily because they’re technically proficient (which they are). They’re effective because they’re authentic and they’re consistent with each writer’s personality.
My personality is much closer to my TV pal’s. I get very animated when I’m passionate about something, and nothing gets me more amped up than talking about a story, so I pretty much allow that excitement to come through when I pitch. Again, it’s all about being comfortable in your own skin. Beyond that, the key is to be really well prepared and have a good, solid framework through which you can both deliver the content and focus your energy, regardless of your style or approach.
A Pitch Is a Performance
Pitching is very much like acting. It’s a performance, a little piece of theater in which the character that you’re playing is you. So when I say you need to be well prepared and have a framework, what I really mean is you need to know what you’re going to say, and like an actor, you need to rehearse and deliver your lines as if they’re coming out of your mouth for the very first time.
Does this mean you should write yourself an actual script just for the pitch? If you feel it will help you, absolutely. It all depends on what you’re comfortable with and also, to some degree, the specifics of the particular project.
I’ve written myself pitch scripts at times, but generally I tend to prefer to write it in my head as I talk it through to myself, over and over, and commit it to memory. I find that I’m a little less attached to the specific words when I do it that way, and a little more focused on the beats of the story and the big ideas. I also feel that this technique makes it a bit easier to pick up where I left off after being interrupted, which will happen in almost every pitch meeting.
Either way, whether you write yourself a script or just write it in your head, you have to know the material backward and forward.
Pitching with Partners
Pitching with a partner (or multiple partners) allows you to enjoy many of the same advantages that writing with a partner does, the greatest of which is that you don’t have to carry the whole load by yourself. Even if you’re a great pitchman, it’s always nice to have that other person in the room to play off of. Two or more voices are also much easier on the ear of the listener than one because of the natural variety in tone and inflection that’s created. The trick is to alternate speaking at palatable intervals, which means you
really have to be on the same page and know who is going to say what and when. In other words:
You have to be working from the same script.
Fortunately, most of the people that I’ve developed projects with over the years have shared this approach to partner pitching, but there was one occasion when it was definitely put to the test.
Not too long ago I was pitching an interactive project in which I had two partners. The project also involved demonstrating some innovative technology designed for live performances, so it wasn’t exactly like pitching a television show or a movie, but the same principles apply. We needed to sell our personalities in the room, we needed to tell an engaging story, and above all, we needed to work together with precision and give a good performance. The problem was that one of my partners wasn’t too keen on rehearsing. Not that he was lazy or didn’t care. In fact, he was very committed. He just didn’t have that much experience pitching and felt that rehearsing would cause us to lose our freshness. He didn’t quite get the concept of being a well-rehearsed actor, and insisted on just winging it. So the third guy and I rehearsed our parts as best we could without him. Sure enough, when we got into the room, guess which one of us got flustered and stumbled over his words?
The last thing you want to happen in a pitch meeting is to look unsure of yourself. Even if you actually know the material cold and just have a momentary lapse, the instant that happens it puts a seed of doubt in the buyer’s mind about whether or not you can do the job. So why take that chance? Why not do everything in your power ahead of time to prevent that from happening?
One bad experience was all it took to make my interactive pal a believer. The next time out, he was much more amenable to rehearsing his part and, not surprisingly, came off much more confident in the meeting.
Be Open and Flexible
I don’t want to be a buzz killer here, but it wouldn’t be very forthright of me if I didn’t tell you that the majority of your pitches will probably not result in a happy ending. It’s a sobering fact, I know, especially given how much of a writer’s heart and soul goes into telling a good story, but as any salesman will tell you, pitching is a numbers game. You have to get a lot of people to say “no” before someone says “yes.”
The thing about pitching in the entertainment business that makes this fact even more maddening is that the decision to buy or not is highly subjective and unpredictable. There are so many factors beyond just the merits of what you’re offering that go into it: for example, what the company already has in development, if there’s a budget to buy your pitch, what is currently working in the marketplace, etc. And sometimes when you do get that “yes,” it doesn’t come exactly the way you expected. That’s why it’s so important to be open and flexible, and ready for anything that happens in the room that might even lead to a yes.
Here’s another story for you that illustrates this point. After I had written an episode of a television show called The Invisible Man, the producers were so happy with the job I’d done for them they asked me to come back in and pitch another one. This obviously didn’t guarantee me another sale, but naturally I was very excited and immediately shifted my brain into overdrive to come up with that next great pitch.
Now you remember my buddy, the acupuncturist, who lets me use his office? Here’s a case where not only was the environment a wonderful creative cocoon that allowed me to do my best work, it also gave me the perfect idea.
In the show the main character, Darien Fawkes, has a synthetic gland implanted in his brain by a secret government agency. The gland allows Darien to turn invisible but it’s not without its glitches, as he can’t always control his invisibility. My idea was that, during a mission, Darien wrenches his back and subsequently goes for acupuncture in a desperate attempt to both heal himself and alleviate the pain. But when the acupuncturist puts the needles in him, she inadvertently stimulates the gland and discovers that she can control it—which inevitably leads to no good.
As always, I put as much work into the story as time would allow, diligently prepared, and then went in and pitched my heart out. From the get-go all the writers in the room responded to the idea, but when I was done the executive producer said: “All right, forget everything he said after the word ‘acupuncturist,’ and let’s see if there’s actually a story here that we can use.”
At that point it would have been very easy for me to let my bruised ego do the talking, to just keep trying to convince them the material I’d prepared was in fact worthy of another episode. A younger version of me may very well have done that. Actually, younger versions of me did do that, which is why this time I made sure I’d learned from my previous mistakes. This time I played it smart. I knew I had a “yes.” It may not have been the “yes” I’d wanted or expected, but it was definitely a “yes.” All I had to do to close the deal was know when to shut up.
To make the sale I’d have to settle for selling the idea and not the exact story I’d pitched. So, rather than being defensive and possibly end up talking them out of saying “yes,” wasn’t it better to let my pitch basically be the first draft and let the brainstorm that was now occurring in the meeting be the first revision?
This calculation turned out to be right on the money. The pitch was successful. I got the job. Not only that, they bought the next two episodes I pitched them. Why? Because I pitched my personality, I was always well prepared, and I was open and flexible enough to let that “yes” take whatever form it was going to take.
Know Your Audience
Another very important part of pitching involves not just pitching your personality, but also understanding the personality of the person you’re pitching to. Obviously, if you’ve never met the person before, there’s no way of knowing what they’re like, but if you’ve had the chance to get to know them even a little bit, then you owe it to yourself to specifically tailor your pitch to the aspects you know they will respond to (to whatever extent that’s possible).
Recently I was working on a project at Walt Disney Imagineering, which is the part of Disney that builds the theme parks, and found myself pitching to an executive I’d pitched to several times before. Now, because WDI has such a tried-and-true creative process and such a rich tradition, you typically follow a certain protocol when you pitch there, using a style of storytelling that is very unique to what they do.
In this case, however, I didn’t feel confident the traditional approach would work. Why? Because this particular executive is extremely adept at figuring out what you’re going to say ahead of time and, once he does, tends to cut you off before you’ve had a chance to fully explain it. This doesn’t mean he’s no longer interested in your concept. It’s just that in the blink of an eye, he’s two steps ahead of you, which inevitably leaves you scrambling to get out from behind the eight ball.
I knew the standard dog-and-pony show wasn’t going to work this time, so instead, I decided to bring in three people who were supporting me on the project and use them to tell my story. Rather than formally pitching, I kept the whole thing conversational, sort of backing into each part of the pitch by saying something like: “John and I were discussing the first part of the experience, and his idea, which I really liked, was to do X, Y, and Z.” We’d then talk about that aspect of the project for a while, and then I’d somewhat stealthily move on to the next part of the pitch by steering the discussion in the direction of another one of my supporting players.
The resulting conversation was not only very enlightening, but also very effective, as I kept this very smart executive engaged in the story throughout the entire meeting, and most importantly, convinced him to provide funding for another round of development on the project.
SURVIVAL GUIDE SUMMARY
11. Pitching Stories
Things to Remember:
•Pitching is a necessary evil. You must be able to express your ideas verbally as well as on paper in order to give potential employers confidence that you can do the job.
•
The most important thing you’re selling when pitching a story is yourself. So pitch your personality.
•A pitch is a performance in which you are both the actor and the main character.
•Memorize your pitch, then perform it as though you’re saying the words for the first time, just like a good actor.
•Hone your pitch so you use as few words as possible. Try to make it no longer than 10 to 15 minutes.
•When pitching with a partner, figure out ahead of time exactly who is going to say what and when.
•Be open and flexible. Anything can happen once you get in the room.
Questions to Ask Yourself:
•What’s your natural storytelling style? Are you big and gregarious? Quiet and soft-spoken?
•How do you tell stories to your friends or family members in everyday life? Develop an approach that is similar.
•Is there a hook to your pitch you can use to start it off right? A personal anecdote, for example, or a metaphor that frames the theme of your story and sets the tone for the rest of the pitch?
•Which parts of your story can be edited out in your verbal presentation? Look hard at each beat as you rehearse and only include what’s absolutely necessary.
•Who are you pitching to? Have you pitched to them before? Tailor your pitch to receive the most favorable response possible.
12. Writing for Hire