Travels

The first time I went to a foreign country was right after college. My girlfriend at the time was an ROTC army scholar who was surprised upon graduation with an active duty assignment in Panama, Central America. I flew to see her, but we mostly stayed on the army base. We ventured out once, saw some sights, but really, I was a pretty fearful traveler back then.

My feelings on traveling changed quite a bit when back in the summer of ’98 when my improv troupe THEM toured the Canadian Fringe Festival circuit for two months. I quit my job, put everything I owned in storage, and climbed into a van with my four best friends to drive to another country and perform comedy all summer. We had no idea what to expect but were rewarded with the most amazing experience of our lives up until that point. Seriously, our time in Montreal, Ottowa, Toronto, and Winnipeg deserves more than a blog post. Suffice to say, we came back changed. I still had some work to accomplish in my home town of Orlando, but now my eyes had been opened to the fact that the world was a much bigger place than I knew.

If you work long enough in the entertainment industry, you’ll get some opportunities to travel abroad. Sometimes it’s for work. Other time, it’s a trip you can afford to take because of work. I discuss my travels not to incite jealousy, but to share the inspiration they have brought me.

My first film was shot in Mexico City. I was there for 6 weeks with my friend and director/co-writer Jieho Lee. I arrived pretty nervous, but learned that something very cool happens when you shoot a movie in another country: all the locals want you to fall in love with their home. And it worked. Mexico CIty is a big, crowded, dirty place, that is also strangely beautiful. It will always have a warm place in my heart.

Because of Jieho, I got to visit Seoul, South Korea twice. Once for his wedding, once as the guest of the local film commission. Both trips were stunning, eye-opening experiences.

Summer of ’08, I was in the first year of a two-year long distance relationship with my lady, Jen. Along with a small group of  good friends, we took a two week trip to Italy and Greece, where we traveled through Venice, Florence, Rome, Mykonos, and Athens.  There were amazing sights, so much legendary artwork that I could barely wrap my brain around it, and of course, some of the best meals of my life.

Since then, Jen and I have traveled to Cozumel, which in turn led us to visit Playa del Carmen, a beautiful Mexican community south of Cancun. There are no beheadings down that way, but still, I try not to tell my Mom when we’re traveling there.

Just recently, Jen and I returned to Europe. This time, we went to Amsterdam, Paris, and Barcelona. Again, there were stunning sights, mind-blowing art, and the food…oh God, the food.

Again, I write of this not to incite jealous rage. I do it because if your bucket list doesn’t include visiting some iconic foreign cities, then I would recommend rewriting that bucket list. Seriously, go to other countries, any chance you can.  See the greatest art in the world. Soak up the monuments. Meet the locals, eat what they eat, drink coffee the way they drink it. Be humble. Open yourself up to what makes their country special. The world is an amazing place and every artist should really see it. It will change you, and your art, forever.

I’m a long way from that nervous kid just out of college who was scared to walk around Panama. I was still a little nervous in Paris one night as Jen and I strolled along the Seine on our way to dinner, but this time I had a good reason. Before Jen knew it, we were on one of the most romantic bridges in Paris…and that’s when I asked her to marry me. She said yes, and now, we’re off an entirely new adventures. I can’t wait to see where it takes us next.

Pro-Am

In every screenwriter’s career, there’s the moment when you’re a good enough writer to have sold a screenplay, even good enough to be hired to write one on assignment, but…it just hasn’t happened yet. You’re caught in that wide chasm between being an amateur and being a professional. You’re Pro-Am.

And into this chasm flows a steady stream of producers and directors looking for a skilled screenwriter to write them a screenplay. For free. Or what they like to call, “deferred pay”, which means you get paid when the movie gets made. Which is a fancy way of saying, uh, free.

So here’s my thoughts on doing free work, take it or leave it.

Free work is doing work you should be paid for but receiving no pay. Here are some examples of what is NOT free work:

1) Finding a writer of your approximate skill level who’s excited in the same things you are and deciding to co-write a script together.

2) Collaborating with a group of friends to produce a short film or a web series or even a no-budget feature where no one’s getting paid.

3) Writing sketch comedy for a live show or doing improv or submitting a one-act play to a theater for possible inclusion in their upcoming show.

Those are just some examples, but you get the idea. If everyone involved is passionate about the project and not getting paid, then that is not free work. It’s still hard work but that’s okay, because it is your art, your training ground, the work you do as an amateur to build the chops that will turn you into a professional.

Here is what I consider free work: a producer or director has a great idea for a movie and wants you to write it for free and then when he or she sets the movie up with a studio or with financiers, you will then get paid and have profit participation in the movie. It’s the kind of work that the producer/director would PREFER to pay someone for but they just don’t have the money. But they still need a quality writer so they come to you, the Pro-Am writer. Maybe they loved that play your wrote or read your script on an online service or perhaps your short film won an award at a festival. But what it comes down to is they are asking you to put aside whatever projects you are working on and put your time and budding talent into their project. And for no money. Possibly ever.

Here’s the deal: sometimes this is okay. And sometimes it is a nightmare that you will regret. When you’re a professional, you have representatives (agents, managers) who help you decide whether or not a “free-work” opportunity is worth your time. But if you’re Pro-Am, then you have to figure it out on your own. So here’s some thoughts on how to do it.

In writing something for free, you are bringing a lot of value to the table. You are bringing both your unique writer’s voice and your knowledge of screenwriting craft that you’ve cultivated over years of taking classes, reading books, and  scripts. Plus, you’re also giving your time.

So, what you have to do is decide what value the producer or director is bringing to the table. Usually, it’s the idea, the concept for the movie. “I’ve been dying to make a movie about a gang of thieves who blah blah.” In addition, they’re also bringing their passion.

Okay, fine. But so far, you’re bringing more. And here’s why: ideas really are a dime a dozen. Yes, I know that now more than ever, ideas are king in Hollywood. Having an amazing concept for a movie is the only way to get anything made. But listen, EVERYONE has ideas. You have ideas. If you’re working hard, putting in the time, writing script after script, and are truly Pro-Am, then your ideas are as good as anyone’s. And if your concepts are NOT any good…then you should practice at it, get better, because if you are beholden to a producer to bring you a good idea, then that path to being a professional is going to be a long, lonely one.

Then there’s passion. Whatever. If you’re not passionate about writing screenplays, then quit. Now. Do something else. Anything else. This business is way to hard to attack it with anything less than complete passion.

So assuming you have good ideas and you’re passionate about writing movies, then what is the person who wants you to work for free bringing to the table?

Generally, hopefully, it’s access. When you’re Pro-Am, you can’t get your scripts to the companies that finance movies or the movie stars who act in them or the agents who package them. Producers promise access to these people. A director may have access to these people, but needs a script to actually direct if she wants a movie to happen.

And herein is the problem. Because some people really have access and some people are full of shit. So what are you looking for?

In a producer, you’re looking for credits on real movies. Recent movies. You’re looking for offices in a nice part of Los Angeles. You’re looking for this producer to have lots of ideas of who to approach once the script is ready. Here’s what you DON’T want to hear:

“My brother-in-law’s cousin is an exec at Warner Brothers and I pitched him this idea at a wedding and he loves it but needs to see a script…”

Even if this is true, this is not producing. This is a possible lead. But it is not a lead worth gambling lots and lots of time on. You want a producer with real relationships at agencies and studios. Somebody who can get on the phone and talk to people who matter in this business. If a producer has only one “in” then he is not a producer. Not yet.

When it comes to a director, here’s what makes a real director: they direct. A lot. They have a body of work. Short films, web series, whatever. A vision. Charisma. There are plenty of people who say they are a director, have a fantastic idea, want you to write it for them (becuase they can’t write) and when it’s done, want to take it out with them attached, but they haven’t directed ANYTHING. This is not a director. This is a dreamer who wants you to do the hard work to make THEIR dream come true.

Here’s two examples from my own career where doing free work actually paid off:

The first script I ever optioned was an indie crime-drama that I optioned to a producer buddy of mine back in Orlando who had exactly one short film under his belt at the time. In hindsight, I was crazy to think that this guy had any value to bring to the table. But I took a chance. And wouldn’t you know it, what this guy lacked in experience, he more than made up for in perseverance. In less than a year, he had real indie actors attached to star in my little script. When the option expired, he found the money to pay me to keep the rights. He brought value to the table. We never did get to make that movie, but it was my first optioned script and my buddy has now produced (and directed) many projects.

When I first moved to Los Angeles, I invited a director I met through the Florida Film Festival to  come see my evening of one act plays. Jieho Lee had directed an award-winning Sundance short and several music videos and upon seeing my plays, he asked me to co-write his debut feature with him. I decided to take a chance. Two year later, we had a finished script that people really liked. But the moment of truth was when Jieho started sitting down with actors. if he hadn’t won them over, the hard work would’ve been in vain. But Jieho has vision and charisma to spare. He pitched his heart out and in the end, on a budget of $10 million, he directed Kevin Bacon, Forest Whitaker, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Andy Garcia, and Brendan Fraser in “The Air I Breathe”. I didn’t get paid until roughly four years after we started writing together. I worked for free for quite a while. But I believed Jieho was worth the investment of time and passion, and I was right.

Again, knowing who to bet on isn’t easy. I did free work for producers and directors that didn’t go anywhere, that was a waste of my time. But honestly, no writing is a waste of time, even if it’s just working on your craft, learning hard lessons that you’ll carry with you into the next opportunity.

So when a producer or director wants you to work for free, first of all: assume any deferred money will equal zero dollars and then you can be pleasantly surprised if anything comes from it. Then take a good hard look at the person asking for the free work and consider the value that she’s bringing to the table. If her value equals or exceeds what you’re bringing, then write like the wind. But if all they have is an idea and a friend of a friend of a friend who knows someone…then maybe think twice about offering up your talent and time to what is truly the lowest bidder.

And just remember: every professional writer started out as an amateur, which means every one of us has had to navigate what it means to be Pro-Am. It’s not easy, but it’s part of the journey. And trust me, getting past it is a fantastic feeling. Good luck.

Finale

My lady Jen and I watch a decent amount of TV shows together. From the pilot on, we were fans of USA’s “White Collar”. During the first season, I was at the Office Depot near our house and waited in line behind Agent Burke himself, Tim DeKay. I told him how much we loved his show and he was so thankful. He asked if I was in the business and I told him about my script “Five Killers” that was nearing production. He congratulated me and we parted ways. It was really the nicest “celeb” encounter I’ve ever had.

After the retitled “Killers” came out, I pitched a couple of TV ideas around town. People really liked me and my ideas, but something was missing in my pitches and I wasn’t selling. To better understand the form, I wrote a spec pilot in 2011. My agents were excited about the script and sent it out. I got plenty of “we love this but can’t buy it” responses, which resulted in several general meetings. One of those meetings was with an exec at Fox Television Studios, the studio behind “White Collar”. We shared our affection for the show and he offered to show my pilot to show-creator Jeff Eastin.

I know how things work. The chances of my script moving up the ladder onto Jeff’s desk was not something to bet the farm on. But wouldn’t you know it, several months later, Jeff was about to enter production on both season 4 of “White Collar” and the pilot for his new show “Graceland”. They decided to add one person to the writers room and I was asked to interview for the position. And that’s how I came to work on “White Collar”.

Last year was a whirlwind. I went form working in my home office and setting my own schedule to showing up at the writers room five days a week and working my ass off with an outstanding team of writers. I was lucky enough to go to New York to help cover the episode I co-wrote. Hanging out near craft services, drinking coffee on a rainy day, I told Tim DeKay about our meeting all those years ago, a meeting he faintly remembered. Life’s funny sometimes. I complimented a star on his excellent new show, having no idea I’d be working on that very show years later.

My stay at “White Collar” was a short one, only the one season. Now I’m back in my home office, writing a feature script and developing some new TV ideas. Tonight is the season 4 finale, the last episode I’ll be credited on. Working on “White Collar” was a beautiful accident and I’m deeply grateful for my time there. From the crash-course in making great television to the friendships I made, it was truly a blessing.

And now I get to be a fan again. I know how season 4 ends, but season 5 is a mystery. I can’t wait to see what happens.

Making Stuff

I moved to Los Angeles in 2001, and began making a living as a screenwriter a year and a half later. Got my first movie made in 2006, my second movie in 2009. All in all, I’d spent about a decade making a living as a screenwriter with two produced credits to show for it, something I am VERY proud of.

Getting any movie made is an impossible journey. Movies are expensive. They’re hard to get right.  At the executive level, a sure-fire way to lose your job is to say “yes” to a movie that doesn’t do well. Only slightly less dangerous is to say “no” to a movie that does great for another studio. What this reinforces is a culture of “maybe”. As in, maybe they’ll read it, maybe they’ll pass it up to their boss, maybe they’ll buy it, maybe they’ll hire a director, maybe maybe maybe. It can be maddening, which is why, whenever something actually gets MADE, when enough maybes are dodged, when enough people say yes, it’s a flat-out miracle.

In 2011, I wrote my first spec TV pilot which, in a crazy round-about way, led to my first job in TV, as a story editor for one of my favorite shows WHITE COLLAR. The best thing about this gig was getting to work with a warm, funny, ultra-talented team of writers who know a hell of a lot about writing television. So all the time, I would ask them a gazillion questions about TV. In return, they would ask me questions about the feature world. I could write many blogs (and probably will) on the differences between writing TV and writing movies. But far and away, the most important difference between the two worlds is simple: the movie industry doesn’t seem like it really wants to make stuff, while in television, they TOTALLY want to make stuff.

Once a show is picked up and put on the air, the clock starts ticking. Episodes must be written, re-written, put through the ringer of notes, rewritten again, shot, edited, all because on a particular day at a certain time, SOMETHING has gotta be on those airwaves. It is a stunning difference. Features are a culture of maybe, while television is a culture of YES, C’MON, LET’S MOVE, FASTER! Now this kind of schedule creates it’s own craziness but compared to the “hurry up and wait” mentality of features, it’s a dream.

I started in the WHITE COLLAR writers room a few weeks late, and show-creator Jeff Eastin and his writers were already well on their way to “breaking” the season. But there was still plenty to do. I worked with the other writers breaking story, writing outlines, reading and giving notes on drafts. But late in the season, I got a surprise. I was assigned an episode to co-write with the excellent Matt Negrete. And that episode, titled “Shoot the Moon”, airs this coming Tuesday night, February 19th, on the USA network.

So in February 2012, I started working in television, and one year later, I have my first produced credit on the air. That fast of a turnaround is a dream for a writer who spent ten years working in the land of maybes.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love movies and want to make them. But there are things to love about TV, and number one on the list: television is all about getting stuff made. And this Tuesday, I can proudly say…I helped make some stuff. Check it out if you can.

We’re not knitting here

I’ve been taking Kenpo karate for over four years now. The dojo where I train is a special place. When new students begin, movements are very slow and no one’s getting hit. As the years progress, the “gradient” increases. Gradient can mean both speed and the amount of force you can take. I’m a green belt now, and that is when things get serious. We’re moving at “combat speed” and we’re learning to take real hits. We have several drills where we’re not supposed to make contact, but every once in a while, you take a hit from a fellow student when you weren’t expecting one. When this happens, our Sensei often says:

“We’re not knitting here.”

Which brings me to screenwriting and the entertainment industry in general. In the beginning, you’re working on your craft, doing little indie projects or student films. But eventually, you get that first opportunity and you enter the professional world. And here’s the truth: in Hollywood, there are no gradient checks. There’s no Sensei looking over you, making sure things aren’t moving too fast, or the hits are ones you can take. The constant rejection, the terrible notes, the people who lead with their ego instead of their creative selves…the hits start coming and really, never stop. Even if you’re a proven screenwriter, even when there’s money in the bank, being a professional is never easy.

The difference is that in martial arts, you’re given tools to deal with getting hit. You learn how to dig deep inside yourself and face things you never thought you could handle before.

In the entertainment industry, no one teaches you how to defend yourself against the hits that come at you full speed, whether you’re ready or not. When a studio says they love your script, then have it rewritten into mediocrity? There is no block for that. These kinds of hits make people jaded. It makes people leave the business.

What are the defenses? Generally, it’s experience, a toughening of the skin. But that is a very difficult way to do it. I get hit in the chest a lot, but that’s not a place you build up callouses. So how do you take care of yourself in such a crazy business?

That’s a lot of what I want to start talking about in this blog. I think a lot of people defend themselves by building walls, lashing out, becoming jerks. I think there’s a better way.  Living a creatively fulfilling life that’s also financially rewarding is not easy, not at all. But it’s worth it. As long as we remember:

“We’re not knitting here.”

Who You Know

There’s an often-said phrase that is guaranteed to break the hearts of aspiring writers everywhere. I heard it again recently. Actually, I think it was a Twitter-chat, so I read it. But I could here the pain in the writer’s voice:

“It really is ‘who you know’ isn’t it?”

The “it” he was referring to was “breaking into Hollywood”. And yes, it is “who you know”…but let’s face it: EVERY business in the entire world is “who you know”. Generally, the only people who are bummed by the “who you know” realities of Hollywood are people who don’t know anyone.

We can divide the people who don’t know anyone in Hollywood into two groups:

1) People who don’t live in Los Angeles

2) People who do.

If you don’t live in Los Angeles, I’ll admit it’s much harder to get to know people in the entertainment industry. But it is far from impossible. Since I live here, this is not my expertise. But if you want some insight, do yourself a favor and check out Screenwriting From Iowa…and other unlikely places. Also, read Austin Kleon’s amazing book How To Steal Like An Artist and pay special attention to Chapter 7: Geography is no longer our master.

But if you live in Los Angeles and don’t “know anyone”, there’s really no excuse. More importantly, there’s no excuse to have a bad attitude about it. What fuels our bad attitude about this? As with many things in Hollywood, it’s the language we choose to describe something.

When people face the dreaded “who they know”, I feel they’re looking at their general lack of “contacts”, or “people in the industry who can help my career”. Used in a sentence, someone might say, “I’m going to a networking event so I can meet some new contacts”.

I just threw up in my mouth a little. I hope you did, too. Let’s never, EVER say that above sentence again, okay? In fact, let’s stop using the word “contacts” altogether. I prefer two different words:

Friends. And fans.

If you live in Los Angeles, then it is virtually impossible to have friends that aren’t connected to the entertainment industry in some way. Your friend may not be J.J. Abrams, but if you live here, you’ll most likely have a circle of friends that share your interests and ambitions.

I moved here from Orlando where almost all of my friends were aspiring actors, writers, and filmmakers. And almost all of those friends moved here, too. So I instantly had a huge community of like-minded friends who were all in the same boat as me: we were all broke, deeply desiring to somehow make a living doing what we love. But we hunkered down and worked hard. Now, over eleven years later, most of those friends are still here. Some have jobs outside the entertainment industry. Some are TV showrunners, working actors, successful screenwriters, busy directors, and one is even the co-host for one of the longest running game shows in television history.

Yes, I was blessed with a rich community of friends when I moved out here. But that didn’t stop me from making plenty of new friends, and wouldn’t you know it, now I have friends in nearly every corner of the industry, including plenty of friends at a great theater where I get to play from time to time.

Do friends lead to work? Absolutely. An example that happened to a writer I know: he worked in children’s television years ago with a good buddy of his from college. That college friend is now running a hit TV show and called this writer and offered him a job. Is that an instance of “who you know”? Sure, but it’s also an instance of two friends who found a way to work together because working with your friends is FUN. Now, if this writer was lousy, we could all bitch and complain together. But he’s great. Which bring us to the other word I mentioned: fans.

If you’re good at what you do, if you work very hard to get better, and if you’re a nice person to be around, then you will cultivate what I like to call “fans”. Anytime an executive enjoys one of my scripts, calls me in for a general meeting, and we hit it off, I consider that executive a “fan”. Out of that initial round of thirty general meetings I had ten years ago, I feel I made 5 or 6 real fans. One of them gave me my first job in Hollywood and we’re still in touch to this day. Since then, I’ve made more fans in the industry, including producers, directors, and executives.

Of course, the ultimate goal is for your friends and fans to be one in the same. Two of my best friends created the incredibly successful web series Written By A Kid for the red-hot web channel Geek & Sundry. They are my friends, but I am also their biggest fan. I will tell anyone who will listen about their show and if I’m ever head of a network, they will have an hour of primetime a week to do whatever they please. Then again, when internet content overtakes television someday, I could be working for them. The point is: if you and your friends are mutual fans, then it makes perfect sense to work together someday. Why not make a lot of money and do it working with friends whose work you admire? I can’t imagine a better working life in Hollywood.

Now, I’ve been at this for a while. And if you’re just starting out, the mountain of “who you know”  seems to be a formidable one to climb, hopeless really. But remember that pretty much everyone starts out not knowing anyone. But anyone can make friends. And EVERYONE can work hard and make fans.

So first things first: let’s stop worrying about “who you know” and start enjoying a creative life filled with friends and fans. I promise that the “who you know” part of it will take care of itself.

Shortcuts

I wrote my first few screenplays in college. They sucked. Then I moved back home to Orlando, Florida. Started doing improv, took some acting classes, made a couple short films. Wrote some more screenplays. They were better.

I moved to Los Angeles in 2001 with two solid indie samples. My manager at the time encouraged me to try writing a big studio spec. The resulting script got me my first agent and over thirty general meetings, which led to my first OWA (open writing assignment) for a studio. At the same time, I co-wrote “The Air I Breathe” with director Jieho Lee. It was probably my 15th or 16th feature screenplay, and the first one to get made.

My 23rd script was an original spec called “Five Killers”. Lionsgate bought it, made it, and shortened the title to “Killers“. Since then, I’ve written a half-dozen scripts. Some of them have garnered interest but none have been sold yet.

All in all, I’ve made money off of nine of my screenplays, including options, sales, and OWA’s for a few studios. I’ve made a living as a screenwriter for over ten years. Last year, for the first time, I made money writing for both film and television.

Now, I’m working on a brand new feature screenplay. My 30th.

The point is: there are no shortcuts. Cinderella-stories of writers selling their first script for seven figures is not the rule. It’s a dream sold by magazines and websites that thrive on people believing in the reality of a shortcut to Hollywood success.

There are no shortcuts. There is only hard work. Perseverance. Luck. Craft. Failure. Success. Mistakes. And yes, dreams that come true.

But shortcuts? Don’t count on it.

Now, back to number 30 for me.