How Eric Heisserer Pitches

Today I am featuring a guest blogger: Eric Heisserer. Eric wrote and directed The Hours, starring Paul Walker. He also wrote the 2011 The Thing, Final Destination 5, and the 2010 version of The Nightmare on Elm Street, plus the upcoming Story of Your Life. I asked Eric to describe his pitching process to get quotes for the second edition of The Hollywood Pitching Bible. His approach was so interesting I asked if I could use it as a blog post. He kindly gave permission. So here is how Eric pitches:

I despise pitching. I used to say I preferred writing on spec to pitching because I felt the proof is always in the writing, but that was just a clever excuse draped over my anxiety in the room with executives staring at me intently. Like everything, repetition and practice has made it bearable. You improve by doing something over and over. And if you're looking to make screenwriting a career, you have to accept that you'll work up a hundred pitches (or more) in your tenure.

Here is what I do for a pitch now: I use visual aids. Note cards. I find a dozen or so images that really speak to the look and feel or the tone of the project I'm pitching, and sometimes I'll even "dream" cast the movie or TV project, selecting photos of actors that most closely fit their characters. I avoid using much text on the cards, because as I've learned you don't want your audience reading what's on the card instead of paying attention to your story. The one vital element I include on the cards? Character names. Execs hear an absurd number of pitches per week, plus they have a ton of projects going, and so it's difficult for them to remember who your hero is versus the villain or the love interest. Having a quick reference (with a photo of an actor beside it) is helpful for them.

The cards are helpful for me, too. If I veer off-topic or forget my place, I can look down at the next photo or concept art in my stack and pick up where I left off. Occasionally I will break out a story pitch by sequence, laying down a couple of visual cards for every sequence in the movie (typically 7-10), but if I'm not working with sequences, I make sure to announce at regular intervals what page we're on in the story. This puts the audience at ease, because they've been stuck in pitch meetings before that drone on for twenty minutes until the writer mentions "all of that is backstory, here is where the movie starts." Execs want signposts so they know where they are within the narrative.

Finally, I've come to realize I can't pitch on something unless I have a personal, emotional connection to it somehow. A story from my own youth. A main character drawn from my father or in-law. An event that changed my life or the life of a loved one. It's critical your audience understands where your heart is with the story, they don't want it to be merely business. Or to put it this way: If two writers come in and pitch, and both takes are competent, the one who demonstrates why it matters to them or how it's based on a personal story will get the job, because it suggests the material will be written with passion and emotional drive otherwise missing from the other take. Whether this is true or not, it's how many execs operate, and it's how I've come to realize I write best.

Of course, sometimes your greatest tool in a pitch can be rendered useless, so try to find out the circumstances of the pitch meeting beforehand. Since I use note cards with visuals, I make sure not to pitch over the phone, but one time, for a project at Dimension Films, I was brought into a conference room where three execs were ready to hear my pitch... along with the head of the company via Skype on a TV screen at the end of the room. He was the one I had to impress, and he had no way of seeing the cards. Furthermore, the connection wasn't the greatest, and when he talked to me the transmission would clip parts of his words, which meant that's likely how he heard my entire pitch.

Needless to say, I didn't get that job.

Thanks Eric! You may wish to follow Eric on twitter - his handle is @HIGHzurrer

And now about the aforementioned 2nd edition of The Hollywood Pitching Bible - it is now available on Amazon! (eBook editions should become available in the next few weeks). The new, expanded 2nd edition includes:

-More information on pitching for producers and directors
-Expanded section on pitching for television
-More sample pitches
-Expanded section on pitching for assignments
-Anecdotes of successful movie and television pitches from the creators who sold them
And much more!

Horror Scenes - The Thing

(SPOILERS: The Thing)

I’ll continue my series analyzing scary scenes with one of the best scenes from the 1982 version of The Thing (screenplay by Bill Lancaster) – the blood test scene. Someone’s posted a clip of it on You Tube. Note that The Thing is a remake of a 1951 movie. And you probably know that a prequel, written by my friend Eric Heisserer, is now in theaters!

In this scene, MacReady and another man have tied up most of the surviving members of the Antarctic base crew. MacReady has a theory about a way to determine who’s the alien by testing the reaction of blood to a hot wire.

The situation is naturally tense. We feel for the people tied up. Those that are human are helpless to defend themselves. And even though MacReady and another man are free, they will not have any help once the creature is revealed. The monster in The Thing plays into a common horror movie theme: not knowing who is trustworthy. If you can’t trust anyone, you are alone.

Like the previous scenes I’ve looked at, we once again have a slow build up of tension. The test itself is brilliantly slow. Someone has to get close to each person to collect a blood sample. Then the wire has to be slowly heated. They test each person in order, needing to reheat the wire each time, building suspense over who might be the monster. By the time it reveals itself, we’re wound so tight we jump.

There’s also a moral subtext here – two members of the crew have been killed. MacReady tests their blood, and we discover they were human. MacReady has unintentionally killed an innocent man. Again, trust is called into question. Can MacReady even trust his own decisions?

Then the Thing is revealed. There’s a great, subtle moment here – MacReady is in the process of accusing Garry when he tests the blood that first reacts. The accusation distracts us from the test, pointing us forward (MacReady has just told Garry, “We’ll do you last.”). So when Palmer’s blood jumps out of the Petri dish, we’re caught off guard, even though we’ve been expecting it. The writer is masterfully directing our attention for maximum impact.

Then we get some gore. It’s a bit cheesy by today’s standards, but it also demonstrates another horror technique: it’s always unsettling to see the human body move or distort in ways we know it shouldn’t.

Now we have the chaos after the build of tension. Our poor, defenseless human men are now tied to a monster. MacReady’s flamethrower malfunctions – a convenient coincidence, but we accept coincidences that work against our hero. His one ally is so frozen in fear, the Thing gets him before he can burn it.

What makes this scene so memorable is the tension of the slow testing of the bound men one by one to see who is really an alien. It’s almost an obligatory scene based on the concept of a monster that looks human. Some of the most enduring monsters – vampires, werewolves, zombies and the Thing – are monsters that were once human. It tells us we could all become a monster.

Character Interview - Eric Heisserer

Today I’m continuing my series of interviews about character development with screenwriter Eric Heisserer. Eric wrote the remake of A Nightmare on Elm Street as well as the upcoming Final Destination 5 and The Thing prequel. This fall he will be directing a feature he wrote called Hours based on a short story published at Popcorn Fiction.

Q. What is required for a compelling character?

They have to want something, and it's a want that drives them through every scene. This want can change over the course of the narrative, particularly if the character realizes that they have a need greater than their want. Next, that character needs adversity as powerful as their want. If you have a character get what they want with no resistance, we aren't really compelled to follow the story. Conflict is the breeding ground for compelling character. After that, it's a matter of window dressing. While it may not be absolutely required, something I find that really helps cement the character is a trait or two that feels grounded and realistic, something plucked from someone you know. Anchor the character in reality, even if it's just in a behavior or mannerism you've seen in your spouse, your friend, your coworker, etc.

Q. What is your approach to building a character? 

My approach is sloppy and unstructured. Generally speaking, there are two approaches to story. Some begin with the question, "What if..." and others start with, "There's a guy (or gal) who..." Basically one is concept-centric and the other is character-centric. I used to be focused on concept, and would work outside-in toward character, populating my concept with people who could exploit it. What I've discovered after many years of bad writing and trial-and-error is that the two need to be married. So now I begin my story with, "What if there's a guy who..."

My litmus test when I'm first writing for a character is: I picture myself in a meeting with an actor. The actor is asking me questions about the character. I am putting lines in this person's mouth, and it has to come from an authentic place. If the actor is asking me about motivation or objectives, then my character is undercooked. I haven't yet made it compelling. So, back to the drawing board.

Q. How much back story do you create for your main character before you start writing?

I don't do much back story work, save for that which grows naturally out of the want/need I give the character. If a character wants to be a pilot, for example, then I can choose whether that want comes from a lust for life, or from fear. Perhaps my character has had dreams of flying among the clouds, or of breaking free from the world at ground level. Or maybe this is an escape from a terrible domestic life. Or the character is haunted by a parent's wish/warning. The want will dictate the backstory, in terms of what is pertinent to the narrative I'm trying to tell.

Q. What is the most important thing(s) you need to know about your character before you start writing?

I must know what they want to accomplish. What is the result they want by the end of the story? My characters need to tell me how they want the story to end, and there has to be at least two completely different endings in those answers, or else I don't have any conflict.

Q. Do you base your characters on people you know or imagine stars in the part as you write? 

I have to base my characters on behaviors, speech styles, and mannerisms I've observed in real people, or else they won't feel real themselves. But I tend to avoid basing a character on an actual person, because reality can get in the way of my story (unless of course the point of the story is biographical in nature). I have begun to place actors in my roles, because it's great shorthand for talking with studio execs later, and sometimes it can help me find dialogue when I get stuck.

Thanks Eric! Next post I’ll interview Karen Stillman, writer of the TV movies Smoke Screen, They Shoot Divas, Don’t They?, Dangerous Child and Hit and Run.

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"I used to always recommend that new writers read Story as their first and most important introduction to the craft of screenwriting, but from now on, I’m going to recommend The Three Stages of Screenwriting."

-LA Screenwriter Review