I Don’t Know Anyone in Hollywood – 5 Ways to Network as an Outsider

They say success in Hollywood is about “who you know.” That’s only partly true.

In fact, you need to do two things to break in as a screenwriter, and the first is far more important and difficult: you need to write at least one excellent, spectacular spec script. (Two is better. Three is even better.) It has to be excellent, not just good. You’re competing against the 12,000 or so members of the Writers Guild who have already broken in, and the hundreds of thousands of other writers out there trying to break in. With only two or three hundred theatrical releases of studio and major independent films per year, and only about 600 scripted television series airing per year (even in this peak TV era), there is a lot of competition for every writing job. And your spec has to be spectacular to stand out from the deluge of excellent material pouring across the desk of every agent, manager, producer, and executive.

But once you have this excellent, spectacular spec script, who you know does matter. Most new writers get their breaks through referrals. This means someone you know recommends your script to a producer, development executive, agent, or manager. So if you don’t know anyone in Hollywood, how do you find someone who can make such a referral? Here are five ways:

1. Become strategically active in professional organizations. To meet people in the film industry, you have to go where those people are. There are many established professional organizations that anyone can join for a small membership fee. In addition to the other services they offer, Film Independent, IFP, Women in Film, Scriptwriters Network, and similar organizations have member events teeming with industry professionals. And the more you get involved in the organization, the more relationships you can develop.

2. Go to Film Festivals. Like professional organizations, major film festivals (Sundance, SXSW, Telluride, Toronto, etc.) or almost any film festival in Los Angeles or New York are gathering places for industry pros. You wait in a lot of lines and there are a lot of festival parties. It’s easy to strike up a conversation with strangers – just ask if they’ve seen any films they like at the festival. Your chances of meeting someone connected to the industry are high. And volunteering with the festival increases those odds. (There may be other festival-like events where you can meet certain types of industry people based on your areas of interest. For example, San Diego Comic-Con is teeming with animation professionals and people who work on science fiction movies and television.)

3. Network laterally. Newcomers usually obsess about meeting top Hollywood players, but the reality is the big dogs are the ones least in need of new talent (not to mention the hardest to reach). So think about building a network of people on your level. This starts with other writers. Many writers get their first agent or manager through a referral from a client, so knowing someone who could become one of those clients is useful. But beyond that, get to know PA’s and assistants and others in the entry-level jobs in the business. Agents’ assistants want to become agents and they do that by finding new talent. Producers’ assistants want to become producers, and that means finding material. Usually your opportunities will come through people at your level or just a little above.

4. Put your social media to work. One great thing about the advent of Twitter, Instagram, and the like is that you can actually communicate with people in the business. But that doesn’t mean you can just direct message Jordan Peele and ask him to read your script. Follow people you feel an affinity for. “Like” and “retweet” their posts. Make insightful comments. Ask questions. You can build a relationship online. But keep point three above in mind – if you aim for the most famous people, you’ll get lost in the shuffle. Find those lower level screen and TV writers you really admire and follow them. Also, be sure your social media feeds are filled with clever posts. More than one aspiring comedy writer has parlayed funny tweets into a job.

5. Come to Los Angeles. You can use your social media from anywhere. You can probably have some involvement with film organizations from anywhere. But networking still mostly happens face-to-face. That means if you live outside of the big filmmaking communities of Los Angeles and New York, you are at a significant disadvantage. That doesn’t mean you have to drop everything and move to Los Angeles. It’s expensive to live here and it will take time to break in. But even if you can’t move out right away, consider a strategically timed visit, perhaps building a trip around a film festival and a couple of events through filmmaking organizations. Make those initial contacts, and you can nurture them via email and social media when you’re back home.

Whatever methods you use, keep in mind that good networking is about building relationships, NOT accosting people and asking for their help. In my next post I’ll talk about how to make the most of your networking opportunities.

There are also a few ways to get attention without a referral. You do not need a referral to enter the television fellowships, and if you win the small handful of meaningful screenwriting contests, people will ask to read your script. But to build and sustain any kind of long-term career, you are going to have to network.

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The third edition of The Hollywood Pitching Bible is out! If you are in Los Angeles, Ken Aguado and I will be doing a book signing at Book Soup at 7 pm on September 26th. We’d love to see you there! You can RSVP here which will help us ensure we have enough books on hand.

 

Are you Crazy? Don't wait.  Buy this book now! Ken Aguado and Doug Eboch are guys who walk the walk, and here they talk the talk. They know as well as anyone how to navigate the trickiest waters on the continent: Hollywood's pitching process. Demystifying the secrets of what works and what doesn't for the not-so-brave new world of corporate Movie Biz. It's on my top shelf of books I can't be without.
-John Badham (Director, Saturday Night Fever, WarGames, Stakeout)

Abuse in Hollywood

The Harvey Weinstein scandal is appalling, not just because of the sleazy things he did, but because most everyone recognizes it is not an isolated case in Hollywood. There’s even a slang term for it – “casting couch.” There has been a lot of focus on how willing Hollywood is to look away from bad behavior if the villain is successful. Unfortunately, that’s often true, at least as long as the villain is helping your career. (Hollywood is also well known for schadenfreude, and I’m sure many people are secretly delighted to see Harvey fall.)

But I think there’s an even bigger root cause to the problem: the fact that far more people want to be actors, writers, directors, or producers than there are acting, writing, directing, and producing jobs. This gives those with power to grant those jobs an incredible weapon for abuse. You don’t dare speak up for fear of damaging your career.

And this does not just come into play in sexual harassment. We’ve all heard stories about verbally and physically abusive executives and producers. It also causes pressure on production crews to keep their mouths shut when working conditions become abusive. If you complain, you could be out of a job. Even worse, you could be branded a “troublemaker” and have difficulty finding another job.

This can have horrible consequences. A stuntwoman was killed on the set of Deadpool 2. The investigation is ongoing, but apparently a crewmember had warned producers that the stuntwoman was not qualified for that particular stunt, and the warning was ignored. Recently an actor from Riverdale got into a serious car accident driving home after an extremely long day on set. He was okay, but more than one crew person has been killed or seriously injured in the last few years because they fell asleep at the wheel after a marathon shoot.

Writers also face abuse, though typically with less serious consequences. It comes in the form of things like free rewrites – when the writer has been contracted for a draft, but the producer demands multiple rewrites before they will “accept” the draft and trigger final payment. The writer can refuse, of course, and if it’s a WGA contract, the producer must pay up. But then you might get that “troublemaker” label.

How do the abusers get away with this behavior? They know there’s always someone willing to step into your place and take the abuse.

At this point I want to state very clearly: Anybody who tells you they can destroy your career is lying. Many people may be able to cost you a job, though in the scheme of your career, that job is probably not going to make much difference (and as you rise through the ranks, the number of people with that kind of power will decline). There are a handful of people who can do serious damage to your career, but really only about a dozen in the whole industry (Unfortunately, at one time, Harvey Weinstein was on that list).

The reality is most people who make those kinds of threats are bluffing and counting on you being too afraid or naïve to doubt them. I once saw a third-rate reality TV producer tell a roomful of tape loggers they would “never work in Hollywood again” if they revealed secrets of the show. It was all I could do not to laugh. Unless their career goals were to log tapes on niche cable reality shows the rest of their lives, there was not much this producer could do to them. But I noticed one kid who looked terrified – this was his first job and he believed her.

So what can we do about abuse in Hollywood?

First, stand up for yourself. I wish I could say this came without costs. If nothing else, you probably won’t be able to work for the abuser anymore (though perhaps that’s not such a bad thing). And Hollywood is a small town – word spreads, and people can damage your reputation if they choose. Fortunately, as people like Harvey Weinstein and Roger Ailes discovered, we’ve reached a point where the victim of sexual harassment may have just as much power to destroy the abuser’s career. From now on, if you reject a power figure’s sexual advance and they threaten your career, I would just say the words, “Harvey Weinstein.” I imagine they’ll change their tune very quickly.

In other areas, like pressure on stuntmen to do stunts they aren’t comfortable with, or pressure on writers to do free rewrites, the more people who stand up for themselves, the harder it becomes for abusers to just fire someone and move on to the next willing victim. This is hard, because it takes individual courage in hopes the collective will back you up. But if you don’t stand up for yourself, then how will things ever change?

That brings me to the second thing we can do: stand up for each other. When you see someone being put in an unacceptable situation, back them up. Be the person who spoke up on the Deadpool 2 set. If someone refuses to do something dangerous, or complains about a production running over legal working hours, join their complaint. Sometimes AD's and producers and so on really don't intend to endanger people, but their job is hard. It's easy to dismiss one person as a whiner, but if multiple people speak up, it just might cause that supervisor to reconsider what they're asking.

Third, we should look to the unions. Unions have working rules to prevent most kinds of abuse, but they do depend on members reporting that abuse (see “stand up for yourself.”) IATSE has rules about working hours and turnaround times. The WGA has rules about free rewrites.

Of course not all productions are union. A lot of times you have to do non-union jobs in order to reach the point where you can join the union. I would suggest that if you are going to take a crew position on a non-union production, you ask that the crew deal memo specify that the appropriate union’s workplace rules apply. The union won’t be able to enforce it, but at least you’ll establish expectations, and you’ll have some legal recourse if the contract is violated.

Back around 2006, a message board called “Writer Action” formed. It was for WGA members only, but was not part of the WGA. Part of that message board allowed members to anonymously rate the behavior of producers, agents, and executives, including on things like “Did they demand free rewrites?”

Many producers and executives freaked out when they heard this. They did not like the idea that they might be held accountable for their behavior. They called in "unfair" - which is hilarious, when you think about it.

Maybe all Hollywood unions should institute public databases of complaints. Allow members to register complaints anonymously on anyone they work for. Then post a database of those complaints online that anyone could check. One or two complaints against someone wouldn’t have much effect, but if you saw that a producer had dozens of complaints against them, you might think twice about working for them.

Also, many union members are responsible for hiring and supervising other union members. Cinematographers generally pick their own camera operators and gaffers, for example. Showrunners hire their writing staffs. So when someone files a complaint, the union could look to see if there was another union member who should have been protecting them. Then they could send that person a friendly reminder note of the union’s rules and the obligation of supervisors to protect the rights of those they supervise.

It won’t be easy to change the culture in Hollywood. But as Harvey Weinstein's fall shows, it is possible.


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 The Hollywood Pitching Bible

This book is therapy for anyone having trouble wrapping their head around the technique of pitching. I wish I had Doug and Ken's wisdom earlier in my career.
Eric Heisserer (writer, "Arrival," "Lights Out," "Hours")

How to Succeed at a Pitch Fest

Before I dive into this week’s topic, I wanted to highlight a couple of places I will be appearing in the near future:

This Saturday, May 7th, I will be conducting a workshop on pitching at The Writers Store in Burbank

On June 3rd I will be appearing on a panel at the Phoenix Comic-Con called “How Do I Pitch my Property?”

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Pitch fests like the upcoming Great American Pitchfest can offer an opportunity to crack open the door to Hollywood for those who find themselves stuck on the fringes. They give you an opportunity to have brief meetings with producers, executives, agents, and managers to pitch your project. Sometimes you will be pitching to an assistant or even an intern – that’s okay, those people are often the best connections for unknown writers as they are looking to move up by discovering new talent. But there will also be legitimate high-level buyers at many pitch fests. I spoke at the Great American Pitchfest last year and discovered that a producer who had recently hired me to rewrite a script was there personally hearing pitches from total newbies.

However, it is not as simple as paying your admission and showing up. You will be competing against hundreds of other writers just at the pitch fest. And most of the buyers will not end up buying anything pitched to them that day – remember, they hear pitches every day at their jobs and probably only buy a handful a year at most. If you come into a pitch fest unprepared, it can be a big waste of time and money. So here are some tips for increasing your odds of success.

Know your goal. Who are you trying to meet and what do you want them to do? If you are an unknown writer, the chance of selling an original idea on the spot is about the same as the chance you’ll stumble across a ten-pound diamond in the parking lot. But it is entirely possible that you can convince people to read a spec script. So you should be pitching something that is already written and that you are ready to send off as soon as the pitch fest is over.

Are you looking for representation? If you are pitching to agents or managers, you will still be pitching your idea, but agents and managers represent writers, not projects. They will want to know you have other scripts in the same genre, so have a couple of extra log lines prepared, and be prepared to spend a little more time talking about yourself and your qualifications than your script.

At least in the beginning of your career, you will probably be working mostly in one genre and one medium (TV, features, etc.). So you should pick people who work in that genre/medium and pitch them an appropriate project. However, you may find that you still have time after you’ve pitched to all the TV comedy people (for example), so you should also prepare a related back-up pitch, such as a comedy feature. You’re already there – don’t waste the opportunity.

Do your homework. Once you know whom you will pitch to, do some quick homework on them. Find out what they’ve produced, or in the case of agents and managers, who they represent. This will help you seem informed when you meet them. You might not know exactly who you will be talking to until you actually arrive on site, so be ready to check IMDBPro or similar databases.

Construct a great two-minute pitch. You generally get about five minutes with each table of buyers at most pitch fests. Prepare a tight two-minute pitch to give yourself plenty of time for introductions and questions. Two minutes is plenty to get someone interested in reading a spec if you do it properly. A good two-minute pitch should contain:

1. A brief personal connection explaining why you are interested in writing this story – implying why you are the best writer for the story and why others will be interested in seeing it.

2. The title, genre, and rating (for features) or format (for television). Don’t make them guess whether it’s comedy or drama, science fiction or horror, animated or live action. Tell them up front.

3. A great log line that contains the hook of your idea.

4. A sentence or two about the main character(s) implying why we will care about them.

5. The set up for the plot. You do not need to tell the ending (unless they ask). That’s what the script is for. Instead, give them the set up and end with a statement of where the story is going that can sustain a movie or TV show. For example: “So the soldier will have to make his way through enemy territory to find his true love and get her to safety.”

(For more information on constructing a two-minute pitch, see my book The Hollywood Pitching Bible – or attend one of the events above.)

Present yourself like a pro. Don’t over or under dress. The entertainment business is casual, so wearing an expensive suit to a meeting feels awkward. However, it never hurts to look sharp. You don’t want to look like you came from your job at the car wash... or from the nightclub. Dress nice-casual and business appropriate.


Also remember that you are selling yourself as well as your idea, particularly if you are looking for representation or to work in television. Be friendly and polite. Prep your introductory comments - do you have some experience relevant to your story? Did you go to a film school or win an award? Try to bring that kind of thing up (in a modest way) when you introduce yourself.

Avoid gimmicks. Your job as a writer is to just tell a good story. Artwork, mock trailers, costumes, Power Point presentations, or "clever" gifts will not impress anyone and may make you look amateurish. If bringing a photo or map or something like that helps you more easily explain your idea, that’s fine – but otherwise just focus on telling a story. You should bring business cards, possibly printed with your log line, but it’s usually better to get the business cards from the buyers and be the one in charge of making contact afterwards.

Network with other attendees. The obvious purpose of a pitch fest is to make contact with potential buyers or reps, but you may actually get more value out of meeting your fellow attendees. People tend to break into the business by making a network of friends at the lower levels of the industry who work their way up together, helping each other out. So don’t ignore opportunities to socialize with other attendees.

Following up. If you do the above things well, you will hopefully get several people to request your spec script. Follow up promptly, reminding them of your log line and your interesting background and qualifications in your cover letter or email. Then don’t bug them. A polite inquiry four weeks or so after sending material is fine, but it can take a while for people to read material. It has also, unfortunately, become commonplace for people to reject material by simply not replying at all. So following up once or twice after sending your spec is fine, but after that, take the hint.

It is very likely that everyone will pass on your script, but if anyone responds with encouraging words or compliments when they pass, be sure to follow up with a query when you have your next spec script done (hopefully not more than six months later). If they genuinely like your last script, they’ll remember you. Hollywood success is a marathon, not a sprint. Building fans is the path to a career. Overnight success is a myth.

Most of all, stay calm and try to have fun.

(Almost) Everything You Need to Know About Screenwriting Contests

When you are starting out, getting someone in the industry to read your screenplay can seem like an insurmountable task. Screenwriting contests promise to offer a short cut. Almost all of them claim to get your script in front of industry professionals. (For an entry fee.) (Provided you win.) But not all screenplay contests are created equal. You could easily spend thousands of dollars entering contests this year, and at the end of the year you’d be no closer to a career as a screenwriter.

But there are screenplay contests – and fellowships – that can help you advance your career, though not always in the way you expect. I won a contest (the now-defunct Carl Sautter Award) early in my career and received some excellent prizes and reads from many producers and agents. Here’s a look at some of the contests and fellowships that are worth your attention. It is not an exhaustive list, but it should give you a place to start as you consider how to spend your hard earned money.

Traditional Screenplay Contests

The Nicholl Fellowship is the big dog of screenwriting contests. It’s sponsored by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (the people who run the Oscars). If you are a finalist in the Nicholl – or even a semi-finalist – producers and agents will be contacting you to read your screenplay. The competition is fierce – nearly 7,500 screenplays are submitted each year and only about 10 reach the finals.

The Nicholl costs $60, but winners receive a $35,000 grant. Contests that offer big prize money can help your career simply by giving you the freedom to spend more time on your writing.

When considering a contest I suggest evaluating the stature of the sponsoring organization, the history of the contest, and the prizes offered. Then compare that to the cost of entering. Some contests focus on specific types of material - certain genres, for example, or screenplays set in a specific location (usually sponsored by the government's film department for that state, city, or whatever). It may be worth entering contests that your material is right for because you have a better shot at winning. And obviously avoid ones your material is not right for.

Film Festival Contests

Some film festivals sponsor screenwriting contests that provide winners with passes to the festival and participation in festival events or workshops. In addition to the learning opportunity, this can provide you with networking opportunities if the festival is well attended by industry people.

The Austin Film Festival Contest is probably the best of these. Cost is $40 and all entrants get at least discounts to the festival (with bigger discounts the higher you go in the contest). Plus, this contest is taken seriously by the industry. And Austin passes on feedback from the contest readers – another potentially valuable benefit of contests… as long as the readers are good.

Slamdance also offers a contest that provides reader feedback, a cash prize, and festival passes – not bad since it coincides with Sundance.

Film Independent’s Screenwriters Lab

The Film Independent Screenwriters Lab is a four-week intensive program for art house style screenplays. Many participants go on to have their screenplays produced (I suspect Film Independent does a lot of behind-the-scenes pushing of the participants’ scripts). In addition to the classes and industry mentorship, participants get passes to the Los Angeles Film Festival. Definitely worth the $45 entry fee.

The Studio Fellowships

Many studios offer writing fellowships. Particulars vary in terms of length and financial compensation, but they are all programs designed to train writers. The majority of these are for television writers with the ultimate goal of getting the participants staff writing jobs on that company’s shows. Obviously that would be a career making opportunity. Also note that many of the fellowships are dedicated to promoting diversity, though most are open to any applicant. An added bonus – many don’t have application fees, so they’re definitely worth trying. Here are some links to investigate:

Disney-ABC

Fox

Warner Brothers Writers Workshop

Diversity Programs

Speaking of diversity, there are some excellent programs designed to give writers of color, LGBT writers, and female writers opportunities. Here are some links that might be useful if you fall into one of these categories.

CBS diversity mentoring program

NBC’s Writers on the Verge

Film Independent’s Project Involve


As I said, this is not an exhaustive list of worthy contests and fellowships, but hopefully it will give you a place to start investigating and a metric for comparisons. Note that most of these are only open to writers who have not yet made significant money in the film or television business.

One final benefit of entering these contests: they can be a gauge of how good your material actually is. If you don’t make the finals in one contest, don’t worry. The competition is high and reader taste and experience can vary dramatically. But if you enter a dozen contest and don’t make the final in any, maybe your money would be better spent taking a screenwriting class and your time better spent developing your craft.

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Need to develop your craft? Try my book: The Three Stages of Screenwriting.

And if you're in Los Angeles, I will be teaching a pitching workshop at The Writers Store on April 9th.

Mailbag: How Much Do Screenwriters Make?

Today I’m going to address a couple of questions that have been asked by blog readers.

Marilyn Thomas asked about the financials of a normal script sale (as opposed to a huge million dollar type of sale).

This is a tough question because there really isn’t such a thing as a “normal” script sale, especially these days. For the purposes of this question, we’ll assume it’s a WGA covered deal (an independent, non-union deal could be for as little as nothing up front in return for a vague back-end payment). We’ll also assume we’re talking about a studio film (i.e. high budget), and that we’re talking about a straight up spec sale.

You can look at the schedule of WGA minimum payments on the Guild website - it can be a little hard to follow, as it covers multiple time periods and budget levels. Currently the minimum (scale) for an original high budget spec sale is $93,257. Often your agent will be able to negotiate scale+10% for a new writer. To make the math easy, we’ll round off to $100,000

Typically, studios don’t purchase the script outright, they option the script (giving them the exclusive right to purchase the script for one year - if they don't you get it back and keep the option payment). A 10% option for one year with a renewal for an additional 10% is fairly standard. That means your option payment would be $10,000.

Of that, you’ll pay 10% ($1,000) to your agent, 10% ($1,000) to your manager, and 5% ($500) to your attorney, assuming you have all three. The Guild dues are 1.5% ($150). That means your revenue will be $7,500. Your tax rate will depend on a lot of other factors about your income, but let’s say it’s 25%. Fortunately the above commissions and dues are deductable, so taking 25% off $7,500, you’re left with $5,625 for the one year option.

If the studio exercises the option and purchases the script, they pay the difference between the option and the purchase price. That’s $90,000 more to you – minus $9000 to your agent, $9000 to your manager, $4500 to your attorney and $1350 to the WGA. That leaves you with $66,150, which, after taxes, comes to $49,612.50. There will probably be a few other expenses from that as well, such as for an accountant to handle your taxes.

Of course there’s lots of variables in there. Your option could be for more or less. The total price could be higher if there’s competition among buyers. But the market for specs is very weak right now. Bidding wars are rare and often producers don’t feel the need to option material because they aren’t afraid of someone else stealing it away from them, or else they option it for a token payment. Also, ideally you want to include a rewrite in your deal, which would add a minimum of $33,916 to the deal but comes with other issues.

Still, that should give you an idea of how a deal might look for a new writer working with a studio. The most important thing is to get experienced people to advise and represent you. You especially want a good entertainment attorney.

Now on to the second question:

David Bishop asked, “The usual wisdom says you should write within your wheel house to build a cohesive career. … You've blogged how Sweet Home Alabama was an outlier for you, and that created challenges when it took off. Could you talk about how overcome that challenge, or about what happened next?”

Today we refer to this as your “brand.” Successful screenwriters are typically associated with one type of film – a certain genre, and maybe budget level or style. There are big career advantages to this. You’ll build relationships with producers and execs who like that type of film. You’ll get called upon when they need someone with the skill set you’ve established. And it will be easier to keep track of the market and your competition.

One big advantage to being a screenwriter is you can change your brand simply by writing spec work of a different type. If you’re a horror writer and you decide you want to write broad comedy, just write a broad comedy spec and voila – now you’re a broad comedy writer.

However, you lose much of the clout from what you did before. Most of the producers and executives with whom you’ve built relationships writing horror won’t be interested in making a broad comedy. The few who are might read yours but they’ll be skeptical of your abilities since they only know your skills at horror. And broad comedy producers will not know you or your writing. You’ll be building your network again almost from scratch.

Furthermore, your agent or manager may not be interested in representing you for broad comedy (you should definitely discuss it with them before changing your brand). So you may have to seek out new representation. And since agents and managers generally want to see multiple scripts from a prospective client, that means you’ll need to write more than one broad comedy spec to prove your abilities - and your commitment to the new direction.

Essentially, shifting brands means starting over again almost as though you were a newbie.

After Sweet Home Alabama set records for a September opening, I got known as a romantic comedy writer with particular skills in writing female characters. It opened a lot of doors to me. I could get pitch meetings just about anywhere – as long as I was pitching romantic comedy. Most of my assignment work has been in that genre – just this year I got a gig to rewrite a romantic comedy.

But what I've always wanted to write is science fiction and adventure movies. Sweet Home Alabama was an unusual spec for me, something I did in school somewhat on a whim before I really thought about things like branding. I don’t regret it. I like being paid to write! But I decided a couple years after the movie came out that I wanted to do different things and set about changing my brand. So I wrote a new action-adventure spec. My manager at the time was very supportive, but my agents weren't. So when I finished the spec I started looking for a new agent. To my shock, about a third would not even read the action-adventure spec. "If he does a romantic comedy, we'll look at it," they'd tell my manager.

Fortunately, the agent I did sign with, Lew Weitzman, was very supportive of the new direction. With his help, I was able to do some new things. Unfortunately Lew passed away a bit over a year ago. My current manager understands what I want to do now… but he still frequently encourages me to reconsider romantic comedy. It’s just easier for him to sell me that way.

What I really need is for one of my newer scripts to get turned into a big hit movie. But that's easier said than done.

How to Get an Agent

NOTE FROM DOUG: This week, Let’s Schmooze will do something a little different. This blog entry is an article I have co-written with Ken Aguado. Ken is a producer and my co-author of The Hollywood Pitching Bible.

How To Get An Agent

As established members of the entertainment community, we are frequently asked to speak to aspiring writers and directors, both in a classroom setting and outside. Doug also does this on a weekly basis in this blog-space and a glance at the links on the right will give you a pretty good sense of the vast range of subject matters he has covered. With the success of our recent book The Hollywood Pitching Bible, the number of invitations has greatly increased and we are now regularly invited to speak at numerous entertainment industry events, festivals, film schools and conferences.

No matter what the topic of the event, inevitably the dialog with the audience veers onto our views about the industry in general and life in the biz. Overwhelmingly, there’s one question we get asked more than any other: “How do I get an agent?” We also get this question or a regular basis from our film students at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, California. Often the question is asked with such intense interest, that we sometimes wonder if the rest of our lecture has just been “filler” for the audience, who are just waiting to get to this topic.

There is a common belief among aspiring writers and directors that getting an agent is the key to launching a successful career. And it’s not hard to see why – the primary role that agents play in Hollywood is to be the middleman between artists (writer, directors, actors, etc.) and the people who can hire them (studios, networks, production companies, etc.).

But when we are asked the question “How do I get an agent,” we know that what the audience really wants to know is “How do I get work or sell something in the biz?” They want to work as an artist, and see representation as a way of achieving that dream. And because the question is really one question masquerading as another, our answer is more complicated and probably less satisfying than you’d hoped. So how do writers and directors get that first job in their chosen field? We will get to that. But the short answer is you may not need an agent to work, nor does having an agent guarantee you will get work.

Who Are These Representatives?

Before we discuss getting representation, let’s regroup and make sure everyone knows the differences between the familiar Hollywood “representatives” – agents, managers and lawyers – what they do, and how they earn a living. Notice that we put the word representatives in quotes. There’s a good reason for this that has nothing to do with us being smarmy.

What do agents, managers, and lawyers do in Hollywood? There is a lot of confusion on this topic. Some of this confusion is understandable, especially if you’re new to the industry. But some of it is the result of the sometimes-confusing overlap in what these representatives actually do in the real world.

In California and New York (but not all states) agents are licensed, bonded, and allowed to solicit work on behalf of their clients. Managers and lawyers are not licensed to solicit work for their clients (although lawyers are licensed to practice law and regulated by the state bar associations where they practice). This is why we used quotation marks above when we described them all as representatives. While agents, managers and lawyers are all “representatives” in the colloquial sense, only agents are legally authorized to represent their clients to solicit work on their behalf.

So if they are not procuring work for their clients, what do managers and lawyers do? Managers are supposed to provide what can generally be described as career guidance for their clients. Lawyers do legal work and contracts for their clients. For their services agents charge 10% percent of their client’s income. Managers are usually paid the same percentage (actors typically pay a 15% commission), though unlike agents there is no rule as to what a manager’s commission must be. Lawyers typically charge 5% or bill hourly. If you are just starting out, you can expect to be billed an hourly rate by most entertainment attorneys. While there’s no universal rate, many charge between $350 and $500 an hour, sometimes more, and very often it is money well spent. If you are going to discuss obtaining legal services from any attorney, be sure to ask up front what their services will costs.

There are a few more differences with practical implications that we should mention. Agents are prevented from producing their clients’ work, hiring their clients, or being active owners in a business that hires their clients. This is intended to prevent a conflict of interest.

Managers, being unregulated, have no such restrictions and many managers use this freedom to work as producer on their client’s work. In fact, many management companies are also active production companies. Because they are allowed to perform this dual role, there has been a proliferation of management companies in the entertainment business over the past couple of decades. In fact, many of these new managers are former agents.

Some managers will also help clients develop their material, though this service varies from manager to manager. Most agents act primarily as salespeople and do not want to spend their time giving feedback on their clients’ work.

Now that you understand the division of services that the various representatives perform you should know that, in practice, there is considerable overlap between all three jobs. Managers often do solicit work, agents often do give career guidance, and lawyers sometimes make project submissions and help their clients get work. As a client, you’re probably best served by letting them all do these things, even if technically they’re not supposed to.

Doug has written extensively on the topic of agents, managers and lawyers. For those readers interested in learning more please check out these posts.

Breaking In

Now that we have summarized what the various representatives do in Hollywood, let’s get back the original question: “How do I get an agent?” which as we’ve said is really a placeholder for the real question – “How do I get work?”

The short answer is: do great work. Not just good work, great work. So problem solved, right? Okay, maybe not, but the point is this: if you want to get work as an artist in the entertainment business, no one will hire you unless you have already demonstrated substantial skills in your desired profession. For directors this means directing an impressive piece of filmmaking. For writers it means writing spec screenplays.

The truth is, most aspiring screenwriters and directors do not yet have representation because their work is not yet of high enough quality to attract representation. And it’s not just fledgling artists that are seeking representation. Many established artists are looking for agents (and work) as well, so new artists are competing with many seasoned pros. All the more reason you must make sure your work stands out from the pack.

We know what the follow up question will be: How do you know when your work is good enough? What is good?

We cover this topic in detail in our book, The Hollywood Pitching Bible, but the short answer is this: learn your craft, accept that every artist loses perspective about his or her own work, and seek out honest feedback about your work from trusted friends.

Of course very few people get to start their careers in their dream job, no matter what the industry. And this is certainly true in entertainment. You may have to take an entry- level job to get established and work your way up. And while working your way up, you may discover your natural talent in the business is actually some other job you didn’t anticipate. You may really be a great editor, sound mixer, development executive, or production manager at heart. Keep an open mind and always work hard and do your best. You won’t impress people if you act like you’re too good for the job you have.

For writers, working in development can help you make contacts and teach you a lot about writing. Many professional screenwriters got their first industry job as professional script readers. Ken Aguado, the co-author of this article, started out as a script reader. Doug Eboch, the other author, did script coverage as part of an internship.

Many directors get their initial directing opportunity by proving themselves in another area first. Sometimes they’ve been very successful writers or cinematographers or producers who have impressed people in the business and are given an opportunity to move into the director’s chair. They’ll also have contacts and favors to call in to help them succeed at this rare and critical opportunity. Often they need some other leverage as well – for example, they’ve either written or acquired an excellent screenplay.

Other directors have worked their way into Hollywood gigs by creating an impressive body of independent directing work. Very often this means directing at least one feature film. Few directors are able to break into the business if they’ve directed only a couple of short films, a music video or a spec commercial, etc., but it’s not impossible. Sometimes a collective body of short-form work can be enough. But it has to be great and consistently demonstrate a mastery of things like tone, technical skills, acting, and other less tangible qualities, such as commercial intent.

If you want to be a writer you will probably need at least two great screenplays of the same genre under your belt. After all, you can’t really call yourself a writer if you don’t have a body of work to back up that claim. And it might take you several attempts to master the skills or learn where the sweet spot is for your talent. If you plan to seek representation, all the more reason to make sure you’ve done a variety of work and made it the best it can be. “Breaking” a new writer is a lot of work for an agent or manager, and your first deal is usually pretty small. Representatives want clients that will have a long-term career, not one-hit wonders.

You’re Great. Now What?

So let’s say you’re a writer with many terrific scripts or a director with a great film or killer reel; what do you do next? Well, as we’ve said, the real goal is to work, right? If you were able to pull it together to actually direct a film, you probably had to convince someone your project had merit, even if your family or friends financed the film. That’s a start.

So let’s lay out a few strategies for cracking the business.

If your goal is to be part of the mainstream entertainment industry, your first step should be moving to Los Angeles or New York. That’s where 90% of the business lives and works. Some initial contacts can be made by long-distance phone call, e-mail or snail mail, but that will only take you so far. There are pockets of active production elsewhere in North America in places like Georgia, Texas, Illinois, Louisiana, North Carolina, Toronto and Vancouver, but most of the creative decisions on those productions are made in NY or LA.

If you’re looking for an agent, both the DGA and WGA websites have lists of signatory agencies. These are not lists of every agency out there, but rather lists of the ones that have agreed to abide by certain practices. The problem is that most top agencies will not accept unsolicited submissions. This means you will get your script or reel back with a polite but unambiguous form letter saying, thanks, but no thanks.

There are some agencies that will accept unsolicited submissions, usually after you send a query letter or email describing your qualifications and what you intend to submit. We have seen lists of these agencies online – in fact the WGA website includes such a list - but often the lists are wildly inaccurate, out of date, or contain agencies we’ve never heard of. Conversely, there may be agencies out there that aren’t on the list that would still look at your work. The only way to be sure is to start making calls. Agencies get these call 100 times a day and the person who answers the phone will answer the question in 30 seconds. If they do accept unsolicited materials, sometimes they will require you to sign a release form before they consider your work. This cold-call route to representation is the hardest way to go. Very, very few artists get an agent this way.

It’s Who You Know

The truth is that almost all writers and directors (even working ones) get representation as a result of a referral from a current client of the agent or manager, another representative (e.g. your attorney or manager refers you to an agent), a producer, an executive, or some other established member of the entertainment community. So if you think you need an agent to get your work to producers, you’re thinking of it backwards. You might need a producer to get your work to an agent! Most top agencies will only agree to represent artists they consider “bookable:” the ones production companies are eager to hire.

This brings us to the crux of the matter. You shouldn’t assume that getting an agent is your only, or even best, strategy for getting started in showbiz. And as we’ve said, getting an agent doesn’t guarantee you will get a job. Plenty of established artists with agents and managers can’t get a job. So what should you do if you really want representation?

Yes, we know we said that agents are the only kind of representative legally empowered to seek work for the clients. But we also said there is some overlap with other forms of representation and the reality is that for many artists a manager will end up performing many of the same duties as an agent. And because managers can also produce their client’s work, this is added incentive for them to seek out new clients. But managers aren’t the only ones who can produce. You know who else can produce? That’s right – producers.

Managers and producers are usually more receptive to discovering new talent that comes their way through other means. What are some of these other means? Major film festivals, the major screenwriting contests, film school instructors, and referrals from friends, are all common ways it can happen. In other words, you have to show your work to people who are in the industry who aren’t necessarily representatives or buyers, but who may know representatives and buyers.

This is known as networking. But good networking doesn’t mean cornering a producer at a party and assaulting him or her with your “elevator pitch.” It means getting involved in the business and meeting other people with similar interests and aspirations. People who will support you, look at your work, and when they see something great, tell others about it.

This is why doing exceptional work is so important. Perhaps you’ve heard the maxim “Build a better mousetrap and the world will beat a path to your front door”? The same is true in showbiz, which is why it is crucial that you’ve taken the time and effort to create the best work you possibly can. When people in the industry see truly great work, they are excited to pass it on. After all, they are all anxious to get credit for helping to discover the next big thing!

And here’s the kicker – after you get representation you will still have to produce great material and network. So really, stop worrying about how you get an agent or manager and just start building your career.

If you make your own success, the agents, managers - and more importantly, a career - will come to you.

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Douglas Eboch is a screenwriter living in Los Angeles. His credits include the original script “Sweet Home Alabama.” Follow Douglas on Twitter @dougeboch.

Ken Aguado is a producer living in Los Angeles. His most recent film is “Standing Up,” written and directed by DJ Caruso.

Doug and Ken co-wrote “The Hollywood Pitching Bible: A Practical Guide to Pitching Movies and Television," which is available at Amazon, iTunes and selected bookstores around the country.

Working with Agents and Managers

Agents and managers (collectively, “representation”) are important components of a professional screenwriter’s team. They better be – if you have both they will take one fifth of your income – before taxes! Most aspiring screenwriters are obsessed with how they can get representation. Few bother to think about what happens when they do land an agent or manager.

But that’s important. Just getting an agent doesn’t guarantee you a successful screenwriting career – not by a long shot. Plenty of agented writers find their career stagnant, their representation apparently not lifting a finger to help them. They then complain about their awful agent or manager. (For a description of the difference between agent and manager, look here.)

Is their rep really awful? Could be… there are plenty of bad agents out there, and even more worthless managers. But it’s equally possible that the writer did not fulfill their responsibilities in the relationship – probably because they didn’t realize they had responsibilities.

So today I want to discuss your relationship with your representation.

Your Responsibilities:

1. Keep producing new material. Whenever you don’t have assignment work you should be writing new spec material. If you’re just starting out, or your career is in a slump, or you’d just like to be doing different kinds of work, your reps can’t do much for you without the right new material to show people. And this doesn’t mean a half-assed polish of a script that went out five years ago.

2. Run spec ideas by your representatives before writing them. If you surprise your reps with a new spec they didn’t know you were working on, be prepared for them to ignore it. Do them the courtesy of approving ideas before you write them. I like to present a selection of loglines – between three and ten – for my reps to choose from. There are two reasons for this: your reps will do a better job selling if they’re invested in the material, and they can advise you which ideas will work better in the marketplace based on what’s currently out there.

3. Do your own networking and maintain relationships. Part of your reps’ job is to help you expand your network, but they love it if you help. Get out there and socialize within the industry. Meet producers, directors and executives. Let your reps know when you have a new connection. And when your agent or manager connects you with someone, it’s now your responsibility to build that relationship.

4. When you call your representation, have a purpose and keep it short. Your reps are busy. Don’t call them “just to check in.” Have a reason. And a little chit chat is nice, but try to get to the point within a couple minutes. You want your reps on the phone with buyers, not with you.

5. Respond within 24 hours. If your reps email or leave a voicemail for you, respond as soon as possible, but definitely within 24 hours. If your reps can’t reach you, they will be nervous about doing things like setting up meetings for you.

6. Be prepared and professional in meetings. When your reps do get you meetings, it is your responsibility to be prepared and professional. If your reps hear you annoyed the person you were meeting with or delivered a rambling, half-baked pitch, you can bet they won’t send you anywhere else. It’s their reputation on the line, too. (Same goes for when you are working on an assignment – be professional and reliable!)

Understanding the Relationship:

1. Your reps are not your critique group. Some agents and managers like to give feedback on material, others are of the “sell it don’t smell it” perspective. But in any case you should not expect extensive notes on multiple drafts from your reps. That is not their job. And when they do give you notes, you need to be able to effectively execute them in the next draft.

2. Your reps are not your mother, financial planner, therapist or life coach. Your reps are business partners. Often they also become friends. But that doesn’t mean you should burden them with your financial or personal troubles.

3. Your reps’ job is to expose your material to people and get you meetings, not to get you work. You get work by impressing people with your writing and pitching skills. It’s like a recruiter getting you a job interview – if you don’t get the job, it’s not the recruiter’s fault.

4. They deserve their commission even when you get work yourself. Believe me, they’ll do a lot for you that they’ll never get paid for. The commissions are for your overall career. As an example, I once got a job from a referral through a contact I made myself. I still paid my agent’s commission. Then later when the producer was late on a payment, my agent yelled and threatened them until they sent a check. Boy was I glad I’d given my agent his cut!

If you do your part, what should you expect?

1. Calls returned within 24 hours. The courtesy of a quick response works both ways. Most of the time you should expect calls and emails returned within 24 hours. If you reach a point that you can no longer get your reps on the phone, the relationship has failed. (Give them a couple weeks to read spec material, though.)

2. Follow-through on agreed upon plans. If you make plans with your reps – say they buy off on a spec idea and you jointly make a list of who might get that spec, you should reasonably expect them to actually send the spec to those people. If your reps are making promises and not keeping them, it’s time to find new reps.

3. They have your back when you have a serious work conflict. When you are in a conflict with a producer over late pay or free rewrites or some other work related dilemma, your reps should help sort it out. Keep in mind, they have to maintain their relationship with the buyer, so they may not deal with the situation exactly as you’d like (and it is possible you are actually part of the problem). But some reps are way too cautious about making waves. They forget they represent the writer, not the buyer. If your reps throw you under the bus at the first sign of trouble, you might want to find new reps.

Representation is a two way street and it takes some effort to hold up your end of the relationship. But it’s worth it – ultimately it’s all in service of your career. And being in a dysfunctional relationship with your representation can be worse than having no representation at all!

The Draft Cycle

Today I’m going to respond to a reader question about rewriting, feedback and drafts. Joel Myers asks:

I was wondering what your revision process was once you got to where you had a presentable script but no one else has read it. Do you usually present it to a few friend readers for feedback before sending it in to producers/more "official" send-outs? How many rounds do you do of that back and forth? Etc. I think a sort of general overview of the whole draft cycle from start to finish might be interesting.

Good question – or rather several questions. Let me start with how many drafts I might do overall on a spec. The answer depends a lot on the project. I’ve done as few as three and as many as forty-seven before showing a script to potential buyers. As I’ve gained experience, the average number of drafts I need has come down. These days eight to ten drafts is pretty common. Also, I’ve learned not to start draft one without a fairly extensive outline. That probably cuts the total drafts in half.

The corollary question here could be: what counts as a draft? I’m a little obsessive about saving all my work. I also tend to keep moving forward on a draft rather than going back and rewriting scenes. If I realize on page 60 that I want to make a change in Act One, I’ll make a note for myself to do that next draft rather than going backwards. Some drafts are obviously bigger changes than others, but most contain some changes throughout the script.

Doing it this way makes it easier to keep track of what I’ve done – and I maintain a document listing the drafts, the major changes or purpose of the draft (“character dialogue pass” for example, or “moved third act setting to the winery”), and anyone who read it and gave notes.

I definitely show scripts to trusted friends for feedback before presenting it to buyers or even my representation. I want to hear of any problems from my friends, rather than from the potential buyers when my career is on the line.

Agents also don't usually have time to give a client extensive notes – though that depends on the agent’s personality. Most split into two camps: Those that don’t want to give notes (this is known as the “sell it don’t smell it” approach) and those that will give a single set of notes. A very few enjoy developing material with their clients and might go through two or three drafts with you, especially when you’re starting out.

Managers tend to be more into helping develop material (my current manager is an exception in this regard, though). Still, you don’t want to waste your manager’s time giving you notes you could have gotten from your friends. And I don’t even ask my friends to give me their time until I feel like the script is in pretty good shape.

Picking who gives you feedback is important. Here are my guidelines:

1. They have to be intelligent and have good taste. Well, duh.

2. They have to like the genre. If you give a horror script to someone who hates scary movies, chances are they will give you notes to turn it into something less scary. But the people who might buy the script will be looking for the horror, so that’s not good. On the other hand, someone who knows the genre will be better equipped to flag clichés and offer useful suggestions. Personal taste does matter in this business.

3. They have to be willing to be honest and brutal. The point is not to get pats on the back, though those are nice. I want the readers to tell me honestly what sucks so I can fix it before sending it out. Most people don’t like to do this. This is one reason showing it to other writers can be helpful. They understand what you need, and that being brutal is actually doing you a favor. Be sure to thank them for their brutality, and never get upset about it!

4. At least some of the readers should understand story and writing. It can also be helpful to get feedback from “civilians” – they can give you the audience perspective, a more gut reaction, that sometimes writers and producers don’t see as clearly. But you will get much better notes from fellow writers. They will be better able to understand why something isn’t working and make useful suggestions. Producers and directors are sometimes also good at getting at the “why” but usually less able to give good suggestions to fix it.

I will solicit reads from friends as many times as I feel I need to. If I make major structural or character changes, I will probably want another set of feedback. On a typical spec this means two or three waves of feedback (maybe 3-4 people per wave, mostly different people each time so they have a fresh perspective).

I also really like to have a live reading in my living room at some point. I’ll invite people to read each part. Just hearing the dialogue out loud will tell you a lot. You’ll also quickly sense where the pace lags, or when people get confused. If you’re doing comedy, you’ll see which jokes land and which don’t (I make a check or an X next to the line accordingly).

I try to mix up the readers – some writers, some actors, maybe a director or two – in order to get a variety of perspectives. (The actors are invariably shocked at how harsh the writer criticism is, which amuses me.) Pizza and beer are a big part of this process.

As I mentioned above, your last set of notes may come from your agent and/or manager. But this should probably be the last set, and will depend on their style and your relationship with them.

How you process all this feedback is another issue. Sometimes people prefer to give feedback by email; others I will take to lunch and get it in person (and of course in the live reading it’s all in person). I write down everything they say and I’m careful not to defend or explain. You won’t be able to go around to the screenings of the movie and explain what you meant afterwards. But I do ask questions if I don’t understand a note, or if there’s something specific I want feedback on.

You should not necessarily do every note or suggestion you get, of course. You know the story better than anyone, and people have personal taste things that not everyone shares. However, you need to be open to change. If more than one person trips on something, you better figure out a way to fix it.

Finally, all of the above assumed we were talking about a spec script. A screenplay written or revised under contract is a different animal. I will still solicit responses from friends if it is first draft of an adaptation or an original idea before turning it in, but probably only one round and seldom will I ask my representatives to read it.

The friend feedback process for a paid gig is mostly to catch any egregious problems or tiny logic/grammar/dialogue flaws. The people whose creative notes you most need to be concerned with are the producer(s) and executive(s) who hired you. How to take notes from these people is a whole other blog post!

Thanks for the question, Joel. For all my readers, if there’s something you would like me to write about, please feel free to ask. I don’t promise to do every request, but I’m always looking for ideas for posts.


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In other news: Hollywood Journal has published the first in a series of articles about The Hollywood Pitching Bible. Check it out!

What Does a Million Dollar Spec Sale Really Mean?

You read in the trades that a screenwriter just sold a spec script for a million dollars. Lucky guy. That means he’s rich, right? Not quite. I’d like to use this hypothetical to explore how the business of being a professional screenwriter works.

Let’s assume the number quoted in the trades was accurate – never a safe assumption; people tend to exaggerate the size of deals. But even if the one million dollar figure is correct, it isn’t what the writer will be receiving immediately. Usually what’s reported is the total maximum value of the deal. Some of the money is guaranteed. Much of it won't be.

First, a lot of the money in a contract of this size will likely be in the form of bonuses. Often the writer receives a “production bonus” when a script goes into production. They may also receive “box office bonuses” if the movie hits certain box office thresholds. Frequently these bonuses are contingent on the writer receiving credit on the movie. Sometimes if the writer receives shared credit, the amount of the bonus is reduced. If this is a WGA deal (at this level it should be) then credit will be determined by the Guild. The good news is if the writer sold an original spec, then they are guaranteed at least a shared “story” credit.

For the purposes of our exercise, let’s say half the million dollars is in the form of bonuses. That means the actual sale price of the script is $500,000. Not bad, right?

It isn’t bad at all, but chances are the writer hasn’t actually sold the script. More likely they’ve “optioned” it, meaning they’ve entered into an option/purchase agreement. With these agreements the buyer purchases the exclusive right to buy the screenplay for a specific period of time. But purchasing the screenplay is optional, not required (thus the name of the deal). Studios usually don’t actually exercise the option (i.e. buy the script) until the last possible moment, ideally well into pre-production after the film has a green light.

The component terms of an option/purchase agreement are variable, subject to some Guild minimums, but let’s imagine a typical big-studio option deal.

We’ve said the purchase price of our hypothetical script is $500,000. The amount actually paid to option the script could be anything really. In a studio deal, 10% is pretty common. That means in this case the writer would be paid $50,000 against the purchase price. The usual period for such an option is one year. If the studio wants to acquire the script in that year, they pay off the remainder of the purchase price, in this case $450,000. If they don’t, the writer gets the script back and keeps the $50,000 (this is the benefit of the option concept for the writer).

Frequently option agreements contain a renewal clause where the studio can renew the option for an additional year for $50,000 more. This second payment is not typically against the purchase price, though. So if the studio buys the script in the renewal period, the writer would make $550,000 total. If they renew and don't buy, the writer gets $100,000 and regains possession of the script at the end of two years.

Remember, all this is negotiable. The option payment doesn’t have to be 10%. Independent producers will frequently want a “free option.” They aren’t really free because for a contract to be valid both sides have to receive something of value. So the writer is paid a dollar or maybe ten dollars. This gives the producer the right to shop the script for the period of the option without worrying someone will do an end run around him.

If you do a free option, it’s best to keep the option period short – maybe six months. If a producer can’t do anything with the script in six months, they probably can’t do anything in a year. Free options often contain renewals, but usually the renewal requires a bigger payment – perhaps 10% of the purchase price. If the producer has successfully raised some interest during the first option period, they'll be willing to pay to extend the option.

But for the hypothetical we’ll assume our guy got his $50,000. Not too bad, right? But he doesn’t get to take that home. First he has to pay commissions. His agent will get 10%, or $5,000. His manager will most likely also get 10% - managers’ commissions are variable, but 10% is typical for writers. So there goes another $5,000. The writer’s attorney is a bargain at a typical 5%, or $2,500. WGA dues are 1.5%, or $750. Many new writers get upset about paying Guild dues, but when you get a residual check or free health care you realize dues are worth it.

That leaves $36,750 for the writer. Of course, he has to pay taxes on that. Taxes tend to be high for this kind of income. Working screenwriters generally form loan out corporations to help reduce the tax hit. Loan out corporations are legal entities that receive payment and then “hire” the writer so as to spread out their income over the course of a year, rather than having it hit in big chunks. They also have advantages for creating pension plans and a few other things. Your accountant will help you set up your loan out corporation when you need it (you’ll have to pay the accountant for this service, of course, along with annual fees and taxes for maintaining the loan out corporation).

Let’s say our writer is going to pay 30% in taxes on his income. He’ll be left with $25,725. If he's been temping or waiting tables to make ends meet while he writes, he will certainly welcome a check of this size. But it’s a far cry from a million dollars.

Of course maybe the studio will pick up the option. Maybe they’ll make the movie and the writer will get sole credit. Maybe it will gross hundreds of millions of dollars and he’ll get all his bonuses. (He’ll still pay commissions and taxes on all of that, of course.) Then those beautiful residuals will start to roll in. But he might not want to buy a Ferrari counting on all of that happening.

And of course when you’re starting out you most likely won’t get a million dollar deal, anyway. If you run the same numbers with a $100,000 sale price, the writer keeps $5,145 of the option payment.

Depressed yet? Don’t be. Working screenwriters get paid pretty well. You just have to understand that you are not a corporate employee, you’re a small business. You have to manage your revenue properly. That means understanding contracts and commissions and loan out corporations. (Also, obviously, you shouldn't count on retiring on one script.)

There’s another way the writer might earn money from this sale. Often, especially if they have good representation, the writer will be hired to rewrite their script. Next post I’ll describe how those deals work.

(Note: always consult an attorney before signing a contract for writing services.)

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The Hollywood Pitching Bible: A Practical Guide to Pitching Movies and Television is now available on the Nook. And still available at Amazon, iTunes, Kindle and Smashwords.

Timing Matters

One of the many, many little things you ought to know if you want to be a professional screenwriter is the development calendar. You might not expect it, but there are good times and bad times to send out a script.

The calendar is particularly important to television writers. Networks operate on a very specific cycle – they hear pitches for a specific period and then order pilot scripts of the ones they like. When they get those pilot scripts in, they decide which ones to make. When they see the pilots, they decide which ones to order to series. Try to pitch something new when they’re looking at completed pilots and you probably won’t even get in the room.

Cable has more flexibility (and networks have recently been attempting to move toward year-round development), but for practical purposes most channels have to look at a collection of pilots at the same time to pick the ones they want to fund that year. And it’s hard to move off that traditional network cycle because writers become available at certain times of the year. There’s a “staffing season” where writers meet with showrunners and producers to get hired on a show. Once that season ends, a lot of the best writers will be tied up for months.

There’s a pretty good rundown of the TV development season here.

The feature film world is not so strict, since movies are for the most part one-off propositions that can take as long as needed to develop. But there is still a loose calendar that comes into play.

The development business shuts down for the holidays, and doesn’t really get going again until after Sundance in early February. Then people come back to work eager and energized and with brand new budgets (most studios have a calendar year fiscal year, Disney being an exception). There’s usually a flurry of activity from February through April.

As you get into summer, things slow down. People are tiring and budgets are getting lower so execs get pickier. Then, it’s kind of an unwritten rule that August is vacation month. Even if your agent or manager stays in town, they will have trouble reaching people. This idea has now become so accepted that if an agent sends a script out in August the assumption is he/she is dumping it because it’s not very good.

In September people come back from vacation ready to work and there’s a good buying period for a month or two. Things start to shut down the week before Thanksgiving. You don’t want to send anything out Thanksgiving weekend, but you might get a week or two after. Nothing much goes out after mid-December because of the holiday distractions.

So you can see that the hottest time to send material into the marketplace is February/March and September. But you will also have a lot of competition in those periods. Also, there may be reasons to send out things at another specific time. Maybe you want to send out your spring break movie around spring break, for example. Or ride the coattails of a similar movie that was just a huge hit. Bottom line, you and your representatives should be strategizing timing.

This schedule assumes you are sending out material through an agent or manager. If you are looking for an agent or manager, you might consider this schedule as well, but in another way. Representation will be very busy in February/March and in September. August and December will still be filled with distraction. However, the slower summer months might be a good time for them to read scripts and meet with prospective clients.

These things can change over time, as does the type of material that does best in the market (pitch vs. script, for example). That’s why you should be at least skimming the trades. Understanding the rhythms of the business will help you create the most receptive environment for your material.

What’s Your Brand?

To be a professional screenwriter is to run a small business. And like any business, you will be more successful if you establish a strong brand. For screenwriters, your brand is what kind of script the buyers know you can execute well.

Most commonly this is the genre you write in. Most writers, myself included, do not like the idea of being pigeonholed. But it happens and it’s much better if you decide which pigeonhole to be in rather than leaving it to someone else. Plus, there are many good reasons to become known for a specific genre.

First, studios maintain actual lists of writers that they know can deliver in certain genres. If you’re on the sci-fi list, when they need someone to rewrite a sci-fi script or adapt a sci-fi novel, you might get the call. People in the business admire writers who can do a lot of different things, but being a generalist means you’re not a specialist. They won’t think of you when they need the specialist.

You may be thinking, “Well, I just want to write and sell original scripts, so I don’t need to be on those lists.” But given the state of the business where studios are obsessed with underlying IP (intellectual property), it’s hard to make a living writing only original material. Wouldn’t you rather make your rent money adapting a book than working at Starbucks? And it’s a lot easier to get original stuff produced if you’re regularly working on assignments. So you do want to be on those studio lists.

Another reason to have a strong brand is that it is much easier to sell a pitch in a genre you are known to do well. If you’re pitching a broad comedy hoping to get someone to pay you to write the script, you’ll have much better luck if you’re known for writing hilarious broad comedies. If all your previous work is in the horror genre, producers will question whether you can deliver the funny.

A third reason is that buyers and agents tend to specialize as well. I’ve told the story of getting my first agent here before. I had sent around the romantic comedy that I wrote as my Masters thesis at USC (the screenplay that became Sweet Home Alabama). One particular producer liked it a lot, but didn’t buy it. So I sent her my next script – a big action adventure. She told me that her company came very close to buying this second script, but decided they just didn’t have the relationships with the directors and stars that do action adventure. They made comedies. The good news was she offered to help me get an agent.

But that story illustrates how you have to match material to the appropriate buyer. As your career develops, you’ll make contacts and fans in the business. As in my case, the fans you make with your first script will be the people who make movies in that genre. If the next script you write is something radically different, most of those contacts will be useless to you. Yes, in my case I got an agent… but because I switched genres I didn’t get a sale.

Your brand isn’t solely limited to genre. Some writers are known for writing great dialogue, or writing jokes, or writing female characters or writing action, etc. If a comedy project needs a punch up, the studios call the joke guy. If they want to attract a famous actress to a part, they get the writer known for writing great roles for women to do a pass on the screenplay. Being particularly good at something means you can get work.

To some extent this is out of your control. Sure, you can intentionally hone a certain skill, but chances are you’re already good at some things and weaker at others. Most likely, your strengths lie in the genre and type of material you’re most passionate about. So play to your strength and passion!

Savvy writers think about their brand and plan their spec work accordingly. As illustrated above, I didn’t do such a good job of that when I was starting out. Imagine what kind of work you most want to be doing ten years from now. You should be writing and pitching material that will lead you in that direction. An old coworker of mine had a little sign above her computer that said, “Is what you’re doing today getting you where you want to be tomorrow?” You are building your brand with every spec script you write and every pitch you do. Choose your subject matter wisely.

This applies not just to specs. It can be difficult to turn down a work in this business, but remember: if you take a job that’s off-brand you will dilute your brand. Obviously you also need to seize on opportunity, and opportunities aren’t always perfect. But sometimes making a smart short-term decision can actually hurt your chances of long-term success. Sometimes writers will do off-brand jobs under a pseudonym for this reason.

Once you’re an established screenwriter, it is possible to broaden your brand and what you do. Once you’re known for broad comedy, adding action comedy to your repertoire is simply a matter of writing the right spec – but ONLY do this after you’ve firmly established your broad comedy brand. And if you manage to become an “A-list” screenwriter, your brand is “A-list.” But that doesn’t happen after one or two movies. You have to build your career to that level. That will be a lot easier if you consciously pursue a brand.

More Mistakes I've Made

Last post I talked about some of the mistakes I made early in my career. Here are a few more:

I over-relied on my agents for work

When I was trying to break in to the business, I hustled to get my scripts to producers, development execs, anyone who would read them. I had to. Then I got an agent. The agent got my scripts out to a whole bunch of new people, which resulted in meetings with a bunch of potential new employers. Everything was heading up.

And then things went quiet. What happened? Well, I stopped doing the hustling I’d been doing and relied on my agent to promote me. And he did to an extent, but not as enthusiastically as I had. Nobody will be as dedicated to your career as you. Getting an agent doesn’t relieve you from the job of developing your network in whatever additional ways you can.

Besides, my agent did his job. Here’s the big thing new writers usually don’t realize: Agents do not get you work. They get your spec writing to people and get you in rooms with people who like it. They open doors for you. It’s up to you to walk through them, and what happens on the other side is on you. My agent had introduced me to a bunch of new people, and he was expecting me to take those contacts and run with them. I didn’t, or at least not as aggressively as I could have. (See last post: Didn’t keep in touch with people I met.)

Note that agents do other important things for you. They negotiate contracts, harass employers when your pay is late, and help you choose material, among other stuff. They are very valuable. But it’s on you to nurture your contacts, continually produce new material, and convince people to hire you.

I didn’t ask questions about the business

Learning to write is hard. It takes time, energy and a thick skin. I went to school for several years to learn how to do it well. But school didn’t prepare me for how the business works. When I went into meetings, I didn’t really know what was expected of me. I went into some “general” meetings without preparing a pitch – I was told they were get-to-know-me meetings. When the producer asked what I was working on, I fumbled through some lame description of a current spec.

In one meeting, I had the foresight to prepare three pitches (something I wouldn’t do now, but not really a “mistake” per se). The producer shot all three down after a few sentences by saying, “Not for us, what else you got?” I didn’t want to say “nothing” so I started pitching any story idea I could think of – most remembered from my idea notebook, a couple off the top of my head! I pitched well over a dozen. Obviously none of them sold – they were half-baked. I should have said, “I’m kicking around a few other things but let me develop them and come back.”

There were many other things like this that boil down to: I didn’t know what was expected of me. I can easily make the excuse that someone should have prepared me better – my film school professors, my agent. But really I should reserve the most blame for myself. If I didn’t know, I should have asked.

I tried to negotiate for myself

I don’t want to get into specifics on this one, but let’s just say there were a couple contracts early in my career where I tried to negotiate the terms on my own. Often that was because the producer made me an offer or asked what I wanted to get paid. Tip: the producer would much rather negotiate with the writer than with an agent or lawyer. A few times I negotiated for myself because I was trying to save legal costs on a “free option,” a deal where I would take no money up front in return for a potential payoff down the line.

Negotiating for yourself is always a bad idea. When you agree to something, even just a ballpark figure, it is nearly impossible for your representatives to go back and raise that number. And your reps know the value of your work in the marketplace much better than you. Trust them (this includes when you think you deserve more than they say). I left money on the table a few times by not insisting that the buyer talk to my reps. Fortunately I never made the mistake several of my friends did of getting into onerous, long term contracts for no money. That’s even worse.

I’ve had a few questions come in, so next post will be a mailbag post. If you have questions, send them my way via email, the comments section here or Twitter.

Agents and Managers – What’s the Difference?

Most aspiring screenwriters are heavily focused on getting an agent. Most, in fact, focus too much on this when they really should be concentrating on becoming better writers and getting to know people in the business, but that’s another post. Traditionally, getting an agent has been considered the first step in becoming a professional screenwriter.

But over the last fifteen years or so, a somewhat new type of representation has become commonplace: the manager. Many pros these days have both. (Currently I only have an agent but I’ve had a manager in the past.) And many new writers wonder what the difference is.

Legally, the difference is that agents are licensed by the State of California and allowed to solicit work on your behalf. Managers are not licensed and therefore barred from soliciting work. However most do anyway and few writers report a manager that finds them a job!

Another major difference is that agents, if they are legitimate*, are franchised by the Writers Guild of America. This provides protections for the writer, such as limiting agent commissions to a maximum of 10% and allowing the writer to get out of the agency contract if the agent fails to find them work for 90 days (though that rule is seldom needed… few agents would try to force an unhappy writer to stay at the agency.)

So in practice one of the big differences is that agents have specific rules they have to play by and managers do not. That makes signing with a manager a more risky proposition. (And FYI: common practice is that managers take 10% to represent screenwriters. 15% is standard for actors.)

Another big difference that has practical implications is that agents are prevented from producing their clients’ work, hiring their clients, or being active owners in a business that hires their clients. This prevents a lot of conflict of interest. Many managers are managers so that they can also produce. Many management companies are also production companies.

This has advantages and disadvantages for the writer. On the one hand, if the managers are good at producing and the production company gets a lot of movies made, it gives you preferred access to them as buyers. And, if a manager is attached to a script as producer, they shouldn’t take a commission on any sale, saving you your 10%.

On the other hand there’s that pesky conflict of interest. Some of the big management companies are known for only pushing clients’ material if they want to produce it. If they’re not interested in producing, the client is ignored. Also, having a manager attached to a script as a producer could be a negative when others may be considering buying that script. At the very least, they’re going to have to pay your manager and share credit with them. Any attachments (including director or movie star) can help or hurt – it all depends on how the buyer feels about working with that person. And if your script does sell, your manager will likely be more interested in their producing deal than your writing deal.

So when you are meeting with a potential manager you should discuss under what conditions they will come onto your projects as producer, what they bring to the table in those situations, and what happens when they aren’t going to produce. Writers’ feelings vary about what answers they hope to get to these questions, but at least you’ll be informed.

The difference you’ll hear most is that managers provide career counseling that agents don’t. These days, this is usually true. In fact, I believe managers arose partly because agents were taking on more clients and doing less career counseling. Most just don’t have time anymore to give you extensive feedback on your spec scripts, for example. They want to be out selling your material.

That’s where (good) managers come in. They will generally be a lot more available to read and give feedback on material, coach you in preparation for pitches, and discuss possible long-term career plans. Of course good agents are involved in these things as well, but the manager should give you more time.

Another crucial difference is that it’s usually easier to get a manager than an agent, especially for a new writer. And, managers often help their new writers find an agent. If you get both, whichever order you get them in, you do want to make sure they can work together. Because they’ll need to. The ideal manager-agent pair has several clients in common so they have an established relationship.

So do you need a manager? As the saying goes, “A good manager is worth more than their commission, a bad manager is worth nothing.” It is certainly possible to be a working writer without a manager – or even an agent. On the other hand, if you could double your income wouldn’t you be willing to give up 10% of the results in return?

If you are considering signing with a manager, you will want to meet with them and discuss the things I’ve mentioned as well as how they think they can help you get to where you want to go in your career. You’ll also want to research their company and what they’ve produced (if they produce). In the end, whether to sign will be a judgment call. Just remember: in the long run it’ll be your talent, work ethic, interpersonal skills and luck that will determine how your career goes, not your representation.

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*If you are considering signing with a small agent at an unknown agency, you should definitely be sure they are franchised by the WGA – you can find out on the Guild website. If they are not, it is a huge warning sign.

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In other news, I have re-launched my Kickstarter campaign for my short film, Microbe, with some revisions. Please check it out and consider becoming a backer. There are several rewards that might be of interest to an aspiring writer or filmmaker!