Thursday, April 16, 2015
Paul Guay on Writing Partners
Before I get to Paul, I noticed doing these interviews that the writers often brought up working with partners on pitches and in meetings. This points to one of the truths of being a professional screenwriter - it's about more than just writing screenplays. Something to think about if you're considering a partnership. And now with a few more things to think about, here's my interview with Paul Guay:
Q. You’ve worked with different writing partners...
A. Guilty.
Q. ...and also done some writing on your own. How did you find your writing partners, and how do you decide who you want to work with?
A. I’ve had about four and a half writing partners.
One and a half were friends from high school, one was an upperclassman whom I probably didn’t meet in high school but whose name I knew, one was a friend of two of my college friends, and one I met on the WGA picket line.
I knew all of them socially before we began writing together, except my fellow picketer.
The high-school friends were improvising comedy sketches into a tape recorder and had written a couple of comedy sketches when I joined them. I loved their writing, loved their performing, and joined because I wanted to write and perform with them. Later the three of us wrote a comedy-sketch screenplay together, and I partnered with one of them on three non-sketch screenplays and a teleplay.
The friend of two college friends approached me with the idea for a screenplay and suggested we write it together. I liked the idea and was interested in getting serious about screenwriting, so I agreed. The partnership eventually led to The Little Rascals, Liar, Liar and Heartbreakers.
The upperclassman mentioned an idea for a screenplay. I loved the idea, and one of us (I forget which) suggested we write the screenplay together.
While we were picketing, my fellow picketer mentioned a movie idea he had. I was so drawn to the idea that I began pitching bits and characters and scenes to him. I eventually proposed that we write the story together and, if that went well, the screenplay. He agreed.
Q. What process do you prefer? Do you sit in the same room or do you send material back and forth?
A. Most of the collaborative work has been done in the same room, which has its costs and benefits.
Q. What happens when you disagree with your writing partner? How do you make decisions?
A. I learned through experience that the answer(s) to this question, and to all other questions regarding a writing partnership, should be spelled out in advance in a written contract.
Subsequently, I have collaborated only when there is a contract in place.
Here’s a pertinent clause from a recent collaboration agreement:
“During the writing and any rewriting thereof, whether on spec or under contract, when there is a creative disagreement between Writer A and Writer B, they will explore good-faith ways of resolving the disagreement. Such methods may include:
(i) Reasoned argument;
(ii) Each party’s making a good-faith estimate of the importance he places on the issue, with the party giving the issue less weight conceding to the other;
(iii) Alternating concessions; and
(iv) Flipping a coin.
If these methods, or any others the parties attempt, do not satisfactorily resolve the issue, or if in Writer A’s opinion the issue is too important to subject to one of these methods, then Writer A’s decision will control, but only after giving due consideration to Writer B’s position.”
Q. What are the advantages of working with a partner?
A. You cut your taxes in half.
If you have the right working arrangement with the right partner (and keep in mind, that’s two big ifs):
Having a partner provides discipline; you will show up and put in the hours.
Having a partner makes brainstorming easier; two minds can spark each other better than one mind can spark itself.
Having a partner provides a sounding board to choose between and organize various ideas.
Having a partner with complementary strengths can make the screenplay better.
Having a partner puts someone in your corner, which can be helpful in meetings.
And having a partner means someone is sharing the responsibility, which can be helpful during moments of self-doubt and the dark night of the soul.
Q. What are the disadvantages?
A. You cut your taxes in half.
If you want to protect your solo voice (at least in the spec or first-draft phase), writing with a partner is probably not the best choice.
If you find you and your partner are not compatible, because of personality (you’re too different, or too similar) or any other reason, things can go south in spectacular ways.
Q. Any advice for a writer contemplating entering into a writing partnership?
A. Don’t... unless the benefits outweigh the costs.
In that case, do.
Discuss the nature and conditions of the partnership in advance, and put the conclusions of those discussions in a contract written or vetted by an attorney or two.
Then: write!
Answers (c) 2015 Paul Guay. All rights reserved.
* * *
Paul Guay’s movies have grossed over half a billion dollars. He conceived and co-wrote Liar, Liar, at the time of its release the sixth-highest-grossing comedy in history. The screenplay received an Honorable Mention (along with Fargo, Million Dollar Baby, The Full Monty and Catch Me If You Can) in Scr(i)pt magazine’s list of the Best Scripts of the Past 10 Years.
Paul co-wrote The Little Rascals, Universal's second-highest-grossing film of its year, and co-wrote Heartbreakers, starring Sigourney Weaver, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Gene Hackman and Jason Lee, which opened #1 at the box office, and the rights to which he co-licensed to MGM for production as a stage musical.
Paul teaches screenwriting at Art Center College of Design and through The Film Connection and is a sought-after Script Consultant.
Friday, February 27, 2015
How to Know if Your Idea is Marketable
It takes a lot of time and energy to write a spec script. Why would you want to invest that time on an idea you don’t love? And why would you want to invest that time on an idea that you can’t sell?
It’s pretty easy to figure out whether you love an idea, and only a little harder to figure out if it’s something you can do well. However it can be quite tricky to figure out if an idea is something you can sell.
Here’s an exercise that can help: Think of five movies that are similar to yours in terms of genre, tone and scope that have been released in the last three years. Go ahead, do it now.
If you have difficulty coming up with five movies, it may be an indication that there isn’t really a market for that type of movie. (It could also be an indication that you haven’t really developed your idea enough.) Perhaps you should move on to a new idea.
If you were able to come up with five movies, you’re not done yet.
Do you love all the movies on your list? If not, it could be an indication that you aren’t working in the right genre. You should really love the type of movie you're trying to write. Try coming up with replacements for any movies on your list that you didn’t like.
Now, dig a little deeper into your analysis by asking these questions:
Were the movies successful? Don’t rely on your impression or memory, check boxofficemojo.com. And don’t just look at gross, compare gross to budget (also available on boxofficemojo). Generally, a movie has to gross at least 2.5 times its budget worldwide to be profitable. Not all five of your movies have to be hits, but if none of them were, it might be a bad sign for your idea.
Now it gets a little trickier. You will have to do some subjective analysis, and you will be tempted to reach conclusions that support the idea you want to write. Try to be as clear eyed as possible as you ask:
What do the five movies have in common? Are they all star vehicles? Are they all within a certain budget range? Do they all have the same rating? Are they all set in a contemporary time period? If your concept does not share the things the five movies have in common, it could be a warning sign. You might want to adjust your idea (for example, if you were envisioning an R rated movie but all five comparison movies were PG-13, consider toning yours down). Or, maybe the movies weren't as similar to your idea as you first thought. You might need to find five different movies to justify sticking with your approach.
(Edited to add: Additionally, if all of the movies you picked are based on underlying material, it might be a warning that your idea will be a tough sell if it's an original story.)
The Same but Different
Now, ask yourself how your idea is different from the five. There is good different and bad different. Bad is when you are ignoring a factor that was relevant to the other movies’ success (e.g. they all had movie star leads while you envision an ensemble). Good is when your idea has something fresh and original about it that is compelling.
Hollywood is not famous for originality and risk taking, but it isn’t looking for carbon copy movies either. If your idea is marketable, there will likely be hundreds of similar scripts floating around at the same time. How is yours fresh? What are you adding to the genre? Again, it can’t be so different than you lose what is marketable about the type of movie, but it has to be different enough that it will interest fans of that type of movie.
This type of analysis is helpful to prevent you from wasting time on an idea that has no potential for selling, or to allow you to adjust your idea in a more marketable direction before you start writing. However, remember that marketability is only one circle on Paul’s Venn diagram. You also need to love the idea and feel you can write it well. If the idea doesn’t fit the sweet spot, it is probably worth spending time looking for a new idea.
And before you get too enamored with the fact that you found the perfect idea, read this post on the value of ideas.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Making a Good First Impression
Screenplays have a very specific format (or really several specific formats if you consider sitcom, hour drama and feature film). It should not surprise you that if you want to work as a professional writer you need to use the proper format. It should not surprise you… but for some reason I’ve encountered an amazing number of aspiring writers who moan about learning format.
Using proper format is important for several reasons. First, it makes you look like a professional. Second, properly formatted screenplays should roughly time out to about one minute of screen time for each page of the screenplay. This helps the studio know if the screenplay is an appropriate length for a movie. Finally, many things about screenplay format are designed to help in the production of a film – for example, slug lines indicate a new location or time of day, which is helpful for scheduling the shoot.
There is a difference between a production formatted screenplay (a script which has been “locked” and is in pre-production) and a development script. Most of the time, writers are dealing with development format.
Here is a format guide for development scripts I’ve prepared with Paul’s help.
Note that format changes subtly over time (this is why it’s risky to use a guide printed in a book from 1988). For example, when I started out it was considered proper format to put “(CONTINUED)” at the bottom of each page. These days few professional writers do that.
The other thing that will help you is to use screenwriting software. Final Draft is currently the industry standard, though Movie Magic Screenwriter has its adherents. There’s even Celtx, a fairly good freeware product. Once you load the proper template for the kind of script you’re writing, the software will take care of most of the formatting for you. There is a small learning curve with any of these, but you’ll get the hang of it quicker than you think and wonder how you ever wrote without them.
Similar to format, you have to use proper spelling, grammar and punctuation in your script. Most of the executives and producers in this business have degrees from top universities. They know the difference between “lose” and “loose,” “than” and “then,” “its” and “it’s.” If you don’t know how to use those words, the executives are going to think you’re kind of stupid. Is that the impression you want to give? As a writer, your tool is the English language. You are expected to have mastered that tool!
There are two places where you will violate the rules of grammar. One is dialogue. People rarely speak in perfect English and your dialogue should reflect the way people actually speak. The second is for stylistic effect. For example, screenwriters often use sentence fragments to create a sense of pace and tone. But in these instances it will be clear that you are violating the rules intentionally for effect. On the other hand, if you confuse "their" and "there" everyone will know it's out of ignorance or sloppiness.
Now, if you read professional scripts you won’t have any trouble finding the occasional spelling, punctuation, format or grammar error. That isn’t really surprising when you consider that unlike a novel a script isn’t intended as a final product. Studios don’t employ copy editors the way publishing houses do. But don’t take that a license to be sloppy.
A few errors will never get your script rejected. But if an Ivy League educated producer finds half a dozen spelling and grammar errors on the first page of your script, you can bet she won’t bother to read the second page. If you haven’t mastered Basic English what’s the chance you’ve mastered dialogue and plot?
Similarly, if you use a slightly dated format people will still take your script seriously, though if you’re writing in a format used in the ‘40s or if you number your scenes (as is done in a locked production script) it’s kind of a tip off that you’re not a working professional yet.
If, however, you write in a radically non-standard format, people will absolutely not take you seriously. First of all, if you can’t be bothered to learn something as simple as formatting you probably haven’t bothered to learn anything else about the craft of writing either. The moment a producer or executive or movie star sees an improperly formatted script they immediately assume it’s awful. Experience says they’re probably right.
Remember, seldom are people in Hollywood obligated to read your work. Especially if you are trying to break in, any indication that you aren’t ready will be an easy excuse for a producer or executive to toss your script aside and move on to the next one.
Of course the thing that will ultimately determine your success or failure is your storytelling ability. The prettiest script in the world won’t sell if the story isn’t compelling. But format, grammar, punctuation, and spelling create an impression on the reader before they even get to the quality of your story. You want to create the impression that you are a smart, skilled artist who has spent time learning your craft.
In the end it’s all about being a professional.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Character Interview - Paul Guay
Compelling characters are heroes (or antiheroes) whose needs I care about.
Q. What is your approach to building a character?
Q. What is the most important thing(s) you need to know about your character before you start writing?
Q. Do you base your characters on people you know or imagine stars in the part as you write?
Friday, October 9, 2009
Interview with Paul Guay - Part 2
Here is part 2 of my interview with Paul Guay
Doug: How do you develop your characters?
Paul: Just add adjectives till something sticks.
If I’m writing a high-concept film, the concept implies the protagonist’s character arc (and vice versa). For example, Liar, Liar is about a birthday wish which requires the protagonist to tell the truth for 24 hours. Therefore, the protagonist must be someone who is incapable of, or hates, telling the truth. What might that kind of person do for a living? What kind of problems might arise personally and professionally if he’s suddenly unable to lie?
Plot is the revelation (and the changing) of character through action. So if I do my job right, my plot requires certain things from my characters and my characters require certain things from my plot. The characters and the plot grow together.
That said, I don’t have anything more than a theoretical fix on my characters until I start typing their dialogue and hear what they sound like. I’ll edit and make choices and adjustments and changes, but it’s not until I hear them talking that I really know who they are. When I hear them singing, I’m home free.
Doug: What’s the biggest mistake you see neophyte writers make?
The two biggest mistakes are choosing subject matter that’s not marketable and beginning to write too soon.
I have a lot of ideas for scripts, but when I finish a script it always takes me awhile to choose my next spec because it has to be something a) that I love enough that I want to spend the next six to 12 months of my life writing it (yes, I do assignments much faster, but we’re talking about specs here) and b) that I think enough people will want to see that a studio will choose it from the 180,000 or so scripts that are written every year and will be overjoyed to spend $71 million to make it and $36 million to market it, which were the average costs for a studio film in 2007.
Many neophyte writers ignore a), so they spend irreplaceable months of their lives on something they don’t love, or they ignore b), so they spend irreplaceable months of their lives on something they can’t sell. Of course, even with a passionate writer and a commercial subject no script is guaranteed to sell... but it sure beats the alternative.
The other major mistake I see is that writers go to draft too soon. I see remarkably-good ideas go to waste when writers didn’t spend the time to brainstorm, to ask “What if?”, to explore alternatives, to ask themselves, “Given this premise, given these characters, what’s everything that could happen?”, then didn’t sift through all those jokes and scenes and bits and arcs and setpieces to choose the best and forge them together into the strongest-possible whole.
Doug: You frequently write with a partner. How does that work?
Paul: I get the pit. He gets the pendulum.
Doug: Do you sit in a room together and toss around jokes, or do you divide up the scenes and write separately?
Paul: I’ve written different ways with different partners. Usually we do the brainstorming and outlining together. Then either I’ll type while my partner looks at the monitor and throws out hilarious lines, especially if it’s a comedy, while keeping tabs on the plot and tone and character choices and advising me when I’m typing seven different approaches to a scene that we really can stop at five... or we’ll take the first two scenes, divide them, write separately, move on to the next two scenes, etc.
Doug: How many drafts does it usually take before you feel like a script is ready?
Paul: The last spec I co-wrote, an action comedy called Blue Flu, went through 15 drafts. I don’t edit while I’m writing; I put down whatever comes into my head and know that I can choose and reshape and cut later. If I’m writing jokes, I might write five or 10 or 50 jokes for a particular line, and then as I do subsequent drafts, I’ll have a better and better idea which joke best reveals character, advances plot, pushes theme, and is funny.
This means, by the way, that my first drafts are long. But I find it much easier to make choices and reshape and cut once everything is written on the page and I can read the script as a whole.
I never send out a script until I think it’s ready. “Good enough” isn’t good enough; it has to be the most artistic and most commercial writing I’m capable of. It’s an extremely-competitive business; no one’s best guarantees a sale... but again, it sure beats the alternative. And I have pride in what I do. If I’m remembered for anything, it’ll be my writing. Or my height. But I have more control over my writing, and I’d like it to be remembered well.
Before my scripts go out, I give them to 10 friends who are working screenwriters. I want the benefit of their objectivity and their criticism so that what producers and directors and talent and studios see is as good as I can make it.
Doug: Liar, Liar was an enormous hit. What impact did that experience have on your career and on your creative process, positive or negative?
Paul: The career impact has been extremely positive; I now get the best table at my house. The only caveat is that sometimes when I pitch I’m told “That’s too similar to Liar, Liar” or “That’s too different from Liar, Liar.” I also get “That’s too visual,” but that’s another story.
Doug: You sold Liar, Liar as a pitch. What do you think are the most important elements for a good pitch?
Paul: Choosing a story so compelling that moviegoers have to see it on opening night -- and telling it so well that your listeners “get” it in the telling. Don’t make them hunt for the gold; do the panning, do the sifting, then hand them the nuggets yourself.
Doug: Do you have any advice you wish someone had given you when you were just starting out?
Paul: Yes. Don’t bet on pro wrestling.
(c) 2009 Paul Guay. All rights reserved.
* * *
Paul Guay’s movies have grossed over half a billion dollars. He conceived and co-wrote Liar, Liar, at the time of its release the sixth-highest-grossing comedy in history. The screenplay received an Honorable Mention (along with Fargo, Million Dollar Baby, The Full Monty and Catch Me If You Can) in Scr(i)pt magazine’s list of the Best Scripts of the Past 10 Years.
Paul co-wrote The Little Rascals, Universal's second-highest-grossing film of the year, and co-wrote Heartbreakers, starring Sigourney Weaver, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Gene Hackman and Jason Lee, which opened #1 at the box office, and the rights to which he co-licensed to MGM for production as a stage musical.
Paul is a sought-after Script Consultant (www.LetsSchmooze.com/PaulGuay.html)
Monday, October 5, 2009
Interview with Paul Guay - Part 1
This week I'm posting an interview with my friend and fellow screenwriter Paul Guay whose credits include Liar, Liar, Heartbreakers, and The Little Rascals. This is part one. I'll post part two later in the week.
Doug: How did you get your start in screenwriting?
Paul: Mob connections.
I’ve always wanted to be a writer (and an actor, and one of the Three Stooges). I wrote my first short story at seven, my first poem at eight, my first play at nine, my first lyric at 16, my first comedy sketch at 18, my first radio play at 21.
I went to Menlo School, where Robert W.F. Jones started a creative-writing class for me. I was the only student in the class, and over the course of three semesters I turned in something like a thousand poems, lyrics and short stories. Mr. Jones is still in intensive care.
Then I went to Pomona College, where I majored in creative writing and philosophy. I figured if the career in writing didn't work out, I always had philosophy to fall back on.
I got a job at Producers Sales Organization (PSO), a film distribution and production company, doing marketing, advertising and publicity. I worked there five years, learned about the film industry, made contacts, and read scripts. Hundreds of scripts. I analyzed some of them, gave notes. I started learning what works, what doesn’t work, and why. I wrote taglines for posters, retitled films, wrote trailers and press releases. I learned how to sell movies to a buyer and an audience.
PSO acquired the rights to The NeverEnding Story, the best-selling fantasy novel by Michael Ende. We were executive-producing, putting together the financing and handling the foreign distribution, and we wanted to set the project up with a U.S. distributor. The problem was, the (excellent) screenplay by Wolfgang Petersen & Herman Weigel read as if it had been translated that morning from the German; it wasn’t in idiomatic English.
Mark Damon, the head of PSO, asked if I would be interested in polishing the script. I figured, great, this will be the best two weeks of my life. Mark told me he needed the polished script in 36 hours.
I did a few sample pages and was called into a meeting with the PSO brass. They asked me to read what I'd written. “Aloud?” I wondered. “Yes,” they observed. I did. They applauded. (I now put an applause clause into all my contracts.)
I went back to my desk and finished the polish in 36 hours. The project was subsequently picked up by Warner Bros., grossed $125 million worldwide, back when that was real money, and spawned two sequels.
I was approached by Simona Benzakein, who had produced a Cesar Award nominee for Best Picture in France. She and Christopher Lambert (Highlander, Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes) were putting together a drama called Central Park. A major screenwriter had been paid to write a treatment that they didn’t care for, and they wondered if I would start over and write a new screenplay for free.
Who could resist an offer like that?
When I turned in the screenplay, Simona read it and said, “This makes the years of waiting worthwhile." I took that as a compliment.
When I left PSO I hooked up with a writing partner. Our first spec screenplay together, a romantic comedy called Take Two, got us our first agent and some good meetings. Our second screenplay, a coming-of-age comedy-drama called The C-Note, got us our second agent and some great meetings. Our third screenplay, a horror comedy called Abra-Cadaver, got us our third agent and sold to Universal. (Anyone want to make it?)
Eventually we were called in to pitch for The Little Rascals. Another team was hired, months passed, and we learned the studio didn’t care for that team’s script. We were called in for a second pitch, we were hired, and because the rights to the characters were going to expire, we had 12 days to write the first draft. Butch hit us up for more lines, but the film was very successful.
So somewhere in there is how I got my start in screenwriting.
Doug: Do you break your stories down into three-act structure before writing?
Paul: Yes. I find the three-act structure an extremely-helpful way to organize material, and as an audience member I enjoy movies with beginnings, middles and ends.
Doug: How detailed an outline do you do before embarking on a script (if you do one)?
Paul: What’s an outline?
Oh, yes, those things. As it happens, I do do one. And it’s extremely detailed, because it’s more than just an outline; it’s every potentially-useful idea I have about the film, all in one place.
I begin by writing down everything that the concept or the protagonist or the secondary characters suggest to me, in no order whatsoever. On a spec, I spend weeks brainstorming bits and scenes and dialogue and character notes and character arcs and jokes.
After awhile it becomes clear what stuff goes at the beginning of the film, so I move all that to Act One, and what goes at the end of the film, so I move all that to Act Three. The rest, of course, is either Act Two or “Notes and Discards”... stuff I move to the end in case I find a use for it later.
Then I start to organize within each Act. Where does my movie begin? What’s the turning point or plot point, either halfway through Act One (roughly page 12 or 13 in a 100-page script) or by page 10 (if I follow the “rule” that readers need to be grabbed within the first 10 pages)? What’s my end of Act One, the moment at which I get my hero up a tree? What’s the logical progression of events between the beginning and the turning point? Between the turning point and the tree?I do the same for Act Two, aiming to throw the biggest rocks at my hero around page 75.
I do the same for Act Three, aiming to get him down from the tree and done with his denouement and tag (with perhaps a hint of a sequel) around page 100.
I can’t imagine beginning a screenplay without an outline. I don’t want to be 50 pages into a script and have no idea where I’m going.
Nor can I imagine not writing down all the ideas I have about the film as they come to me, and then putting them in the outline. Doesn’t mean I have to use them, but I want to know they’re there.
(c) 2009 Paul Guay. All rights reserved.
Paul Guay’s movies have grossed over half a billion dollars. He conceived and co-wrote Liar, Liar, at the time of its release the sixth-highest-grossing comedy in history. The screenplay received an Honorable Mention (along with Fargo, Million Dollar Baby, The Full Monty and Catch Me If You Can) in Scr(i)pt magazine’s list of the Best Scripts of the Past 10 Years.
Paul co-wrote The Little Rascals, Universal's second-highest-grossing film of the year, and co-wrote Heartbreakers, starring Sigourney Weaver, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Gene Hackman and Jason Lee, which opened #1 at the box office, and the rights to which he co-licensed to MGM for production as a stage musical.
Paul is a sought-after Script Consultant (www.LetsSchmooze.com/PaulGuay.html).

