This started out as an intro to a reprint and morphed into something else.
WELL, TONIGHT I'm excited because hopefully I'll meet a few Ink Canada types I haven't before, here on my last night in L.A.. Tomorrow it's home and an immediate dive into work. Now that we're a few weeks past the firestorm of "I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script," there's another thing that working screenwriters have to deal with quite a bit, and that's the, "I'm totally lost and don't know how to break in, will you meet with me to give me some advice" conversation.
This one's a bit trickier to negotiate. I try to do them whenever I can, but then there are sometimes, like now, when I see everything piled up that I have to do and think, "I just don't have the time right now." In my case, I tell myself that I've already done (and am doing) a lot right now to try and bring up writers -- a couple of student lectures here and there in the next month, and a few projects I have to do as part of my WGC council duties...
But the thing that sometimes gets me about the people who want to meet is how ill-prepped they are. I mean, in this day and age, with all these screenwriter blogs to read, I don't understand why you would skip right to, "can you explain the industry to me and give me some advice" when there's tons of practical advice just sitting out there for you in the scribosphere. If you're looking for craft advice, there's the Jane Espenson archives, or John August, or Alex Epstein, and any one of a dozen other locales. If you want career or life advice, how can you meet without devouring every word of Ken Levine, or Lee Goldberg. You want to know what writers are like? There's Kung Fu Monkey. Canadian? Well, once upon a time this was a black hole, but I think if you read the archives of Jim Henshaw or Will Dixon or Jill Golick or yours truly, you're going to get a whole lot of knowledge downloaded in a short time.
Then, and only then should you go and look to ask for a working writer's time to "fill in the rest." Most of us are nice people and try to give our time as much as possible. (Sometimes more than possible -- anything to help procrastinate.) I know when I sit down and get to have a conversation with somebody where they've done the prep -- it's way better for both of you. I don't have to be quietly resentful that I have to explain basic stuff that the person could have gotten a hundred other places -- that could have gotten by just reading this blog, or Playback, or Deadline Hollywood Daily or a book like Billion Dollar Kiss, or any of the fine books on TV writing out there; and in most of those convos, where the person is prepped, I might even come away with a few new thoughts that help my process. That's an unexpected dividend.
And this doesn't stop, by the way. Yesterday, I was lucky enough to tag along with someone else to their meeting with a top Hollywood TV writer/showrunner, who's also written a bunch of movies. It was great to be in this meeting, simply because I didn't want anything: I wasn't looking for a read, I wasn't looking for a job...I just wanted a bit of face time with the guy. And I wanted it because I was, and am a big fan of a lot of his work - the stuff everybody likes, and some of the stuff that wasn't so successful, too.
And it was a great meeting. I got to praise. I got to hear insight about what works and doesn't, why some of the failures failed, what he's learned about some of the things coming up -- and how he aligns what he's pitching right now. And I worked with his Dad years ago, so I got to say nice things about that. Boom. Great meeting.
So, I'm sorry to the foursome of people who've contacted me in the last couple weeks wondering if I could have a quick chat; I hope you understand that I'm not brushing you off to be a dick -- I just have a whole lot to do and I'm not excelling at the work/life balance right now. In the meantime, do some of that reading homework, and make sure when that meeting -- whoever it's with -- comes, that you make a grand impression ... like the person I write about in this entry did.
Originally published May 8, 2006:
Last week I met a fellow writer for a drink. (Okay, full disclosure: I had four. But she had 'a drink.' )
It was a referral from a colleague, just a normal sort of meet and greet to try and suss out and connect to future talent. You still can't shake the feeling that it's kind of like a job interview.
So I fired questions out -- what are your favorite TV shows; what do you like to read; what do you do when you're not writing; how did you come to writing; what's your experience; who've you worked with; what are you passionate about; where have you been; what's important to you?
I know these questions can be daunting, especially fired all in a row like that. I have a friendly demeanor, so that cuts it a bit. But if you notice anything in the pattern of the questions above, let it be this: I'm trying to find out as much about the person as the experience or taste they bring to writing. Because that's an important part of the collaborative process. I don't know who said it originally, but I know that Ken Levine has opined recently that you have to find a person that you could stand to drive cross-country with. Collaboration in TV means lots of long hours, weird times, strange intimacies (get your mind out of the guttter, I don't mean that way) and a whole lot of time spent with someone. So you kind of need to know who they are.
And no, you'll never get that out of one meeting. But that first meeting is important.
Getting to it is even more so.
The first thing that impressed me about the writer I met last week was her persistence. She emailed me several times -- never pushy, always leaving a respectful distance between queries, until we nailed down the meeting time. A lot of people screw that up right off the bat -- either by not following up (I have one focus when I'm writing, and that's the script I'm working on; I can be bad about getting back to people. Yup, it's a flaw, but it's also the flaw that makes it bearable to ride it out when people aren't getting back to me) or by being too forceful (cue the thoughts of the boiling bunny scene from Fatal Attraction.)
As in all conversations, things naturally progressed to the finding of common ground. We found out that we're kind of a similar type. I don't remember if I've said this before, so forgive me if I have, but I think personality-wise, most television writers are a mix of extrovert and introvert.
The true extroverts can never hack it, because there's so much time spent alone that it drives you crazy after awhile. And I think that true introverts, unless their pages are truly, truly stellar, are never going to make it, because so much of this job is constantly pitching, and re-pitching your ideas -- whether in a meeting or in the room, or to a producer, or to a network, or even -- if you magically make it to production -- a real live actor or director. If you're a real wallflower, you're not going to have much of a chance to show your bloom. You gotta be witty and odd and sharp and compelling.
When you're an extrovert-introvert, you sometimes need a way in. I know I'm bad in a social situation where I know NO ONE. That, I find daunting. Give me a few friendly faces, and I'll make my way just fine. But the funny thing is that because people who know me know me to be very gregarious and passionate, they assume I don't need the help -- even if I'm standing at the edge of the room, swimming in my own self-doubt and recrimination.
A lot of extrovert-introverts blanch at the thought of schmoozing. Schmoozing, of course, is smalltalk with intent. I've been schmoozed expertly and haplessly, and I've done both of those things myself. But it's just something you need to learn. It's not like having a 'no schmooze' rule will get you anywhere. There's a lot of starving and unemployed people with integrity.
So last week, I told this writer an anecdote that actually came from the wife of a friend of mine (and a friend of the blog, too, coinkidinkally.)
This person figures every time she goes to a party or social situation, you turn it into a game, and the game is this:
No matter what kind of person they are, no matter what they do, no matter how boring to you they seem, every person has at least one thing about them that's interesting.
Your job is to find that one thing out -- about everybody in the room.
I love this idea, because it kind of applies the craft of writing to a social situation. You have a task, (the project) there are lots of ways to achieve that task, (the craft) and it's a task you have to complete. (You have a deadline.)
And as a net bonus, you get to appear as a true extrovert and an active listener. Brilliant.
It was a referral from a colleague, just a normal sort of meet and greet to try and suss out and connect to future talent. You still can't shake the feeling that it's kind of like a job interview.
So I fired questions out -- what are your favorite TV shows; what do you like to read; what do you do when you're not writing; how did you come to writing; what's your experience; who've you worked with; what are you passionate about; where have you been; what's important to you?
I know these questions can be daunting, especially fired all in a row like that. I have a friendly demeanor, so that cuts it a bit. But if you notice anything in the pattern of the questions above, let it be this: I'm trying to find out as much about the person as the experience or taste they bring to writing. Because that's an important part of the collaborative process. I don't know who said it originally, but I know that Ken Levine has opined recently that you have to find a person that you could stand to drive cross-country with. Collaboration in TV means lots of long hours, weird times, strange intimacies (get your mind out of the guttter, I don't mean that way) and a whole lot of time spent with someone. So you kind of need to know who they are.
And no, you'll never get that out of one meeting. But that first meeting is important.
Getting to it is even more so.
The first thing that impressed me about the writer I met last week was her persistence. She emailed me several times -- never pushy, always leaving a respectful distance between queries, until we nailed down the meeting time. A lot of people screw that up right off the bat -- either by not following up (I have one focus when I'm writing, and that's the script I'm working on; I can be bad about getting back to people. Yup, it's a flaw, but it's also the flaw that makes it bearable to ride it out when people aren't getting back to me) or by being too forceful (cue the thoughts of the boiling bunny scene from Fatal Attraction.)
As in all conversations, things naturally progressed to the finding of common ground. We found out that we're kind of a similar type. I don't remember if I've said this before, so forgive me if I have, but I think personality-wise, most television writers are a mix of extrovert and introvert.
The true extroverts can never hack it, because there's so much time spent alone that it drives you crazy after awhile. And I think that true introverts, unless their pages are truly, truly stellar, are never going to make it, because so much of this job is constantly pitching, and re-pitching your ideas -- whether in a meeting or in the room, or to a producer, or to a network, or even -- if you magically make it to production -- a real live actor or director. If you're a real wallflower, you're not going to have much of a chance to show your bloom. You gotta be witty and odd and sharp and compelling.
When you're an extrovert-introvert, you sometimes need a way in. I know I'm bad in a social situation where I know NO ONE. That, I find daunting. Give me a few friendly faces, and I'll make my way just fine. But the funny thing is that because people who know me know me to be very gregarious and passionate, they assume I don't need the help -- even if I'm standing at the edge of the room, swimming in my own self-doubt and recrimination.
A lot of extrovert-introverts blanch at the thought of schmoozing. Schmoozing, of course, is smalltalk with intent. I've been schmoozed expertly and haplessly, and I've done both of those things myself. But it's just something you need to learn. It's not like having a 'no schmooze' rule will get you anywhere. There's a lot of starving and unemployed people with integrity.
So last week, I told this writer an anecdote that actually came from the wife of a friend of mine (and a friend of the blog, too, coinkidinkally.)
This person figures every time she goes to a party or social situation, you turn it into a game, and the game is this:
No matter what kind of person they are, no matter what they do, no matter how boring to you they seem, every person has at least one thing about them that's interesting.
Your job is to find that one thing out -- about everybody in the room.
I love this idea, because it kind of applies the craft of writing to a social situation. You have a task, (the project) there are lots of ways to achieve that task, (the craft) and it's a task you have to complete. (You have a deadline.)
And as a net bonus, you get to appear as a true extrovert and an active listener. Brilliant.
3 comments:
Excellent poast, D Mc G. I hope that someday I get to put all your experience into my practice :) !
But I wanted to come somewhere, and this seems as good a place as any to say, Happy Birthday, Julie Andrews! My first movie, Mary Poppins. My first love, you. Mwah~! <3<3<3
I hope THAT ^ is permissible and no violation of your blog charter.
That was very thoughtful and concise (checking for sarcasm.....clear! --lisa simpson "summer of 4 ft.2")
Nice post. The last of my autuer fantasies have faded. That said, I'm off to buy Billion Dollar Kiss because it sounds pretty cool.
Just wanted to post to everyone I met last night - it was a genuine pleasure.
Here's to more!
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