“I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script”

A H/T to GITS reader Paul Sanford who forwarded me this link to a Village Voice piece by screenwriter Josh Olson with the provocative title “I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script.” Here are some key excerpts:

I will not read your fucking script.

That’s simple enough, isn’t it? “I will not read your fucking script.” What’s not clear about that? There’s nothing personal about it, nothing loaded, nothing complicated. I simply have no interest in reading your fucking screenplay. None whatsoever.

If that seems unfair, I’ll make you a deal. In return for you not asking me to read your fucking script, I will not ask you to wash my fucking car, or take my fucking picture, or represent me in fucking court, or take out my fucking gall bladder, or whatever the fuck it is that you do for a living.

You’re a lovely person. Whatever time we’ve spent together has, I’m sure, been pleasurable for both of us. I quite enjoyed that conversation we once had about structure and theme, and why Sergio Leone is the greatest director who ever lived. Yes, we bonded, and yes, I wish you luck in all your endeavors, and it would thrill me no end to hear that you had sold your screenplay, and that it had been made into the best movie since Godfather Part II.

But I will not read your fucking script.

Presumably what provoked Olson to go public in the Village Voice is a recent experience with a friend of a friend who requested that Olson read his two-page story synopsis. It’s a long and rather miserable tale where in the end nobody benefits and everybody’s pissed off. I’ll let you read that unpleasant saga yourself. But before I comment on Olson’s central point, a few other excerpts:

Which brings us to an ugly truth about many aspiring screenwriters: They think that screenwriting doesn’t actually require the ability to write, just the ability to come up with a cool story that would make a cool movie. Screenwriting is widely regarded as the easiest way to break into the movie business, because it doesn’t require any kind of training, skill or equipment. Everybody can write, right? And because they believe that, they don’t regard working screenwriters with any kind of real respect. They will hand you a piece of inept writing without a second thought, because you do not have to be a writer to be a screenwriter.

I think this is an overstatement. I can’t think of one student I’ve worked with who has had this attitude. Why would they spend time and money taking a screenwriting class if they thought they didn’t need any training or education in the craft? That’s also the case with non-students who have approached me about reading their material. The only people I’ve known who’ve had a flippant attitude about the craft of screenwriting are the ones who talk about writing a script, but never manage to finish writing one.

You are not owed a read from a professional, even if you think you have an in, and even if you think it’s not a huge imposition. It’s not your choice to make. This needs to be clear — when you ask a professional for their take on your material, you’re not just asking them to take an hour or two out of their life, you’re asking them to give you — gratis — the acquired knowledge, insight, and skill of years of work. It is no different than asking your friend the house painter to paint your living room during his off hours.

This is true. No professional writer owes anybody a read. A vast majority of people who have asked me to read something they’ve written have approached me with respect and understanding, only a handful not grasping how much of a time-suck reading and responding can be. And why is a writer’s time such a big deal? Olson describes something all professional writers can relate to:

Now, I normally have a standard response to people who ask me to read their scripts, and it’s the simple truth: I have two piles next to my bed. One is scripts from good friends, and the other is manuscripts and books and scripts my agents have sent to me that I have to read for work. Every time I pick up a friend’s script, I feel guilty that I’m ignoring work. Every time I pick something up from the other pile, I feel guilty that I’m ignoring my friends. If I read yours before any of that, I’d be an awful person.

Piles of reading material. By the bed. Oh God, yes. And every time I rifle through those piles, two things happen: (1) I go through an imprecise calculation of factors to determine what I will read tonight. (2) I will feel guilty about not getting to the other material in a timely fashion. So whenever someone asks me to read something, I know I will be living with a nightly recurrence of that experience — which means I have to overcome those negative associations in order to say ‘yes.’

And yet, more often than not, I do say ‘yes.’ That’s because while I certainly understand where Olson is coming from and can relate to much of his experience, I think of writing — and perhaps life — differently than he (apparently) does.

Writing, creativity, life is a process. It’s organic. How we write changes. How we create changes. How we live changes. For me to determine that this person or that can not be or become a good / successful writer is — in my view — preposterous. I only have to think back on my first screenplays [insert wince here] to realize the truth of that sentiment. Fortunately I threw myself into an intensive self-education — analyzing every script, watching every movie, reading every book I could — and emerged with a 20-year run as a working screenwriter.

But the point stands: My early writing sucked. Yet I evolved into a good writer. So the very idea of being able to conclude with any authority a person’s full potential as a writer is one I find dubious at best.

Moreover by not opening myself up to aspiring screenwriters, I would miss out on the sheer joy of knowing that someone I’ve taught, mentored, or helped has gone on to find success in the business. Several of my students have careers in L.A. as working writers. Others I’ve steered to managers or agents for representation and they’re in the process of establishing themselves as screenwriters. There is a special satisfaction that comes with doing one’s part to enable those successes.

From an even more macro view, I view the activity of writing to be more than about selling a spec script. Writing is a conduit to self-understanding and self-exploration. If my comments on a script or story can help steer that writer into digging deeper into their characters, and therefore deeper into their ‘Self,’ then I’m fine with that. It may seem like a small thing, but can we really minimize the value of people learning more about Who They Are through the creative process?

Bottom line: Every writer has the right to define their boundaries on the issue of whether to read outsiders’ material or not. Olson has made his decision. Fine. If he’s the yin regarding this issue, then people such as myself are the yang. And if the more ‘spiritual’ components of my perspective may prove elusive to those with a more hardened stance, there’s this to consider:

I’m a professional writer. The help I got from other writers when I was breaking in is why I read new writers now.

This a comment from John B. in response to Olson’s piece. This will either make logical sense to someone or not. To me, it’s completely logical.

And so I will continue with my policy: If you write a great script, you may contact me about the possibility of me reading it. I may choose to read it.

That will save you having to take up any of Mr. Olson’s time.

UPDATE: Brilliant send-up by Hollywood Roaster in this blast titled “Cronenberg not willing to read josh olson’s fucking script”:

‘We do one movie together and the guy won’t leave me alone’ says director

Ever since he collaborated with screenwriter Josh Olson on ‘A History Of Violence,’ director David Cronenberg has been struggling to keep up with Olson’s numerous requests to read the latest draft of “whatever script he thinks is pure genius this week.”

“If I knew Josh was going to be this much trouble, I would’ve just written the damn movie myself,” said Cronenberg. “I mean, seriously, it was nearly five years ago and he’s still convinced I give a fuck about his third pass on some script that probably won’t get made anyway.”

Read the rest. Trust me, it’s worth it to read ‘Olson’s response’ to Cronenberg.

Man, I’ll say one thing: Olson’s Village Voice piece zoomed around the Web today. I must have seen 20 Facebook posts highlighting it.

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