“Missed Opportunities and Second Chances”
On his blog John August has been posting some first person accounts by writers on how they have broken into the business. This week he featured a young woman who has not quite made it yet. From his blog:
Melissa Rossi won a Student Academy Award for her university thesis film. That success prompted her to move to Los Angeles to begin a career as a writer/director. But she wasn’t ready.
She writes in to discuss what she wishes she had known, and what she’s doing differently to be ready the next time.
Here are some excerpts:
Then, there was what came next.
Whether on the phone, or in person, literary agents and the like all wanted to know the same thing. There was some small talk and some congratulations, and then, always, always, THE QUESTION: “So, Melissa, what else do you have?”
This stopped me in my tracks. What else did I have? I had a solid short film and…a bunch of ideas?
— —
Then I scrambled like mad to make it happen. I referenced all my screenwriting books, watched my favorite films in that genre, and wrote for hours every day. It was fast, furious, and the thought of becoming a real writer made my heart pound like it never has. I silenced the voice in my head that told me I had no idea what I was doing, and just did my best. I ended up with 118 glorious pages of action, dialogue, and sluglines, and after pulling an all-nighter making last minute tweaks and triple checking for typos, I drove to Beverly Hills on a Friday morning, bleary eyed and frazzled, and started handing out my very first screenplay.
One manager who had shown particular interest in me said he would read it over the weekend, and I should come back on Monday morning. I was elated, terrified, and exhausted. When I met him that next Monday, I was beyond nervous. The past weeks were a blur and I had no idea what he would think.
“You have a very nice little script here,” he said. Hmmmm. Interesting word choice.
“Have you ever thought about writing a comedy? You know, like your short film?”
— —
If I could look my twenty-two-year-old self in the eye and give her some advice, it would be this: Stick to your genre, at least in the beginning.
People are attracted to your work for a reason. If you made a comedy, they’re probably looking for comedies.
— —
I set a goal that day: To write a script that was so good, it would be virtually impossible for someone to even consider putting it in their reject pile.
— —
I’ve read over and over from working writers that worrying about “how to get an agent” is a waste of time — to concentrate on the work and the rest will follow. I hope this is true. Because that’s what I’ve been doing.
I wish Melissa the best of luck. I also wish I had been writing my “Business of Screenwriting” series back in 2005 when she first ventured to L.A. because maybe she could have avoided some of the lessons she learned the hard way. For instance:
* “There was some small talk and some congratulations, and then, always, always, THE QUESTION: “So, Melissa, what else do you have?” I wish my TBOS post “You always need more than one in your gun” had been around back in 2005 because of this piece of advice I offered:
You may think that spec script you’re working on is a million dollar concept. Great. Let’s say you sell it. All the subsequent meetings you get will almost immediately involve this question coming up: “What are you working on next?” If you don’t have more than one idea in your gun, those promise to be damn short meetings.
* “If I could look my twenty-two-year-old self in the eye and give her some advice, it would be this: Stick to your genre, at least in the beginning.” I wish that twenty-two-year-old could have seen this TBOS post “They will pigeonhole you”:
The co-star of K-9 was a dog named Jerry Lee.
A few years later, we landed an assignment in which the key characters were superhero mutant frogs.
Not long after that, we landed another assignment in which the hero was a pig.
That’s right: Dogs. Frogs. Hogs.
This did not happen by chance. As soon as K-9 sold, my name went on a variety of writing lists. Evidently one of them was “Animals.”
Believe it or not, we were offered even other animal projects: whales, kangaroos, monkeys. That is a microcosm of how Hollywood operates: They pigeonhole you [animal pun intended].
* “I’ve read over and over from working writers that worrying about ‘how to get an agent’ is a waste of time — to concentrate on the work and the rest will follow. I hope this is true. Because that’s what I’ve been doing.” Although I’ve yet to write it as a TBOS column, how many times have I posted something like this:
On the first day of this current LA trip, I had coffee with Dan [Halsted] yesterday [Dan was my first agent and is now a successful manager-producer]. Dan told me whenever he’s a guest speaker in a class for college or graduate students, the first thing they invariably ask him is, “How do I get an agent.” And this is Dan’s stock response: “If you write it, we’ll find you.”
By “it,” of course, Dan means a great script. And Dan is absolutely right. Everyone associated with the movie industry is constantly searching for great scripts.
At the bottom of every TBOS column, I include this note:
The Business of Screenwriting is a weekly series of GITS posts based upon my experiences as a complete Hollywood outsider who sold a spec script for a lot of money, parlayed that into a screenwriting career during which time I’ve made some good choices, some okay decisions, and some really stupid ones. Hopefully you’ll be the wiser for what you learn here.
May everyone who reads The Business of Screenwriting column on Thursday mornings learn a least a few lessons that will help them avoid making the same mistakes I did.
And I hope Melissa gets that second chance. She deserves it.
For the rest of Melissa’s essay, go here.
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