Tweetstorm: Eric Heisserer on When a Writer Should Walk Away From a Project

A series of tweets on a tricky topic for writers.

Twitter can be a gold mine for writers. Case in point, when pro writers decide to go on a rant about the craft, such as Eric Heisserer, who occasionally will sidle up to Twitter with a libation at hand, and lay down some flat-out wisdom, 140 characters at a time.

Last week, Eric took on a difficult issue: When a writer should walk away from a project. The entire thread of tweets reprinted here with permission from Eric (@HIGHzurrer):

Tonight’s topic: The tremulous internal question of when to walk away.

When do you know it’s time to bail on a project? When do you realize you’ve run out of track, or lost sight of what matters?

How does a professional writer separate or marry the aspect of freelance employment for a client with the aspect of personal passion?

In short, when do you quit?

The problem is different — but just as hard — at any stage in a screenwriter’s career. At the start you need gigs to leave your day job.

Later, you need to protect your brand while also building relationships with studios/employers, so it becomes a dangerous balancing act.

I’ve often used the analogy of “architect vs laborer” in terms of the way a writer can be used by an employer. It holds true even now.

You can’t predict with much accuracy how an employer will treat you or your project. Especially if it’s a job they bring you. It’s tough.

So let’s talk about the myriad ways things can go awry, and how to spot the problems as early as possible.

One: You and your employer have a different movie/show in their heads. Usually this means you never get hired, but dynamics change.

But because I was contractually obligated to deliver a draft, my new job became mediator. Genetic experimenter. “Will this work?” (No.)

Even worse, I realized my reference point for the project was THE LAST STARFIGHTER, so no one was going to be happy. I had to walk away.

And this isn’t because any of us was WRONG, mind you. It’s quite possible any version of that would work. I just wasn’t the guy for theirs.

You will also find employers who are so happy to have the project underway, they will sleep through your important tonal references.

Then, when the script is delivered, suddenly their alarm bells go off and they finally come to you with a startlingly different concept.

That one hurts right in the gut. Because you did your job, and fell in love with that version. Now they want a brand new baby.

There are other times when you are treated early on as an architect, until the project crosses a milestone and now you’re a hardhat.

“Install this toilet in the kitchen,” they say. “Uhhh, that’s a really bad idea, trust me I’m an expert.” But oh ho ho, not anymore.

That’s not because any one employer is actively looking to manipulate you, it’s typically just their belief in their own story expertise.

I’ve had an executive tell me, “That’s not what horror is.” And it’s not to belittle me, it’s because they truly believe they’re a SME.

So what do you do in that instant? If you walk, does it create an industry reputation for you as “troublesome”? Unwilling to take notes?

Or is it your responsibility to protect what you’re passionate about; what you believe in? What is more valuable — the job, or the heart?

I can’t preach what will work for you, I can only point out that this question will eventually hit you, and so be ready for it.

Remember that you can absolutely keep working on jobs that don’t provide you any fulfillment, but what beyond money are you getting from it?

Some need you to be passionate and a staunch defender of the core elements of a project you believe vital. Some just want you to take notes.

That’s how you get showrunners-for-hire and other people entrenched in network systems even though they may be hazardous to the show.

It’s a tough, delicate situation to know you have to walk away and to play it respectfully. Not just to your employer, but yourself.

Walking away might be the difference between ditching that Starbucks day job or having to keep it. It’s painful.

What’s more painful is living with compromises you believe in your heart were detrimental to a project. Really.

There are a million different voices in this town. If you get hired, you have a priority to deliver in your own voice. Be true to that.

If people want something different at the end of it, you can go with the knowledge that you delivered your best version of the thing.

There are big properties at studios that have been developed for years. Some more than a decade. Execs want a buffet of options sometimes.

And of course you can be a frog in a pot of water that slowly boils to death, too. Little changes mutate the project until it’s broken.

I’ve done a year of work on a project where the goal posts were gradually moved until suddenly I found myself in the wrong neighborhood.

This happened with SE7EN — nine drafts in, it was an buddy-action movie with wisecracking cops and no head in a box anywhere.

Fincher was the one who dusted off the first draft and said, “THIS is the movie.” And so it was.

There are plenty of other ways a project can change, and for pragmatic reasons. Your 1-hour drama centered on an 11-yr-old? Unproduceable.

Child labor laws require limited hours of work for minorities, so those 14-hour shoot days are gone and now you have no show.

And if THAT is what they take away from you, it’s totally respectable to walk away then.

You may follow Eric on Twitter: @HIGHzurrer.

You may read my April 2013 interview with Eric here.

[Originally posted January 26, 2015]

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