đ When do you walk away?
When you want some juice, but think you might be the one getting squeezed.
This weekâs rebroadcast brings together posts from 2006 and 2011 where John answers questions from writers about what to do when they get a bad feeling about their current project and/or collaborators.
So Iâm doing it again. Writing on a project that I feel in my gut is doomed. Itâs paying me money and I know many writers are looking for that first paying gig. This is my umpteenth paying gig, and somehow Iâm not really that much further along in my career than I was four years ago when I started. But I am a bit wiser. Wise enough to know when producers and development execs are really out to lunch. But apparently not wise enough to jump off this sinking ship.
At what point do you pull the plug? You know, youâre getting notes that make no sense. Youâre executing a project that is someone elseâs âideaââŠthough you know full well this someone doesnât realize that his idea is nothing yetâŠnot until you deliver a script that will undoubtedly be everything he did not imagine (because he really hasnât imagined anything at all).
When do you save yourself the embarrassment and heartache and suddenly become âunavailable due to a scheduling conflict.â Yes, sometimes the most unlikely projects fraught with problems go on to become successes. But my experience also tells me that is the exception and that doing it ârightâ has a higher likelihood of turning out a creatively successful product. Whatâs John Augustâs tipping point? When does he leap? What are the danger signs that make John August say, âMy employers are completely whacked and Iâm catching the next bus out of hereâ?
â Skip
Vancouver
Often, the only power a screenwriter has is to walk away, and the decision whether to do it is almost never straightforward. But there are a few key points to consider:
Write movies, not scripts.
Always recognize that the words scrolling up and down on your monitor are the means to an end, not the end itself. An unproduced screenplay is like blueprints for an unbuilt skyscraper â brilliance is irrelevant if it never gets made. So ask yourself: âAm I giving up because of a fundamental concern about the movie, or a concern about the script?â The former is valid, the latter isnât.
Donât do free repairs on sinking ships.
The Writers Guild (or the Canadian equivalent) would like to remind you that youâre never supposed to do free rewrites, but the reality is that for a project you believe in, youâre willing to do whatever it takes to get it right. But if youâre questioning the producersâ commitment to the project, ask to get paid for that next batch of tiny tweaks. If they balk, itâs that much easier to walk.
Set some objectives and deadlines.
Agree to do that next pass, but only if theyâll commit to taking it out to directors. Insist on having the follow up meeting this week, not a month from now. Donât let it drag out.
Write your own notes.
Before the next revision, give them a set of written notes about what you want to do. Let that be the template. If theyâre not on board, itâs clearly time to move on.
If itâs any consolation, the decision of when to cut oneâs losses never gets easier. I had to walk away from both Charlieâs Angels movies when they completely went off the rails, only to come back later. More recently, I had to let Tarzan go, after more than a year of work.
In both cases, I felt profound frustration and disappointment, both in myself and the people whoâd hired me. It wasnât just the amount of wasted work, but the sense that I was abandoning my creations. The characters were real to me, and now wouldnât get a chance to live.
The only upside I can offer is that once you leave a project, you remember how many other movies you want to write. Shutting one door opens others.
Endless Producer Notes
My writing partner and I are young ânobodiesâ trying to write for film and television. While weâve worked in the industry for years and have written a lot of work, weâre still fighting to get represented or to make a sale. Hereâs where the question comes in:
About a year ago we got hooked up with a producer from a major studio who was willing to read our work and develop scripts with us. Heâd read some work of ours and said that he liked the writing. Thatâs great! After bouncing around some of our ideas we began working on an original idea of his.
We spent hours upon hours putting together draft after draft and adjusting to an onslaught of notes that we would get back. Every time would be, âthis is good butâŠâ and then he would ask us to change the whole story. We would oblige (because weâre nobodies and heâs a working producer) and then start from scratch, re-build the story and write another draft. Most of the notes we were applying were things that we didnât agree with and felt that they took the script in a direction we didnât like. This was an endless cycle. But we dealt with it â in hopes that it would matter.
Eventually we finally got a story that he âlikedâ (because he apparently no longer liked the story he pitched us originally) and we thought we were ready for him to show it around to other producers or to agents/managers but instead heâs asked that we sit with him and go through the script line by line so that he can correct it. Line. By. Line.
We know that notes are part of the process and weâre very receptive to constructive criticism but seeing as how weâre not getting paid for this work and heâs basically asking us to transcribe his every thought into Final Draft (thoughts we donât even see eye to eye on) â at what point are we just being abused and wasting our time?
Seeing as this is the biggest connection that we have and the best chance weâve seen so far to have any sort of âbreak-inâ weâre desperately holding on to it but it keeps feeling more and more demeaning and pointless. Thoughts?
â Brandon and Gabriel
Los Angeles, CA
Your suspicions are correct: this wonât stop until you make it stop.
Youâre essentially doing spec work â writing without getting paid. While you own the words youâve written, the producer can (reasonably) claim some ownership of the story. Heâll be attached to whatever screenplay you end up with.
But take comfort: youâre not alone.
This is a very common situation for screenwriters at the beginning of their careers. In fact, Iâd guess that most working screenwriters have an anecdote similar to yours.
I spent six months rewriting a draft of my first screenplay with a former development executive who I later realized had few connections and zero ability to actually get a movie made. She pinned all my hopes on getting one agent at CAA to read my script. We waited two months to get a perfunctory pass.
As aggravating as the experience was, I can also look at it from her perspective: she invested many hours reading and meeting with me. She truly believed in my script, and wanted to make it better. The worst I can fault her for is over-estimating her abilities as a producer.
I suspect the situation is similar with your producer. He sees himself as a Good Guy, and doesnât hear your groans of annoyance.
Your challenge now is to find a way out of this bad situation while maintaining a good relationship. Before starting on any new work, you need to have a conversation with him about exactly what the next steps will be.
For starters, you need an agent or a manager. Conveniently, he deals with agents and managers all the time, so he needs to pick up the phone and call a few on your behalf.
He may balk at first, not wanting to send out the script youâre writing for him. Thatâs fine. You have other writing samples. Agents and managers should be reading them.
You also need to set some mutual deadlines. âSo, weâll get you these changes on Tuesday. Then weâre going to send it to (appropriate director) to read for the weekend, right?â
Just so you know, these situations never really end. Producer notes will always grow to fill the amount of time you have â and then bleed past the edges. Even with an agent or manager to play bad cop, screenwriters are constantly balancing the need to keep producers happy and keep the process moving along. Thatâs part of the job.
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đŁ Have ideas for future topics (or just want to say hello)? Reach out to Chris via email at inneresting@johnaugust.com, Mastodon @ccsont@mastodon.art, or Threads @ccsont@threads.net