I give up.
Dear Doc Turner,
I can’t do it.
I’m exhausted.
Why are my story ideas getting shot down?
I consider myself a writer, but putting together a logline has been more frustrating than writing an entire screenplay.
You may think you learned all you need to know about how to take a pitch meeting in Paige’s last column.
But that’s just the beginning of the story.
Here’s Part Two of her reply to “The Beav” about movie pitch meetings – the fantasy and the reality.
Over to you Paige.
B.E.
Dearest Eager,
What could possibly go wrong in a pitch meeting?
E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.
As in anything possible, as well as things far beyond the furthest stretch of your imagination.
I’ve taken a seat on either side of the desk many a time. I’ve donned The Exec Hat, as well as worn a fetching Producer’s Chapeau, and let me tell you dear reader, just when you feel confident that you know how to pitch a movie idea, and what to expect in a pitch meeting, SURPRISE! Your sweet fantasy can turn into a terrifying nightmare in a flash.
Look politely off into the distance. Strive for invisibility.
It just keeps ringing. Smoothest pitcher I ever saw in this situation said, “And then the phone rang,” and kept right on going with her story. Now that’s how to pitch a movie idea!
They have something similar in development and are cutting you off because they don’t want to get sued. Have another pitch or two prepared. Act as if you are unfazed. Nonchalantly josh, “Well you certainly have great taste,” and move on. “I’ve got a smart comedy with romance and a broad teen comedy. Would one of those be up your alley?”
It hurts like hell as all the air is sucked out of the room, but you must press onward, pitching through the pain. Cut it as short as possible. Go for the highly condensed CliffsNotes version.
Those are pretty run of the mill scenarios that every writer should be prepared to face. I’ve survived meeting disasters too outlandish to be believable in a movie. A few are simply too painful to for me recount, but here are a few that put many horror movies to shame.
Yes.
Really.
I was having a delightful time developing a smart, high-concept thriller with a terribly handsome writer who had captivating green eyes and a sexy English accent. He was brilliant and a terrific storyteller however, when spotted strolling the halls of a studio, his agent’s phone rang with calls from woman execs eager to meet with him.
I booked pitch meetings all around the town. We were set for a late afternoon pitch when the Exec’s (presumably) busy schedule left us cooling our heels in the waiting room. Reluctant to simply bail, we stuck it out until at last, we were shown into the conference room dominated by a huge, round table.
By this time it was dark. The Exec sat across the vast expanse from us, parked her elbow on the table and propped her head up with her hand. As the hot writer pitched his heart out, ever so slowly, the Exec began sliding…
down…
down…
down…
along the polished wood surface.
The writer jumped up and began animatedly acting out what happened next.
Tragic.
My all-time favorite fiasco story comes from my gal pal Barri Evins who, as President of Debra Hill’s company, at one point had an office in the production trailer for Escape From LA. While hearing a pitch from a husband and wife team, one of the three doors to her office popped open and there was Kurt Russell, in his tighty-whities.
Kurt, ecstatic that fifteen years later he could still fit into his original Snake Plissken outfit, was expecting to find a costume designer on the other side of the door.
The writers, seated in the corner, couldn’t see a thing.
Kurt and Barri however, shared quite the wide-eyed double take.
Talk about “Pitch us interruptus!”
No lesson here about how to pitch a movie idea, other than “Expect the unexpected.”
Sweet dreams!
Dearest Dr. Turner,
One thing that will make my life complete.
There is only one thing in the world that I want, need, dream of night and day.
One thing that will make me a success.
An agent.
Please tell me how I can get an agent of my very own.
Help me Paige!
Despairingly,
Ari Longing
Dearest A.L.,
You are not alone.
Countless writers believe that landing an agent is the Holy Grail of the screenwriting business.
“Oh, if I only had an agent, life would be perfect.”
Here’s the short answer, although I’m not certain it will leave you satisfied.
A vicious conundrum, yes?
But not an impossible quest.
Here’s how:
If this is your chosen business, educate yourself on the players.
The Internet offers countless ways to learn about who is working in the industry, their studio deals, their projects, and their staff, plus all the contact info you could want provided you’re willing to pay a few bucks.
Bone up on who’s doing what. Read Variety, The Hollywood Reporter or Deadline Hollywood for information on new deals, new projects, executives with new jobs and newly promoted agents and execs. Check out what new companies are looking for and what buyer or buyers they have relationships with. These articles are a wealth of information. And information is the currency that agents deal in. Information is powerful because it leads to sales.
Pony up some cash to get up to date, specific contact information such as with IMDbPro.
They offer a free 30-day trial and then the option of monthly or annual plans. It is a veritable gold mine of information on individuals, companies, projects past and in pre-production, plus trade articles that have even more scoop. There is in-depth contact information. There are even blogs on how to make the most of the information, such as How to find entertainment industry professionals I want to work with?
Hunt for people who are hungry. They need you! They’re looking for you. They’re starving for that great idea or talented new writer. Be the needle in the haystack, Grasshopper.
You have the best shot with newly minted development execs and assistants eager to become dev execs, as well as agency assistants hoping to become agents. They have the most to gain from “discovering” you or your project.
Don’t make the mistake of only going for the Big Fish. He’s not hungry. Know what their boss likes – whether it’s from reading about their projects/sales or interviews with them, and pitch that to them.
Target your query letters specifically to them. Know what their boss/company needs – whether from reading about their projects, sales, online interviews or job announcements – and pitch that to them. Do your homework!
If you find the hungry exec at a production company where the company principal, aka 3000 lb. Gorilla, might be interested in your project, they are THE perfect person to get you an agent. Asking the right person to read your script can lead to asking them – or them offering – to get you an agent.
Young Exec gets points for finding a potential project and a promising writer. Since she has been busily building relationships with new agents who are moving up the ranks side-by-side with her, she knows Eager Agent who needs clients. Young Exec offers him a known quantity, not a script that was just “thrown over the transom.” She’s pitching the agent a writer she thinks is talented, possibly with a project that’s already getting some traction.
It’s the film industry version of matchmaking.
If Eager Agent and Aspiring Writer “hook up,” Young Exec is everyone’s darling. She will likely get a little special consideration: an early look at Aspiring Writer’s next project, and will be “on the list” when Eager Agent goes out with Aspiring Writer’s next spec. It’s a Win-Win-Win.
This is how career-long industry relationships are cemented.
There are lots of steps that go into making The Win-Win-Win happen, and the time to start is yesterday! Do not wait until you’ve completed a script to start building relationships. Find all the scoop on how and why to network to pave the way for your own Win-Win-Win in my article, The # 1 Secret to Getting Read & Getting Ahead.
It’s essential to be in the know about the specific politics and etiquette of the industry as you build relationships to avoid any mistake or blunders. Read up on the inside jargon and pointers in my article, Inside Screenwriting Industry Politics to master the strict yet unspoken rules you must navigate to survive and thrive.
Without meaning to shatter your dream entirely, I must add one more thing.
Maybe you need an entirely new perspective. First, check out this video “Be Your Own Agent:”
Trust me, A.L., it’s empowering.
Many writers find this to be an easier, more accessible path. A good manager will guide your career, read your work and give feedback, offer invaluable advice on what to write next, and yes – they will recommend you to an agent when the time is right!
Not to blow your mind with this suggestion. All of these practical pointers apply to meeting your Dream Manager. Until then, find out how you can make the all important decision, “What to Write Next” here.
Ooh, it’s getting late Mr. Longing, I’m heading to bed.
Wishing you sweet dreams!
Time to address a little correspondence from that overflowing email in box of mine.
You need answers. You deserve good ones.
I’m handing over today’s Q & A to the scintillating and smart Dr. Paige Turner.
I have every confidence she will deliver.
H-e-e-e-e-r-e’s Paige!
B.E.
Dear Doc Turner,
Long time reader; first time writer.
I have this fantasy that I just can’t get out of my head. I’m sitting in a well-appointed office. I’m enveloped in a big, leather chair. Everyone in the room is focused on me, waiting with baited breath. I can tell that they want me.
I’m taking a meeting.
A real, live, industry movie pitch meeting.
But that’s where the fantasy ends.
I’m simply dying to know what happens next.
Please tell me how this torrid tale plays out!
Eager Beaver
Dear Beav,
There’s nothing wrong with fantasy. Indulge yourself, you naughty writer you! Let your mind run wild with thoughts of driving off afterwards in the back seat of a limo.
But that’s a bit of a stretch. Here’s a taste of reality:
You will kill yourself to get to the meeting on time. When did LA traffic get this bad? Why doesn’t the studio map make sense?
Then you will wait. Your heart will pound with excitement and nerves. This meeting could change your life. Or you could throw up.
While you wait, you will be given water. If you take a lot of meetings, you will accumulate an impressive collection of half-drunk water bottles rolling around in the backseat of your car.
Trust me Beav, if there’s any rolling around going on in your backseat, it ought to be you and a companion.
Eventually, you will be ushered into the inner sanctum. Introductions are made.
Next, comes a charming ritual dance, performed to the tune of “Who Sits Where.” This game of musical chairs is ever more entertaining the more people there are in the room. You may have a co-writer with you or a producer. The Exec may have a Junior Exec along for the ride. Everyone grasps the convoluted subtext here and will do-si-do accordingly.
Mr. Big has his own, personal chair. Wait for him to sit so you don’t inadvertently park your own toochis in it. Once his position has been determined, then seat yourself. Here’s the important part – ensure that you are in his direct eye line.
Greet the Junior with enthusiasm! They may well rise up through the ranks one day. Then ignore them. Their little head will be hunkered down in frantic note-taking as, at present, that’s their sole purpose in the room.
Your producer should seat themselves where they can watch Big’s reaction, not you. This way, they can give you feedback in the post-meeting debrief on what’s working and what’s not.
If, by some chance, you do not have water at this point, Big will insist on having you watered as though the success of the entire meeting depends on your being wet. Regardless, you will barely have a chance to take more than a single sip.
NOTE: If you are at Disney, the Big Studio Exec will put his feet up on the table, sit on the back of the chair, or in some way oddly interact with the furniture in the pitch meeting.
I do not know why this is so. I can only say that I have observed this phenomenon many times. Far too many for it to be mere coincidence.
I suspect a secret Disney Studio Exec Handbook exists advising that intentionally treating the furniture as if you were hanging out at home injects a pseudo sense of laidback casualness into a meeting.
In fact, it is simply perplexing.
There will definitely be some. The Exec will lead the way, but it doesn’t hurt to have some lines of your own. Remarking about the weather is painfully cliché. You might bring up a successful recent film release; an exciting casting coup. A likely topic is the script that got you through the door. There has to have been one, otherwise, what’s the point of him meeting with you anyway?
Time to get down to business. If you’re there with a producer, they should have a tidy preamble all prepared; hit a few key points, then toss the ball to you. If not, it’s your job to shift seamlessly into the movie pitch, setting the tone of your film as you do.
Exec will inevitably have some questions. And you will have good answers. If he simply gushes, you are probably dead in the water. Best-case scenario, he makes a few suggestions. Why? It’s how he makes his imprint on your work. To be blunt, he’s peeing on your story. You gamely praise his ideas. If you think they are truly off base, even “cray-cray,” throw in a “Hmm, fascinating! I’ll have to give that some serious thought.”
Perhaps you bat ideas back and forth. Fabulous – they’re engaged! They might ask what else you are working on. You have a succinct answer targeted to the company’s taste and mandate. Hopefully, they like what they hear and ask you to keep them posted. Bravo! A line of communication has been opened! Chances are slim that this pitch is going somewhere, but he likes you and your work enough to want more.
We all know that a writer’s life is a solitary one. You struggle, isolated and alone. Suddenly, there you are in a room full of people hanging on your every word. It feels pretty damn good. Of course, they don’t want to hurt your feelings, but there’s no way you’re staying for breakfast.
Uncrossing their legs. Capping their pen. Leaning forward and scooting to the edge of the chair as if about to rise. Be sure to catch them. If you’ve spotted all of these, you have overstayed your welcome. Say something charming and make your exit, souvenir water bottle in hand.
Seems simple, doesn’t it? What could go possibly go wrong in a pitch meeting?
TV writing is the place to be right now. Writers would do anything to break into TV writing with exceptional new series gaining popularity, top talent signing on, and new content providers popping up right and left. Plus there’s the opportunity to create sweeping character arcs that span seasons.
While there are more paths to writing for TV than ever before for, my story – I promise you – is one of a kind.
As President of Debra Hill’s production company, my job was to bring in and set up new projects and move current projects into production. Moving projects forward is like pushing a massive boulder up a steep, craggy hill: a Sisyphean task.
The best way to make it easier is by getting more people to push with you. In the film business, that means packaging. “Can we add a director or a star to make this project more appealing to a studio?”
I needed to build more relationships with the people who ran companies for actors and directors, so I could bring appropriate projects to them. My Junior Exec and I scoured the list of studio deals and came up with a group of people that I wanted to meet. Then I’d make a couple of cold calls each day, to ask for a lunch, drinks, or a general meeting.
I met a lot of great people that way, learned what their companies were looking for, and formed relationships that would be productive for us both.
But even the best of plans can go awry.
At the time, actress Helen Hunt had a deal at Sony, where she had made the big disaster film, Twister. Sony was also the producer of her popular television series Mad About You. I wasn’t quite certain what we would do together, but we had a lot of great relationships with Sony execs who would be open to our projects. We set a meeting at their offices.
Helen’s lovely Junior Exec surprised me by bringing in her boss, the Head of the company, who had been Helen Hunt’s manager and was now her producing partner. Without a specific agenda, this was pretty much a blind date. We were getting to know each other and seeing if there was and chemistry.
The personal ad for a production company isn’t: “We like long walks on the beach, go to the gym every day and look equally good in jeans as in a little black dress.” Our introduction is our projects. Talking about the stories we are passionate about bringing to the screen is how we say, “This is what we like; this is who we are.”
After some chitchat about spinning – a form of exercise that still scares me – I launched into pitching our projects. I am a good pitcher. I was passionate about these projects, and I could pitch them while hanging upside down by my ankles over a pit of alligators.
Delighted that there was a spark, I launched into our English language remake of an award-winning Spanish film, El Dia de La Bestia, The Day of the Beast. a dark horror-comedy about three very different men brought together to save the world from the pending apocalypse. It was edgy and offbeat, but Debra and I had responded to the great male characters, their arcs, and the quest. In our minds, it was reminiscent of The Fisher King, about two men and a quest, a very special film that Debra had produced which garnered numerous accolades including five Oscar nominations.
I was about to plunge on when the Producer stopped me. She really liked this idea. So did the Junior. Could they see the film? Umm, there’s no role for Helen Hunt here. The main character is a priest for God’s sake!
Could we change it? Make the priest a nun? Not really.
I knew this wouldn’t be their cup of tea, but they were excited. Although I tried, I simply couldn’t politely discourage them.
There was some interest in an original idea that Debra had for a film, the project I believed would be perfect for Helen. Indeed, it was a commercial idea, and later became the basis for a series that someone else produced before we could get it off the ground. But nothing could diminish their excitement about The Day of the Beast.
I returned to the office, chagrined at what I had inadvertently accomplished, and now had to report to my boss. Debra and I tried to strategize a way to get out of the screening. I had a one-page description of the film. I’d send it over and surely, with more information, they’d realize that it wasn’t for them.
Nope. They definitely wanted to set up a screening at the Sony lot.
From there, it simply snowballed. They wanted Helen to see the movie too. If Helen was coming, Debra had to join us. Since Helen was screening something, her Studio Exec was interested as well. As Helen was going to be on the lot, the President of Production wanted to stop by to say hello before we began. An innocent, “We like long walks on the beach” had turned into meeting the family and friends.
On the day of the screening, I was running late. Well, that’s pretty much a natural state of being for me. From our offices in Santa Monica, I hit the 10 Freeway, pushing 80 MPH in the fast lane headed for Culver City. I had to get there first.
I ran to the screening room, flung open the door, and was incredibly relieved to see that only Debra and Helen’s execs had arrived. Whew! I had time to go to the restroom and catch my breath.
Sprinting down the hall, I was back in a flash. I flung open the screening room door, prepared to rush inside – completely unaware that Helen Hunt was standing on the other side. I nearly knocked her to the ground; barely managing to stifle a scream. An excellent start.
Debra was enthusiastic. The Studio Exec schmoozed. The President of Production said a few gracious words, and then both left. We were ready to screen the film. I gave a short introduction, and as the lights lowered, Debra slipped out.
You may be unfamiliar with studio screening rooms. They are mini movie theatres with giant reclining chairs – plusher and wider than any seat you’ve ever paid fourteen bucks for. They make La-Z-Boys look anorexic. On the way in, you pass the projection booth, where there is a projectionist and your print.
In the center, a few seats have been removed for a control panel. It has nearly as many buttons as an airplane cockpit – few of which I could identify. There’s a phone that provides a direct line to the booth. I sat beside the console, picked up the phone and, feeling cool and in control, asked the man in the booth to please start the film.
It was just the four of us; with Helen, her Producer and the Junior Exec seated in the row in front of me.
The film began. Being in Spanish, it had English subtitles. The set up of this movie (SPOILER ALERT) is that a priest, who has dedicated his life to studying the Book of the Apocalypse – long believed to contain a hidden meaning – has finally unlocked the secret it holds – the exact date of the beginning of the end of the world. Turns out, it’s the day after tomorrow. He’s determined to go out into the world and commit as many acts of evil as possible to attract the devil and then trick him into revealing where the anti-Christ will be born, heralding the beginning of the end of the world, so he can stop it.
The little priest goes to his Monsignor in the Cathedral and, believing that the Devil could be listening, whispers his discovery while the church bells toll. As the secret cannot be heard in dialogue, there are no subtitles.
Helen leaned way back in her BarcaLounger and, with her left hand, beckoned me toward her. I uncrossed my legs and leaned toward her from the depths of my giant chair. “Crunch!” I kicked her directly in the diamond engagement ring. A very nice ring to be sure. Swell.
Helen whispered that she would like to have the volume turned up. Somehow, she failed to grasp that were no subtitles at that point because, just like the original Spanish-speaking audience, we are not mean to be privy to the whispered exchange.
Nevertheless, if that’s what Helen wanted, I was going to make it happen. Confronted by the baffling buttons, I tried not to panic. I picked up the phone and spoke to the nice man in the booth. Could he please turn up the volume? Mission accomplished. I relaxed back in my seat, satisfied that had been a problem-solver. I probably hadn’t permanently damaged Helen Hunt, and the ring – true to the mark of a real diamond – had remained intact. Disaster averted.
From there… it went straight to hell.
Helen and her crew didn’t merely dislike the film; the dark parts literally made them cringe and cover their eyes. Witnessing their reaction meant that I was suffering right along with them.
I interjected a few times, trying to explain that many things would change in the adaptation. Our version wouldn’t include someone wringing the neck of a fluffy little bunny to make a cheap stew – it would be more like… Hamburger Helper.
But rabbit was the last straw for Helen and her crew. This wasn’t a screening. This was torture. I bravely suggested that we take a break at the midpoint. The lights came up, and I stood before the screen. Desperate to salvage the situation, I asked innocuously if they would like to watch the rest of the movie, or would they prefer that I tell them how the story ended.
Telling them was the unanimous choice.
We eventually hired a writer to do a terrific English language version of The Day of the Beast. There were definitely no dead bunnies.
We never found a project with Helen, but there was an unexpected outcome.
About a year later, I was watching an episode of Mad About You. At this point, Helen Hunt was not only the co-star, but a producer on the show. Half way through, Paul Reiser, the series star and co-creator, was on the couch watching a foreign film and chomping away on a big bowl of potato chips. Helen’s character, his wife Jamie, joined him.
“Paul?” she said sweetly.
“Yes, dear,” he replied.
“You’re chewing so loudly I can’t hear the movie.”
“Honey,” Paul said, “it’s subtitled.”
And just like that, I had broken into TV!
Everyone has their own story about breaking into TV writing.
What will your’s be?
Watch me break into TV writing on Mad About You, Season Seven, Millennium Bug episode here.