by Blake Snyder
Improv. He loved our show! Would my friends and I be interested in being represented? I arranged to have my gang of cohorts come to Los Angeles for a meeting with Budd, who offered to manage us there and then. A little luck and ambition had gotten us noticed. And while our comedy troupe eventually broke up, I have maintained my friendship with Budd Friedman to this day.
That's what "working it" can do, so you should always be working it. But here's where fate is better.
My next agent, and the best one I ever had, I met through circumstances that were much more serendipitous. On a break from my duties as a Production Assistant for a sitcom called Teachers Only at NBC, I decided to go home to Santa Barbara for the weekend. And even though I was tired from the drive, I was restless. I decided to go to a local club to get a drink and hopefully meet girls. And I did. I met a girl I was smitten with on sight, and who eventually became my girlfriend. No, she wasn't an agent. But her best friend wanted to be one. I hit it off with her, too. And when she was promoted to agent at Writers &. Artists, I was one of the first people she asked to be her client. I immediately said yes.
And that's how I came to be represented by Hilary Wayne. All because 1 stopped in to have a drink at a bar.
Hilary and I went on to have a fabulous relationship. She was the best agent I ever had. She made great deals for me, understood my writing and my ability to conceptualize, and she formed the foundation of my entire career. Though she herself was new to the game, she had a real knack not just for selling but also for positioning both script and writer in the marketplace. Hilary knew how to build careers and she built mine from scratch. Our relationship coincided with that point in Hollywood history when the "spec sale" was king. This was a time when studio heads would knock themselves out to take a virgin script away from another studio; they'd bid the price up into the millions to do so. And Hilary was a master at setting up these grudge matches, pitting executive against executive, and engineering sales that became the headline on next day's front page of Variety.
What I had found in Hilary was not just an agent, but a partner. What made it work was that we were on the same wavelength; we were both hungry to succeed, and went out of our way to respect the marketplace and deliver to it what we thought it needed. We read the tea leaves, I went back and made product, and she sold the product. And we made millions of dollars doing it. Hilary passed away in 1998 or I would still be working with her. And I often wonder what she would make of the business today. The landscape has changed and the spec sale fever is no longer what it was, but Hollywood still needs good ideas and good writers. No matter how you find your way in this maze, you must be bold. And you must find your own Hilary Wayne because you can't do it alone.
It's one thing for me to tell you my tales, it's another to ask what I would do if I were starting out again or if I wanted to find new representation and sell myself from scratch today. I am lucky — I don't mind getting out from behind my computer and meeting people. Not every one of you is like that. As writers we tend to be insular, introverted, and introspective. But if you want to sell your script, you have to sell yourself — and I say this in the most healthy and positive sense. There is no crass salesmanship involved if you are genuinely interested in your subject. And if you seek out people to be partners in this game, whom you can help as much as they can help you, then it's mutually beneficial.
That's always been my attitude, anyway.
So maybe I can plant a few positive visualizations in your brain and you can see yourself following through on a few of them. Because being a talented screenwriter, and writing even the most perfect script, is only a small part of what will be needed to get you where you want to go. You will need to get out of your workroom and mingle. You will have to put on a clean shirt and shine your shoes and smile.
PREPARING THE FIELD
Like any well-plotted story with a (hopefully) happy ending, you must make a plan and follow it step by step.
Here's what you've got:
You've got you, a screenwriter with x number of scripts to your credit, varying degrees of success in selling them, and a great big crush on movies and moviemakers.
You've got your product — your best screenplay — and several pitches (even if they're for screenplays you've already written), and if you've followed the advice of Chapter One, your loglines and titles are killer — and ready to go.
You've even got a rough idea of what you need next: An agent who will help you sell these projects, and producers who will either buy them from you or go into partnership with you to get these projects set up, sold, and made into movies.
If you don't have that list, start making one: > Go on the Internet and check out the Hollywood Creative Directory (www. hcdonline. com); if you feel like shelling out $50 or so, get a copy (you should). Read that thing and get to know it. Production companies, contact names, fellow writers, and producers with projects in your genre is the place to start.
> Likewise pick up a copy of the HGD Talent Agency directory and make a similar list. Include agents at big agencies and small, who like the same movies you like.
And now, you must start being really clever.
THAT SOUL-EATING FIRST CONTACT
You can contact anyone by letter, you can camp out on doorsteps and stalk your victims, you can produce The Blank Show and get it on L.A. Public Access and wait for the phone to ring, but whatever your method, slowly and surely, you must introduce you and your product to "them." In my opinion, making it about you first is the key. Making it personal, letting them meet and know you, is the best way to make the introduction to your work. My genius agent Hilary always said, and it should be on a plaque in the Hall of Fame: Every Sale Has a Story! The story is you. But how are you going to get that story told to the people on your list? Well:
> In person is better than a phone call...
> A phone call is better than a query letter...
> A query letter is better than an e-mail...
> And an e-mail (from a stranger) is usually when I push DELETE on my computer — unless I've been forewarned that it's coming or it can do something for me today.
The key to all of this is to not think so much about your immediate goals but your long-term ones. Sure you need an agent, right now! But you also need to build a reputation. If you are lucky enough to have a career, you will be bumping into these people again and again for years. So try not to burn any bridges, or at least try not to burn them all the way down. Be nice. Be considerate. Be helpful. Be upbeat.
But keep knocking on doors and showing your face.
Try to put yourself in the shoes of everyone you speak to. What is it that they want? How can you make dealing with you easier on them? And what are they going to get out of the interaction that will make meeting you worth their time?
One of the golden rules is it's easier to get an agent when you have a deal that needs closing. And it is also easier to pitch you if someone has already bought something from you. This is why I always recommend that if any legitimate entity wants to option your screenplay, even for little money, and no one else has offered you anything — grab it. I can't tell you the value of having someone go first. And having projects in process, no matter how minor in terms of money up front, tells others you don't have the plague. It also gives you something to talk about when you meet new people.
So now you know what you're selling and whom you want to sell to. But how can you make your proposal different? How can you catch the eye of someone who gets proposals all the time? Would you blanch if I told you it was just a matter of turning the crank again and again until something happens?
Because that's all it takes.
Just keep turning the crank. Any inroad, any one at all, is a gigantic leap forward. And while you may not get an agent right away, or make a sale right away, you are making progress every time you write a query letter, pick up the phone, or meet someone for coffee. Here are a few signs that you are making progress in marketing you:
> You talk to an agent or producer that you like. This is a sign, fellow pilgrims! It is just as important for you to feel chemistry with him as his feeling chemistry with you. You've identified someone you will want to get in touch with again, even if it's "no" now.
> You have whittled a list of 50 possibles down to three maybes. Those 47 no's had to be gotten through. Every no is one step closer to a yes. But by God you did the work! The yes is that much nearer.
> You get a referral. Everyone you contact must be asked this question at some point in the process of saying no: "Is there anyone else you can recommend that I contact about my career?" Referrals are gold1 and everyone I know is thrilled to oblige with one. Believe it or not, people want to help you succeed.
NETWORKING
When the agent and producer route has been thoroughly sifted through, where else can you go to get help? It is who you know, damn it. So how are you going to reach out? Well, these things can be done — even without an agent:
> Film Festivals — There's one in your town or somewhere close enough to attend. Go there. Get business cards, pitch your script, hear other pitches. A contact is a contact and every
person you meet knows 30 other people. Keep in touch post-festival and ask for referrals. Figure out how you can return the favor. Ask how you can help with their projects.
> Classes — Go where other screenwriters go, but also go where aspiring producers go. Near me at UCLA there's a Producer's Seminar every semester — what a great place for a writer to go to meet the next wave of young hotshot producers in town. The local university in your town probably has similar courses.
> Screenwriting Groups — There are lots of these online, as well as in local communities. And I belong to one of the best, a savvy little bunch of scribblers called The Screenplayers (www.screenplayers.net). These are bands of screenwriters pooling their resources to help themselves and each other. If the group is set up right, one of you will be a comedy maven, another a devotee of horror, etc. Maybe one knows a producer who can't help him but can help you. If you don't know of any groups, check out the Net or start one yourself.
> Become An Expert — You like movies so much, well start reviewing movies. Do it in your local paper or online. The career of director/writer Rod Lurie started in this way. Likewise Francois Truffaut. At some point, someone realized these two guys knew what they were talking about and gave them a chance to make their own films. By becoming critics, they had a platform from which to be heard. And when the time came to put their money where their mouths were, they were ready with their own scripts and projects.
> Come to Los Angeles — Whether you come out for a week or a lifetime, L.A. is where the business is, so what are you doing living in Dubuque? If I were starting all over again, I would come to L.A. and get any job, preferably one as a script reader.
I would read as many scripts and make as many contacts as I could while keeping my screenwriting going on the side. If I could only come out for a week, I would be available for as many meetings as possible with producers; industry get-togethers at SAG, DGA, WGA; and be ready with my bio, business card, sample scripts, treatments, and photo so they remember my face. What's stopping you?
> You.com — Though I have not tried this route — not yet anyway — how about starting a Web site all about you and your career? Put up your photo and bio. List scripts in progress, treatments, and sample pages that are available to download, and even details of deals in progress with referrals to those you're in business with (with their permission, of course). You.com is a great thing to reference and put on a business card. You want to know who I am? Check out my Web site.
DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME...
Knowing what to do is as important as knowing what not to do. Here are a few things that people advise that I think are less beneficial. Remember the key ingredient in marketing yourself is to meet people — face to face if possible, so the following seem like busy work to me:
> Screenplay Contests — This is something I'm going to get skewered for but I just have to say it: I think screenwriting contests are a colossal waste of time. It's a trend that's been springing up of late, and many writers live and die by the results, waiting by the phone or the mail box to see if they made it to the top IO% tier — whatever that is. I have one word for such activity: Stop. It means just about zero to any agent or producer with anything real going on. It's nice if you like contests; to me, it's an echo chamber. Do they give you any
money for these contests? Are they going to make your film with an A-list cast? No! ! I haven't seen one script from one contest get turned into a Tom Cruise movie, have you? And we are here to sell our scripts to the likes of B.O. stars like him. Are we together on this? Good!
On the other hand... there are some contests that sponsor panels of experts who have actually sold to or work for the majors. These professionals can offer invaluable learning and networking opportunities. So if you must enter a contest, you have a job to do first: Read carefully. Ask questions. Seek out the legitimate, the ones with high-level pros who will be available at panels and/or seminars. If they're not associated with the contest, you shouldn't be either.
> Stupid Screenwriter Tricks — However clever we think we are, sometimes we go too far in our enthusiasm. We are creative people and think everyone will get it — well, they don't. Stunts don't work. Lame attempts to get attention don't work. Here are some other don'ts: Don't package yourself in a big crate and mail yourself to William Morris. Don't take out a full-page advertisement in Variety with your picture and phone number with the slogan: Will Write for Food. Don't have your picture taken with a cut-out photo of your favorite movie star and send to him autographed with the phrase: We should be in business together! And whatever you do, don't threaten to leap off the Hollywood sign as leverage to get someone to read your screenplay. It's been done, babe, it's been done.
SOME MARKETING HITS AND MISSES
I would be remiss in my advice on how to sell yourself and your
screenplay if I didn't give you examples of things that I've done
— some worked and some didn't — to get my screenplays sold. I have tried it all. Take these for what they're worth and try them at your peril.
In the area of "specialty pitches," I can tell you some good stories, including doing so well in one meeting with my longtime friend and co-writer, the fabulously funny Tracey Jackson, that producer David Permut flew us to New York the next day to pitch our idea to Howard Stern. You hear of these amazing presentations; some producers and writers are better at it and more successful than others. And they're certainly fun to know about. One of the best at it is producer David Kirschner (Chucky, An American Tail). David has made it his personal specialty to be able to line up pitch meetings at the top studios and really put on a show. When David had the rights to the '5Os TV series Leave it to Beaver, and went in to Universal to pitch the movie, he brought a surprise guest. During David's pitch, there was a knock at the door and Barbara Billingsley, the original Mrs. Cleaver, came in to serve executives milk and cookies. David took his pitch to exactly one studio.
Deal!
For his pitch to Disney to sell the Bette Midler movie Hocus Pocus, David created a spooky, effects-laden coven complete with actresses dressed as witches to enhance the mood. In this atmosphere, David wove his own selling spell. By the time he was done, the Disney execs were bewitched.
Deal!
Maybe the king of the logline working today, the man with a thousand pitches at his command, is producer Bob Kosberg. Bob makes a sale or two every month. He's amazing. Working with writers on ideas of his own, and theirs too, he can conceptualize
better than anyone in the business and can weed out the clunkers from the winners with lightning speed. Every time he walks into the room, he has a new one to pitch.
Deal!
I, too, have done sp
ecialty pitches. The one I remember most was a hilarious failure. My first partner, Howard Burkons, and I had a movie idea called Big Girl On Campus, which was basically Tootsie goes to college. Howard volunteered to do the pitch dressed as a woman, in full makeup and outfit, just to get the idea across that it was possible. And as great as Howard looks in a dress, we did not sell B.G.O.C.
No deal!
Howard did, however, get asked out at Disney.
I have had success with specialty marketing. During the spec sale frenzy of the early '90s, the buzz surrounding any virgin screenplay that was on the block for sale was huge. Word that a new script was going "out to the town" started days and weeks beforehand. The script was tracked by development execs, and their bosses often yelled and screamed demanding to be put on the list.
In this atmosphere, making your script sale special became a fad. For the sale of a script called Ticking Man, ticking clocks with alarms all set to the same time were sent out to executives prior to getting the script. The alarms went off all over town at the moment messengers arrived with the script. Talk about building and paying off tension!
The Nuclear Family Script Containment Unit (1992)
When Jim Haggin and I were ready to send out our spec script, Nuclear Family, we decided to package it in artistically designed
"radioactive script containment units," into which we stuck the script as our way of setting the mood. We made 20 of these from materials we bought at an Army surplus store; only the most special producers were on the list to get one. After clearing this special delivery with the security gate at every studio (these things looked so much like a bomb we didn't want any false red alerts), the send-out was coordinated by our agent, Hilary, as messengers delivered our script containment units in a flurry of activity all over town. By the time the day was over, Jeffery Katzenberg at Disney and Steven Spielberg at Amblin had personally gotten on the phone to make a bid.
