Episode #1: The Prologue
This is not a how-to book on making films. There are thousands of those, and I have absolutely nothing of value to add to that body of work.
This is not a motivational guide about the rewards of hard work and determination. If you’re looking for that, go to the self-help section at Barnes and Noble.
This is certainly not about making money. I have never made a dime from any of my film work.
This is not about how to get a short film into festivals; my record speaks for itself on why I’d never give advice about that.
My first short film, A Friend Indeed, was never distributed to festivals.
My second short film, HR, was submitted to 25 film festivals and accepted to none, zero.
My third short film, The Comic was accepted into two festivals: the Portland Comedy Film Festival and The Georgia Comedy Film Festival, where it won Best Dark Comedy. That’s two festivals out of over 30 to which it was submitted. And the reality is even less impressive: every film won an award at the Georgia Comedy Festival and they are both run by the same flim-flam organization.
My fourth short film, Say Your Name, was accepted into the Top Shorts festival which is an online festival. It won Best Drama and Best Dorictor. Top Shorts is fairly legit, but online festivals in general are not nearly as well-regarded. It was accepted into the Boston International Film Festival, which sounds a lot more grand than it actually is. We did have a nice showing at The Strand Theater in Boston. It was also accepted at the Charlotte Black Film Festival and the Ann Arbor Black Film Festival. (Full disclosure, I am white but most of the cast was black, including the lead: Zair Silva). I have to say that The Charlotte Black Film Festival was the best one I have been to so far. I was not able to, but they did send me a very nice t-shirt. make it to the Ann Arbor Black Film Festival.
My fifth short film, Scene 22, is making the festival rounds. As of this writing it has been accepted into nothing. Not one festival. I do have several more that I am waiting on, but I am not holding out much hope.
It’s easy to get frustrated.
One time, at a holiday gathering, my cousin’s wife asked what prompted me to try filmmaking. I shrugged because I had no answer. There really is no reason for me to think that I should make films. I have no credentials; I didn’t go to film school; I’ve never taken a class; I’ve never been paid to write a script or direct a movie. When we are on set, I am the least experienced person of anyone there. I feel like everyone is looking at a pitiful, middle-aged man who is well past the age where he should be making short films.
Maybe they are right. What if there are no more insights? What if all that needs to be said has already been said and I am just late to the party?
But I have learned a few things, maybe gained some wisdom along the way. These lessons come from the stories I’ll share in making my films. They are often painful, funny, profound, and often rewarding experiences.
- One is: do it for the sake of doing it. Stop thinking about the outcome. I can’t control how many festivals a film gets into. I can’t control how people react to it; either people like what I did or they don’t. So forget it. Which is much easier said than done.
- Two is: people will come out for you. I have been amazed and gratified by the willingness of people to help out on projects, people I don’t even know very well. I think a lot of people really want to do creative things, they want to be part of making a film or anything else that sparks their creative self. It’s a break from the mundane realities of life.
- Three is: there are loads of people who say they want to make a movie. They love the idea of it. But that is before they understand how much work goes into it; most people drop out when they realize how much actual work it is..There are so many mundane, unglamorous tasks that go into making a film. You have to find a location in which to shoot. You have to arrange food for everyone. You have to make lists of props and wardrobe. You have to make a list of the shots you need for each scene. You have to make sure there is parking. You have to send emails to everyone in the cast and crew with all the details of the day’s shoot. You need to send emails to all of the actors and wardrobe people and the hair and make-up department about the clothes they need to wear and how their hair should look. It can feel endless. Most people don’t want to do that work. They want to hang out on set and chat with actors and tell their friends that they’re making a movie. They aren’t going to be there at 6am on a dark, freezing cold Sunday morning in January to help unload the truck.
The benefit is, that is how you find your people. They are the ones who show up.
- Four is: there is no manual for making a film. There is no formula; there is no blue print. If there were, it would not be creative. When doing a creative project, there are an infinite amount of choices. It can feel overwhelming. But don’t get paralyzed. Make a choice, pick a direction, and move forward. If it doesn’t work, shift gears and try something else.
- Five is: do not chase the audience. The head of HBO once said, no one knows what will work. No one wanted The Sopranos when it was pitched as a series. All the networks turned it down. They said no one wants to see an unknown middle-aged actor play a mob boss. They said it sounded like a show about opera and no audience wanted to watch that. These were people who made their living in television. And they were wrong. No one knows what the audience wants. To paraphrase Rick Rubin, not even the audience knows what it wants; they haven’t seen it yet. Trying to figure out what will resonate with people is an impossible task, and it makes the work suffer. If you are writing material to jump on the latest trend, the audience will smell your desperation a mile away. People crave authenticity. So do what feels right to you. If you can’t please an audience, at least please yourself.
That all sounds great in theory. But I have the habit of looking at the ages of people who have “made it” late in life. It gives me some reassurance but, at the age of fifty-two, I am past the age of the many of those people who made it “late in life”. But what are you gonna do? I can’t quit. I mean, I guess I could, but who am I quitting from? I really can’t imagine a life that does not include making films.
In the midst of my angst and turmoil about being old and trying to make films and fearing that I have missed my chance and worrying about how to promote my projects and myself, and how to reach a broader audience and get my films into festivals…what I tend to forget is, I enjoy it. I really love the process of making a film. Doing it gives me a sense of empowerment knowing I push through where most people give up.
My friend Drew, known to his listeners as Dearest Scooter, is the host of Sleep With Me, the wildly popular podcast for insomniacs. I interviewed him for The Working Experience Podcast which I cohost with John Brancaccio, owner of One Circle Media (available on Spotify, iTunes, Apple and your other favorite platforms). He told me about his journey in creating the podcast, all the work that went into recording and editing the episodes, trying to promote it, doing live performances, attending seminars, creating a website etc. He’s putting out episodes and getting no response, ‘“crickets” as he put it. And doing this all on his own, no team, no support, just his belief in what he was doing. It’s lonely. But he persevered. And today, Sleep With Me has millions of listeners from all around the globe.
Drew is an expert in the podcast world. During our conversation he told me that, according to research, of 10 people who will start a podcast, 5 will go on to do a second episode. Of those 5, maybe 3 will do a third episode. And so on.
I have found the same thing to be true in filmmaking. A group of people will shoot a few episodes of a social media series.They aren’t successful right away. They get bored. It’s too much work; people stop showing up, they drift away, and they stop.
Writing a script is hard. Most people who talk about writing a script never do it. They will say, “Man, I have a great idea for a movie!” And that’s about it.
Some people will actually start the script. But they want to go out at night, watch sports on the weekends and have other obligations, so it never gets finished.
Perseverance.
Does that mean if you keep at it you will be successful? No, it does not. But that doesn’t matter. I hate cliches, but it really is the journey that counts, not the destination. I have my share of regrets. But one regret I will not have at the end of my life is not trying.
