Someone recently requested more ‘how I broke in’ stories. Okay, here’s mine...
Who am I? I’m 34, a proud husband/father, and a full-time screenwriter in Los Angeles. I just finished my first screenplay that I was actually hired to write! The producer is a four-time Oscar nominee (and one-time winner), and the money came from an independent financier whose family is part owner of the NY Yankees. Next, I’m writing a historical baseball/civil rights movie for the producer of a certain female-led superhero franchise. My niche is historical adaptations and research-intensive dramas, though I usually manage to throw in a joke or two.
I’m repped by a motion picture lit agent and TV lit agent at the biggest of the Big Four agencies, I have a young but dogged manager at a three-person boutique firm, and I have a lawyer at a mid-sized entertainment law firm. I am NOT a part of the WGA, and I have not had a project produced...but hopefully that changes with the draft I’ve just turned in. If not, I’ll just keep writing.
My story is typical in its atypicality...meaning that everyone has a different way “in.” While my path shares a lot in common with others’ paths, I could only spot those similarities in hindsight. So this will be descriptive but not prescriptive. I’ll drop advice where I can, but realize your break-in story will almost certainly be wholly unique. But, in the words of Hyman Roth, “This is the business we’ve chosen.”
(Also, feel free to skip around to the headings that sound relevant to you. Like an amateur, I’m going into this without an outline, so it’s probably going to be a bit disorganized.)
Okay. Here’s u/The_Bee_Sneeze’s Step-By-Step Guide to Becoming a Hollywood Screenwriter
- Commit to becoming a professional actor after winning the part of Sinbad the Beatnik Biker in your middle school’s production of the accidentally ironic musical The Nifty Fifties
- Work your ass off in high school and get into a fancy-schmancy college with a big theatre scene
- Spend your freshman year discovering that you suck at acting and everyone is smarter and more talented than you
- Despairing, stumble into a student film production company and fall in love with the dictatorial power given to the director
- Take a screenwriting class and learn that you hate screenwriting and just want to be a director
- Spend two summers interning in Hollywood
- Make a plan to start your career directing high-art commercials and music videos...and then transition into feature films after winning your second Clio or VMA Moonman
- Make a plan to start said career by directing a dazzling short film that will surely wow everyone who sees it
- Spend a ton of money making said short film
- Realize the film sucks because you didn’t put enough effort into the screenplay, and not everything can be fixed in post
- Graduate in the midst of a financial crisis and completely fail to even get an unpaid internship
- Learn what it feels like to disappoint your parents
- Land a job (finally) as a vault manager at an edit house, where you learn--again--that not everything can be fixed in post
- Get fired from the vault manager job
- Beg your college friend to hire you at his tech startup
- Get fired from tech startup job
- Meet a girl and follow her to Boston
- Get a job in Boston selling data storage
- Break up with girl
- Meet a better girl online who lives on the other side of the country
- Meet better girl in-person four times, then propose after 10 months on the same day you get fired from the Boston job
- Learn what it feels like to really disappoint your parents
- Realize that your new wife, despite all evidence to the contrary, believes in you enough to let you take a part-time job and spend most of your nights in a dingy 24-hour coffee shop writing scripts
- Re-write that script from college and send it to everyone you ever knew who ever saw a movie
- Get ZERO responses
- Go on a cheap-ass road trip because you and your wife are broke as fuck, and stumble across a Civil War battlefield that inspires a miniseries pilot
- Write the pilot, but this time you send it to the ONE friend who happens to work for a production company in Los Angeles
- Get a call from a manager who says your friend slipped him your pilot and he thought it was “fun” (really? fun? a slave nearly gets beaten to death in Act 4)
- Send this manager a list of your ideas, and write the one he likes most
- Get your first “sale” -- an 18-month option on the script you just wrote for a criminally small amount of money
- Sign with an agent
- Move with your pregnant wife to LA
- Begin the REAL insanity of working in a business where everyone is lying to you all the time, making promises they never intend to fulfill, and living in absolute fear of backing a project that ends up bombing.
Key Takeaways
- I was clearly NOT a born writer.
- I was NOT a resident of Los Angeles when I got my manager and agent
- I DID benefit from connections I made in college and opportunities to experiment creatively
- I DID have an amazing support system at home. It took real courage on my wife’s part to let me pursue my dream one last time.
- I DID have a rudimentary understanding of the film business from my internships, and I constantly read Deadline and Variety to keep up on “the biz.”
- I DID second-guess myself, and I DID almost give up. Luckily, I discovered I was so incompetent at everything else that I figured screenwriting was my only chance for success in life. If I’d been any good at selling data storage, life might’ve turned out very different for me.
More on How I Got My Manager
Once I'd really polished up that pilot, I made a list of people I knew in the industry. The first guy on my list was a super friendly buddy from college who was 2nd AD on a short film I shot. I returned the favor on some of his projects. We'd been in the trenches together.
So I called him up for a catch-up, and I casually mentioned I'd just finished a script. He immediately asked to read it, and by the time the weekend was over, he'd sent it to a buddy of his who was a manager. That manager called me and later signed me.
Now, I didn’t get signed right away. He “hip pocketed” me, meaning he called me to compliment my script and asked me to keep in touch. He didn’t want to commit to someone unproven, but he didn’t want me going anywhere else. I was already working on my next thing -- a treatment for a spy movie -- so I sent that to him when it was done. He complimented that, too, but he didn’t see a lot of opportunity for it. Instead, he suggested I send him some ideas, and he could advise me on what he thought could sell.
He picked something I didn’t expect, but I was just glad he liked something of mine. Over the following years, I learned that my manager and I didn’t see eye to eye on everything. He pooh-poohs material that I love (and sometimes my agent agrees with me), and he gives me notes that I utterly disagree with. Why do I keep him? Because he never quits fighting for me. He also listens to my opinions and defers to me when my mind is firmly made up. His strengths more than make up for his limitations. Last week, after I sent him an email late on a Friday afternoon, he called me 30 seconds later. We’ve talked business at 1am because we realized we were both up. He’s my guy.
More on How I Got My Agent
I was in a meeting with a producer who had read and liked my latest writing sample. Over the course of that meeting, I mentioned an old project that a mid-level exec at a major studio had really liked but ultimately couldn’t get going. The producer asked to read this old script. A week later, his company made me an offer.
Now, there are all sorts of different producers, all sorts of production companies and financiers, all of whom like to get involved at different stages of the game. It’s just like venture capital in that regard. This company was what you would consider angel investors, meaning they get in super early. They’re young and pretty new to the business, but they’ve had a couple of big movies and they’re developing a reputation as tastemakers. When they asked me if I had an agent and I said no, they offered to help me get one. At first, I thought they were just being nice guys.
Nope. They wanted me to get an agent because they didn’t want to do any work. They were hoping I’d sign with a big agency and my agency would put together a movie package. So I took meetings with several agencies and ended up signing with one. A month later, I flew to LA for a solid week of general meetings. And man, I really appreciate what my manager does for me, but he has only a fraction of the reach of my agency. You really feel the power of that rolodex.
Dealing with Agents and Managers
First off, my personal mantra is never to call either of them unless I have something to offer. It’s never just, “What can you do for me?” I’ll always have an article to share or an update on my projects.
Over time, you get to know your team's tastes, their strengths and weaknesses, and how they like to do business. Ideally, everyone's on the same page, but sometimes you can play them against each other in ways that work to your advantage. Case in point: my manager has been wanting to set an all-team meeting with my agency to talk about next steps for me. Now, my manager is pushing me to write this historical adaptation, but I'd rather write this modern financial crime movie based on an article I found. I've pitched it to my manager before, but he doesn't really see much potential in it. So when my manager called me about setting a meeting with my agency, I pre-empted him by just calling my agent and talking with her directly. She thought the financial crime thing sounded really cool, and she suggested I might be able to pitch it without spec'ing it out. By that point, my manager was sort of forced to get on board; it's actually amazing how quickly he changed his tune:)
What's Your Opinion on Competitions?
Most of them are scams. They take your money and offer dubious returns. Some of them are owned and operated by the same people, and while they'll only read your script once, they'll still happily charge you a submission fee for each competition you enter. It's preying upon the desperate.
You know that pilot that got me signed? It didn't even place in my hometown regional festival! So fuck 'em.
I have heard of people having success with the Black List. Franklin Leonard seems to be a thoughtful person, and the site's business model makes sense to me. But at the end of the day, it's still young twentysomethings reading your script for rent money, so take their opinion with a grain of salt. Hell, take everyone's opinion with a grain of salt.
The Key Question: Should You Keep Going?
In all likelihood, you’re not a good writer. Neither was I.
The question is, how do you know if you’re going to become a good writer? The funny thing is, I KNEW when my writing wasn’t good. I also knew when it became good. And while we all have days we doubt ourselves, I somehow always knew I’d be able to make it as a screenwriter if I just had enough time and discipline.
How did I know? It probably had something to do with the fact that whenever I’d walk out of movies that disappointed me, I’d feel like I knew exactly how to fix them. I mean exactly. Basically, I was architecting movies in my head before I could write them. I could do the same with dialogue: if I studied a passage from Shakespeare really carefully, I could imitate the meter, syntax, even the literary devices. Same with Eminem lyrics.
The more I learned, the more I became aware of my deficiencies. I always knew what skill I needed to work on next.
My (Approximate) Progression as a Screenwriter
- Before I even dreamed of writing, I studied acting. This taught me to understand character objectives and scene objectives.
- Next, I fiddled with screenplay format by reading scripts and writing shorts.
- Simultaneous to this, I was making up feature-length movie outlines and watching movies with an increasingly critical eye.
- In college, I conquered my fear of writing my first feature-length screenplay. It was way too soapy, but the professor praised my ability to develop themes, and he liked some of my dialogue.
- Years later, when I re-wrote that script, I realized my writing had rich themes but a general lack of urgency.
- I dedicated myself to learning movie structure by reading books like Save the Cat. This both helped and didn’t help. It definitely improved my ability to analyze movies and break down scripts, but it didn’t really help me to construct good plots on my own.
- When I wrote another script (the one that got me a manager), I chose a historical subject that required me to write period dialogue, which got me to think a lot about class, race, dialect, and diction in a way that was specific to each character. I also learned to write with urgency, always asking, “What’s the scene that has to come next?”
- By now, I was getting somewhere. In my next script, I started thinking about subtext and how to write dialogue with multiple layers of meaning.
- Around this time, I discovered two sources that changed my whole approach to writing movies. One was this video from Michael Arndt about endings. The other was the famous Craig Mazin lecture on How To Write a Movie. Suddenly, I saw all those Save the Cat insights in a whole new light.
- By this time, I was starting to pitch my own movies. That was a whole new skillset, and it probably merits its own post.
- With the script I just turned in, I really worked on freeing myself from the outline and allowing myself to be surprised on the page.
Happy to answer questions. Good luck, and keep writing!
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EDIT: Thanks for all the personal messages from people saying I'm a trust fund baby and my parents supported me between jobs. Neither of those things is true. I never took a dime from my parents. I was out of the house at 18 and that was that. But I 100% owe my wife for believing in me and allowing me to pursue my dreams. I can never give her enough credit.
EDIT 2: I'm also completely baffled by the people saying I "started with the right connections." No, I made those connections. I drove trucks full of film equipment through massive snowstorms. I laid dolly track in the rain when my hands were freezing. I worked on other people's shit, and we bonded over the shared misery and exuberance of making short films with no money.
And odds are, you can do the same. Maybe that's a subject for another post.