Jim Falletta ~ Word Count: 1,998

Note: This article was posted on ScriptMag.com in December 2004 and January 2005

Still the One

Some of you may remember an article I posted on ScriptMag.com's Ezine a little over two years ago. In “The One”, I outlined the lessons I had learned and the failures I had endured along my road to screenwriting anonymity. Since then, my feet have taken me a few steps closer to where I want to be, but all in all, I still remain anonymous to the majority of Hollywood .

As a refresher, let's check the scorecard. Then: Chesterfield Film Company. No. Scriptapalooza. Thanks, but no thanks. Sundance. Better luck next year. Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Sorry. In other words, all of these contests and several others my ego would not let me write down, had the same unwritten reply to me – “Thank you for your entry. It is people like you who afford us the opportunity to reward those writers we deem to be better than you are.”

Now: Top 3% Chesterfield Writer's Project, Quarterfinalist in Scriptapalooza (one of 321 scripts chosen out of 2,947), Top 50 Finalist in the Red Inkworks Competition, Semi-Finalist for WriteMovies.com, Special Honor List in the Filmmakers.com/Radmin Company Competition, Top 100 for American Gem Short Script, and finally, Quarterfinalist in Acclaim Film & TV's Competition.

What have these moderate successes convinced me to do? To the dismay of my stable, conservative parents, I have decided to leave my job as a high school English teacher to give this writing thing the shot it deserves, or the shot that I believe it deserves . I think we are all aware that a high school English teacher will never be at the top of the Forbes 500 list, but I can also guarantee you will not find many struggling writers there either. My salary as a teacher, while never enough to buy me that private island I wanted, was a heck of a lot more than I'm making now. Add on a tremendous benefits package for a job that only required my services for nine months out of the year and…What on earth was I thinking? Needless to say, I've learned that paper and black ink are as precious as water and that the bagged rice from Henry's Market can make a good meal. I suppose I could be cliché and tell you that I have mastered the art of Top Ramen but that's so 1999. In all honesty, leaving a job that I did not love to pursue a love I must treat like a job has been the best thing I have ever done (I never did agree with the whole “if you can't love the one you want, love the one you're with” idea). I must treat this like a job because working out of your home takes real discipline - working on writing takes even more. It's extremely easy to watch some TV, check my email, read the trades, send out a letter or two, make some lunch, watch a movie, make some dinner and finish off by checking my email again. After all, that's not a terrible day. I watch TV (research), I check my email (networking), I read the trades (more research), I send out a query letter or two (more networking), I make lunch (fuel for writing), watch a movie (feature research), make dinner (more fuel for writing) and check my email (gees, I'm doing a lot of networking). Unfortunately, if my day ever goes that way, I'll be missing the most important part of this whole, as my family refers to it, “jobless phase” – writing!

My current portfolio contains the following projects: 3 completed features (each one has gained at least one piece of the contest recognition mentioned above), 2 new features currently in either their infant or teenage stages, 4 short film scripts, 4 TV specs, 1 original pilot and 3 Reality TV pitches. Whew! Anyone else tired?

I often hear people say that it's not a good sign to have a large body of work, no credits and no representation. Apparently those people have never tried to break into Hollywood . I believe that if you are a writer, you should write. Write whatever drives your passion, and when you are finished, if nobody likes what you have written, keep writing new things. While you are creating new material, continue to push your older work into the marketplace. Always have something out there waiting to be rejected. Only good things will come, or so I have been told and so I am beginning to believe. Besides, you can then play fun games with yourself like “who's going to reject me today?” One of my favorites, right up there with Jenga .

Whatever genre you write for (I personally have crafted comedies, family dramas and crime stories) persistence is the key to everything. My three features that have yet to do anything except cost me lots of money in copying and postage, are currently in the hands of both producers and agents in the hopes of finding that one person who just “gets” it. Sounds simple. People “get” things all the time. Unfortunately, that's easier said than done.

Through my limited experience, many interesting things have happened to me. A few examples: Example 1: I have a comedy script that I believe to be very comedic, naturally. This script has been crafted, adjusted, restructured, flipped over backwards, placed on the edge of the shredder etc. It has made its way to approximately 8-10 production companies and 8-10 managers and agents, and still it remains unsold and unable to convince an agent or manager that I would be a worthy client for them. This type of script is not for everyone. I know that. The humor is a bit odd at times, then again, what isn't? My point here is that it really is going to take a miracle to get this script to the next level. It's not a bad script; I have just learned that this is the business of miracles. Yet with all the rejections this script received, it went on to finish as a Top 50 Finalist in a recent contest. The competition, like so many others, provided coverage for every entrant. I was shocked enough to hear that my script had found its way into the Top 50, but when I took a look at the notes they wrote about it, I was even more shocked. There was only one real note and that dealt with my action descriptions. In other words, nothing about the story, the structure, the characters etc. A note about my action descriptions?

Quick, get out your journal and mark down this day. You have officially arrived, at least with the judge that read the script. Now, if they will just pass your name on to every big agency, management company and production house, your $45 entry fee will really be worth it.

After sifting through the notes, I totally agreed with their assessment and have since gone back through each of my scripts and retooled/tightened them. I knew I took this year off for a reason. The important thing is that I found somebody who truly got the script. They got the references and the humor that up until now, only I have really gotten. If this had been an agent or a production company, this story might have a happier ending. For now this will have to do, but armed with my notes about action descriptions, my script and I head back out into the world ready to be rejected. Example 2: I submitted two scripts to the same agency within a couple of months. The first one was rejected using the standard jargon. The second, however, read something like this: “Thank you for your submission. Unfortunately we have decided to pass at this time. However, feel free to contact us as you produce new material.” Did I read that correctly? Contact them again? Either they sent me the wrong letter or they actually thought I had some promise. Whatever! I've got the letter so I'm sending more work their way.

Example 3: One thing I have discovered is that many people are looking for short scripts. Why? Because they are cheaper than features and they are a great way for directors and small production companies to build their own portfolio. Knowing this, I penned a drama script that has been seen by about 4 or 5 directors and/or producers. In one day, I had a director tell me that he thought the piece was “preachy” and that he did not believe any of it. Ouch.

Later that same day, I had a producer tell me that both he and the attached talent liked the script and were seriously considering it. Yeah! From ouch to yeah, this is an interesting business to say the least. Maybe its subjectivity is what makes it interesting. On second thought, let's go back to that last sentence and permanently delete the word maybe.

The subjective nature of it all is something I have learned during my tenure as a script reader for a management company. In discussing criteria for a good spec (TV or feature), I have come to realize that the script will go through about 3 or 4 reads before it ever gets into the hands of the manager. Those are tough odds for anyone, more or less people like me who do not instill excitement into the reader. Instead, I instill nothing since they tear off the cover page to avoid any stereotypes while reading. Finding out their policy regarding cover pages does at least explain why none of my paisanos have invited me into their homes to discuss my work.

With the world of features fairly under control, I have turned more of my attention to TV. We all know that these jobs are the best there are. Every article I read talks about it and every person I meet knows of someone who finally made it – those jerks. Oops. Was that out loud?

I have recently put together an original comedy pilot and specs for “Chappelle's Show” and “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” My process goes something like this: watch the show over and over, outline my episodes, write the spec, laugh myself into stitches, look around and realize I'm alone. Hmmm…That's no good. Nonetheless, like a utility player in baseball, I continue to hone my skills in a variety of areas just in case the coach calls. I do so by creating new material while trying to find someone, anyone to read my specs; that and by calling the agents and managers for Dave Chappelle and Larry David every day, from an unlisted number of course.

My plan for the next couple of months: Hear back from the agencies, managers and production companies that have my work in their hands, check in with the two producers regarding my short scripts (one is considering it, the other is looking for a director – the goal is the HBO US Comedy Arts Festival), shoot my own short film, work on the two new features, query every appropriate person in town and wait to collect all the winnings from the TV contests I entered. Think positive. Think positive. The first week of December, I have a pitch meeting with a production company regarding my Reality TV ideas. I've pitched face to face quite a few times, but I had to pay for all of those meetings. This company even told me where the free parking is; it's the little things that make your day. Think positive. Think positive. Wait, who am I kidding? Nothing is going to happen with any of this stuff. I'm a loser with no talent who should just go back to grading English papers. Think realistic. Think realistic.

Note: This article was posted on ScriptMag.com in March 2002

The One

Chesterfield Film Company. No. Scriptapalooza. Thanks, but no thanks. Sundance. Better luck next year. Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Sorry. In other words, all of these contests had the same unwritten reply to me – “Thank you for your entry. It is people like you who afford us the opportunity to reward those writers we deem to be better than you are.”

Now to the agencies. Perhaps the greatest mystery surrounding these gatekeepers is who they are and why they aren't talking to me. There are many theories surrounding not only the agencies themselves, but also the process of how to get yourself a leg, make that even a pinky toe, into the door of an agent who will work both with and for you. One prominent theory (although many of you right now may renounce this approach entirely) is the age-old use of the cover letter. Seems easy enough. Throw some words down on a piece of paper, have somebody read it, and then have them call to set a meeting so they can tell me how great I am before offering to represent me. No problem. After all, I am a writer. I should at least be able to write a riveting cover letter.

Step one: Write the letter. Before the actual writing comes the reading of all the books and the checking of all the websites to find the proper format and content…Done.

Step two: Give the letter to a few trusted friends and/or colleagues. Ask for their opinion, take their suggestions, and rewrite the letter…Check.

Step three: Give those few trusted friends the letter again and wait for approval.

Got it. I knew I trusted them for a reason. They must be really smart to like my letter. Then again, I am a writer so I must put together one hell of a letter.

Step four: Lose myself in the writer's fantasyland. The one where this is the letter that actually works. Fall into this world every fifteen minutes of every day for the next few weeks. Think of how every letter sent out represents the cheapest ray of hope I could ever afford to buy. Getting closer now. I can feel it.

Step five: Print not only the letters themselves, but also the envelopes because I want to look serious, professional.

Then sign my name on the letters. I need a better signature because when I am famous, my signature is really going to matter. It doesn't now, but it will someday.

Step six: Stuff, stamp, and sponge. I have graduated from licking.

Finally, the long and tedious journey is over. I can mail them now and wait for the world to call.

The result? I honestly have stopped trying to keep track. It's too depressing. Three months later and the numbers are staggering. A few no's here and there, but more than anything, I find that there are a major amount of letters that are never returned. The world has not called. My ego is still recovering.

Before I know it, I find myself in that place we all unwillingly retreat to at one point or another. It's that place filled with so much doubt and fear that it is hard to breathe. Doubt that this is not going to work out as planned. Fear that it will not work out because I am not good enough. Then I catch a breath of air and remember that I am gainfully employed right now – this writing thing is just a hobby. It's my passion, but it's still a hobby. Then I remember that I am a student studying writing in an MFA program. When I graduate from the program, I am assured of a few things:

a. A body of work – This I have

b. In depth knowledge – Ditto

c. A world waiting to receive me with open arms because I am different than those other writers, I am educated – So far so…bad.

Yet still, my earth-shattering cover letter frontloads with the fact that I am in an MFA program. I have discussed Joseph Campbell, watched films clips and full length movies, read scripts, taken quizzes, and interacted with many students and colleagues in an effort to hone those scripts of mine that remain largely unread.

Hopefully I am not painting a terribly negative picture of my education. For a while, I expected the school to work for me. I expected opportunities to be handed my way. Perhaps that was my fault. They said they would teach me about the business side of this craft. Aside from one particular instructor who has taken the time to do so, that has not happened. Nonetheless, I have learned many different things both about the craft and the business. The greatest lessons, however, have come on my own time. They have come almost by accident.

First, I have learned to be patient. Whoever said patience is a virtue was obviously not a writer. In this line of business patience is not a choice. It is simply a must, a requirement for me to hold on tightly to my own deluded sense of reality, hope, and change. Even though I have not mastered the art of waiting, I know full well that without it, the results could be disastrous. So everyday, I wear my “virtue” on my sleeve and a matching mask on my face that shows the world that I have at the very least resigned myself to pretending to be patient.

Next I have learned how to network. I even have my own fancy business card to prove it. I got five hundred of them at once and thought I'd arrived. Well, after giving one hundred away to my family and friends, I am left with approximately 390 cards. I have tried to account for those other ten, but so far I have been unsuccessful. Maybe I gave them to someone who actually could help my budding career or hobby as I safely refer to it as. Nonetheless, I've definitely learned that connections are the key to this business. It does not matter if it's my friend's, sister's, nephew's, acquaintance who knows the owner of AM PM who knows a script reader at a studio. At least I know someone!

It's too bad I'm not at liberty to say talent is the most important aspect here. For me as well as those much more skilled and able than myself, I cannot say that talent is the end-all in this business. Have you seen some of the terrible films Hollywood has produced? Those were at one point written by someone. Sure it's naïve to think that what we see on the screen is precisely what once filled the paper. Still though, it would be naïve of me to think that some “talented” people did not ruin that original work because they had a “vision” of how to make it into something much better.

So here I am on the outside of Hollywood looking in. My three feature scripts remain unsold, unread. My four television spec scripts remain funny only to myself and a few professors at school. Still, I continue to give my scripts to every friend of a friend I can get a hold of. I wait patiently for them to call while waiting patiently for the agencies and managers to give me a chance. Just got a small bite the other day. We'll see.

Currently submitted work to a theatre company. Should hear from them soon they say. I've even begun a possible future as a copywriter. Wedding videos are the plan now.

Through it all, I continue to write for film and television. I am currently working on a pilot with a struggling actor friend of mine. We think it's funny and so do some people who have seen it. Of course, nobody of actual importance has ever heard of it or us just yet.

Why do I torture myself this way? Because, for starters, I honestly love it. Sure I love the creative side of it all. Story, plot, character, twists, plants and payoffs. The real truth of the matter, however, is that I not only write because I can, but also because I cannot do anything else. I am not good at mathematical equations. I am not scientific in any way. I do not care to remember historical names and dates. I cannot bring myself to work in a cubicle in some rundown building – Ever seen Office Space? Yeah, it scared me too.

With writing, I feel that I am good at what I do, or what I want to do. Every person I have ever encountered has told me that I am talented. From elementary school to my current MFA program, I have been told, “Keep writing. You're talented. Just keep going. Something big will happen for you.” Hmmmm. To believe or not to believe. That is the question. And what makes it worse is that I really WANT to believe them.