You have to remember that as the screenwriter, you’re the only person in the room who has actually seen the movie. You’ve seen the locations in your head. You’ve heard the music. So everyone else is trying to catch up with you, and you need to help them.

I’m paraphrasing a bit — none of this was recorded. But it’s such a smart observation that I didn’t want it to slip by undocumented.

Most of my job as a screenwriter is helping other people see the movie in my head. Obviously, the screenplay is a lot of that, but all the conversations that go along with it are often just as important.

My question is: How does one get that credit? Do you have to do some actual writing for it or is it some sort of a vanity credit? (I assume it isn’t, because otherwise every producer or executive type would have a whole stack of those on their record.)

– Steffen
Nuremberg, Germany

Craig Mazin is on the screen credits committee, so he can likely answer this more thoroughly. But I can at least give you my take on it.

For feature films, the official WGA credits are “Story by” and “Screenplay by,” which can be combined to make “Written by.”¹ When something is based on preexisting source material, like a book or a play, that original writer gets a “based on a novel/play by Original Writer.” ²

Your instincts are right: Producers often have ideas for movies, but rarely do they get a specific, additional credit for it. However, if they wrote those ideas down, even in prose form, they could very likely get “story” or “source material” credit.

Per the Screen Credits Manual, the requirements for these two credits are as follows:

3) Source Material

Source material is all material, other than story as hereinafter defined, upon which the story and/or screenplay is based.

This means that source material is material assigned to the writer which was previously published or exploited and upon which the writer’s work is to be based (e.g., a novel, a produced play or series of published articles), or any other material written outside of the Guild’s jurisdiction (e.g., literary material purchased from a non-professional writer). Illustrative examples of source material credits are: “From a Play by”, “From a Novel by”, “Based upon a Story by”, “From a series of articles by”, “Based upon a Screenplay by” or other appropriate wording indicating the form in which such source material is acquired. Research material is not considered source material.

4) Story

The term “story” means all writing covered by the provisions of the Minimum Basic Agreement representing a contribution “distinct from screenplay and consisting of basic narrative, idea, theme or outline indicating character development and action.”

It is appropriate to award a “Story by” credit when: 1) the story was written under employment under Guild jurisdiction; 2) the story was purchased by a signatory company from a professional writer, as defined in the Minimum Basic Agreement; or 3) when the screenplay is based upon a sequel story written under the Guild’s jurisdiction. If the story is based upon source material of a story nature, see “screen story” below.

When you see a credit like “based on an idea by,” that’s clearly a “source material” type of credit. In the case of Gosford Park, it may have been the strange way Robert Altman shoots. Apparently, rather than a complete screenplay, they had a framework upon which his actors improvised, with screenwriter Julian Fellowes on set to help shape the scenes.

Regardless of the specific situation, I’m not a fan of the “based on an idea by” credit, and would like to see it stay rare. It over-emphasizes the vague conception of a movie, at the expense of the distinctions provided by characters, narrative, theme and action (that is, story).

For example, “a movie about the Civil War” is an idea. Gone With The Wind is a story. For them to have rough equivalence is absurd.

1. There is also a very rare “Adaptation by” credit, which is only given in specific, complicated situations.
2. Where it gets weird is when a movie is based on an earlier movie’s screenplay, such as a remake of a foreign film. There is ongoing discussion in the Guild about how to best handle this.

– Kenneth Dunlap

Yes, it’s okay to send out your script to multiple agents (or producers) at once. Advised, in fact. You don’t know which, if any, of these people will work out. And waiting around for magic to happen isn’t a viable strategy.

If multiple agents are interested, you’ll meet with each and decide which one best represents your interests and ambitions. Sure, you’ll leave one or more agents disappointed.

They’re grown-ups. They’ll get over it.

Now, I am having similar problems with my new screenplay in pre-production. This time, it is a child adventure that is very close to my heart, a story about ghosts and divided families. I have a very tight screenplay that is focused in the protagonists. It´s a story about a family of ghosts that is trapped in a house, each member enclosed in a separate room. Three young heroes tries to broke the curse that binds them there. Because of this, the plot is mainly focused inside the house, with a little touch of claustrophobia. Now I have the studio which is banking the project demanding the adding of new subplots. But I fear that the added subplots will loosen the narrative.

My question is: What you do when you truly think that your story don´t need to have new plots, but you have to add them anyway? How can I cut to external situations without weakening my main story?

РSylvio Gon̤alves
Brazil

You’re facing exactly the situation Hollywood writers find themselves in on almost every job. You have the draft you think is ready to shoot, but other powerful forces are pushing for more changes. Sometimes the changes come out of necessity — they simply can’t afford to shoot that sequence. But more often, the changes feel arbitrary. “We need more monkey jokes. Everyone loves monkeys.”¹

So what should you do?

Lick you finger and see which way the wind is blowing. If there seems to be a consensus that more monkey jokes are needed, then add them. And don’t add half-assed monkey jokes in the hopes that they’ll fail and get cut later, because screenwriter karma dictates that the worst things you write will always get prominently featured in the trailer. So make them good monkey jokes.

Am I seriously advocating selling out?

Yes, for you Sylvio, because with one produced credit you don’t have a lot of hand to be saying, “Absolutamente não.” If making the changes will completely undermine the movie, your job is to get the other decision-makers (director, producers) to realize this. The best way to do it is to write the changes as well as you can, and present them with your reservations, explaining in advance how hard you tried, what works and what doesn’t.

There is a small but real danger that they will disagree and shoot your revisions. But your version is no doubt better than what the director or another writer would have come up with.

Coincidentally, I’m going through the same thing right now on a project I’m writing. I’ll be spending three days doing revisions I’m pretty sure won’t work, but that’s the best way to demonstrate to everyone why they won’t work. The silver lining is that the process of doing these failed revisions may inadvertently create some good material that will be helpful in other parts of the script.

In your specific case, I’d make sure that whenever you’re cutting to external situations, you’re using the cuts to increase the overall energy. Make sure you’re leaving the house with a question unanswered, and returning to the house with something changed. ² You’re probably using claustrophobia to create tension, but there are many other tools in a writer’s arsenal. (Also, we’ll notice the enclosed spaces more if we’ve had some contrast.)

Good luck.

1. This is true, up to a certain threshold. More than three monkeys, and I start to get nervous. You’re getting into monkey gang territory, and working together, they could probably take down a grown man.
2. Consider how Lost uses its flashbacks/flashforwards. They’re interrupting the flow, but they’re goosing the overall energy.

Now I know stealing ideas rarely happens and there isn’t anything I can do to protect my rights on a story in the public domain, but if a producer I query decides to adapt the same novel I have, without using my script, well then my script is pretty much dead in the water, right?

Basically I was curious to find out if you think I should stop worrying and pitch these adaptation, or should I focus on pitching the other two scripts I’ve written (which are based on true stories I control the rights to) and then pull out my adaptations once I forge a working relationship with a producer?

– Rob
Ohio

Would it suck if a producer, upon reading your query letter (or hearing your pitch), decided to go off and use the same public domain material as the basis for a different writer’s script? Yes.

Is it likely? Not really.

Let’s say you wrote an adaptation of some lesser-known Christopher Marlowe work. Say, “Dido, Queen of Carthage.” The producer is unlikely to know anything about the story, so if your pitch (or query) is interesting enough that he wants to know more, he’ll read your script. At that point, you’ve succeeded in getting a producer to read your material, and that’s the whole point of pitches and queries at this stage in your career.

Sure, you hope he loves it and wants to produce it. But that’s all dependent on his reaction to your writing. If he likes your writing, and he likes the idea, you’re golden. If he doesn’t like your writing, his loss.¹

Either way, I think it’s unlikely that your script would suddenly kindle an interest in a long-ignored literary property. I’m sure there are cases where that’s happened, but it feels like the exception, rather than the rule. So if the best script you have available is an adaptation of a public domain piece, by all means show it around.

1. As a reminder, I assume that everyone writing in with a question is a fantastic screenwriter. This is an absurd postulate, but lets me sleep better at night.

Suddenly. last week an A-list producer wants my script. I asked myself why? Then I found through the trades, a major studio, producer and director are making a movie about this same event. There is a well known writer attached. But no script yet.

What should I do? Let my project die? Or go to the competition and drum up buzz? Suddenly my little personal script has become “commercially viable.” This is stuff I would discuss with an agent or manager, but presently, I have neither.

Any advice would be greatly appreciated. Again, thanks.

– Sung Ju
Venice, CA

I originally misread your question, and assumed that it was the competing project’s producer who was trying to buy your script — perhaps in the hopes of squashing it. That’s rare, but it does happens, and I’d have a hard time giving you helpful advice.

But since it’s apparently a completely different A-list producer who wants your script, let me lift my virtual 2×4 and smack you gently with it. Sell, Sung Ju, sell.

You have no agent, no manager, and no compelling reason to say no. If you like the A-list producer, go for it. The fact that there’s a competing project shouldn’t slow you down. In fact, it lights a fire under your producer to try to get your movie into production before the other one. And as a well-known screenwriter, let me assure you: lots of projects get started that never make it into production. (CoughTARZAN).

So go for it. Let the A-list producer hand-deliver you to an agency. Even if your script never gets made, your career has begun.

The only reason to put on the brakes would be if you intend to direct the movie yourself as a small-budget indie. If that’s truly your heart’s ambition, then don’t go with the giant producer. You need to be matched up with someone who makes movies of your size with first-time filmmakers. The screenwriting lab would likely be the place to get hooked up.

Either way, write back in six months and let us know what happened.

–Falzone

I got my co-producer credit on GO for three reasons. First, I asked for it. No one is going to offer it to you out of the blue. Second, I sold my script to a tiny company that couldn’t afford to pay me much, so they were much more inclined to offer me something that didn’t cost them anything – and they didn’t have any "precedents" to break. It’s extremely unlikely I could have gotten that credit at a major studio, particularly on my first feature.

The third and most important reason I got the credit was that I did the work. I was there for every casting session, every budget crisis and pretty much every frame of film shot. I went through a dozen or more different cuts of the movie, along with the trailer and the commercials. Being a co-producer gave me enough authority to be involved in these decisions, but it came with a load of repsonsibilities.

Does everyone with a co-producer credit do this much work? Unfortunately, no. Producer credits are all too frequently handed out.

You’re right in assuming a spec script is a stronger position to be in when negotiating for credit. As long as you have the option to walk away, a buyer is more likely to give you what you want. (That’s also how Jessica Bendinger got her co-producer credit for BRING IT ON.)

–Jay

The best advice I can give you is to keep an open mind as you’re talking with them, and not to commit to any changes during a meeting. Remember that they can only offer suggestions about what they’d like to see changed, not how to actually do it. That’s your job. Any damage done to the script will be your doing, not theirs.

A lot of times, I’ll encounter a note that seems idiotic or unworkable. But the more I talk with the note-givers, I begin to understand what they’re really getting at. Maybe something that I think is obvious simply isn’t clear, or the problem isn’t with the scene itself, but how much it’s ultimately going to cost to film.

Try to make every meeting a real conversation, rather than a session of attack-and-defend. The ability to look at your work objectively and impassively takes a lot of time to develop, but it’s a skill that will ultimately make your scripts stronger.

–D

Carefully. And prepare for it to get rough.

I’m including your question not because I can offer you any real help, but to remind readers that producers don’t have an easy life. Aspiring screenwriters tend to think of producers as sharks or gurus, but often they’re people like D struggling to make a movie under difficult circumstances.

Just a guess, but I suspect the screenwriter who wrote the first draft is inexperienced, and may not be up for the task. If D or the director decides to replace him, who’s the bad guy? If the mother freaks out, who’s going to deal with her?

The real world, outside of the safety of 12-point Courier, is chock full of these uncomfortable situations, and producers aren’t always the bad guys.

–RBC

Once the script has left the writer’s hands, he never has complete control over anything. That’s the first and possibly the most frustrating truth about screenwriting.

In order to be filmed, your perfect vision has to be mucked up by directors, actors, editors and cinematographers, each of whom will change it to greater and lesser degrees. The hope is that each step of the way, they’ll make it better. Surprisingly, sometimes they do.

Your question is about remakes, where there’s a general familiarity with the characters and the concept, and your instincts are right. Since everyone involved on the project knows the underlying material, they all have strong opinions about how to proceed.

The writer’s job, in this case, is to try to capture as much as possible of what’s beloved about the original, and yet still make a movie that can stand on its own.

In the case of CHARLIE’S ANGELS, the producers and I had long talks about the tone and characters, independent of the plot. Rather than mocking the original series, we wanted the movie to be a giant hug around it. We wanted the angels to be super-competent on the job, and approachably dorky in their off-time. Despite all the action, this would be fundamentally a comedy, and cool people just aren’t funny.

All of this seems pretty obvious watching the final movie, but getting everyone to agree to this approach was easily half of my job. It would have been easier to make a straight-out spoof (like SCARY MOVIE), or a full-on action movie (like James Bond), but I don’t think either would have been as successful.

–David Demchuk

Although Columbia Pictures ultimately released GO, they weren’t the original buyer of the script (in fact, every studio in town had passed on it, feeling the subject matter was too dark). A tiny company called Banner Entertainment read the script and wanted to make the movie, but since they didn’t have a lot of money to put up front, they offered a few things a studio normally wouldn’t.

First, they guaranteed I would be the first, last and only writer on the project. Second, they would give me the right to buy the script back if the movie hadn’t gone into production within 18 months. Finally, they would keep me on board as co-producer.

The various flavors of producer credit (executive producer, associate producer, co-producer) are tossed around a bit too easily in Hollywood, and all too often they’re given to people who don’t really deserve them, such as an actor’s mananger. In my case, I actually earned my masters degree in the film producer’s program at USC, so I was weirdly well qualified for the job.

For the first week or two, I just sat quietly in meetings, happy to be there. But ultimately I got highly involved in every aspect of the production, from hiring Doug Liman to direct it to scrambling for funds when our foreign financing fell apart (I had just made a deal with Columbia’s sister studio, Tri-Star, which is a large reason why the movie ended up there). During production, I was on-set from call to wrap, and sat in on five months of editing. It was an amazing experience.

In total, there were five producers on GO. The three "full" producers were Paul Rosenberg, who had set up the script and given me my first two jobs in the business; Mickey Liddell, who ran Banner Entertainment; and Matt Freeman, who worked with Mickey and brought him the script. The other co-producer was Paddy Cullen, who oversaw the physical production, including the budget, schedule and insurance.

Looking back, it’s hard to imagine making the movie without all those people doing their part. While GO had some unique challenges, every production needs its good cops and bad cops, peacemakers and war-bringers. A writer can go off and work by himself, but a producer needs to lead dozens of other people. It’s a very different set of skills.

Since GO, I have co-executive produced a television series, and signed on to produce a big-budget monster movie that I’m writing at Columbia. But even on projects where I’m "just" a writer, the experience of having produced is a tremendous advantage in anticipating the needs of the filmmakers.