Optioning your book
I have submitted a book to a producer. This is my first book, but they are wanting to make it. What can I expect as far as monetary compensation for the rights to the story being that I am an unknown author?
–Alma
The short answer is, not a lot. The long answer is more complicated.
When a producer buys the rights to a short story or book, usually what is being purchased is the option on the rights. What this means is that the producer is buying the right to buy the rights at a later time. He’s saying, "I’m gonna pay you $1000 today. In exchange for that $1000, you promise you won’t sell anyone else the rights during the next twelve months. Also, any time during these twelve months, I can pay you $25,000 and you’ll sell me all the film rights to the book."
In this example, $1000 is the option price, and $25,000 is the full purchase (or buyout) price. But those are completely arbitrary numbers. Often the option price is just $1. Sometimes the full purchase price is $1 milllion. And the length of the option can vary as well, from six months up to two years or more, perhaps with a clause allowing the producer to renew the option at fixed price.
In short, the dollars and dates can be anything, but the basic structure of the deal is the same.
By why does a producer bother with an option? Why not just put down the full purchase price at the start?
Because it’s a risk. Lots of things can and will go wrong in the process of trying to make a movie, and the less a producer has to put down up front, the safer it is. And in many ways, an option protects the original writer as well. If the producer isn’t able to get the project made, the option expires and the writer gets all claim back to her work. She even gets to keep the money. She can set up the book with a different producer and do the whole thing all over again.
So how much can you, Alma, hope to make from the book this producer wants to buy? Unless there are a lot of other buyers interested in it, nothing is going to drive the price up. And since you don’t have any track record of being paid a certain amount for your work - what’s called a quote - there’s really no minimum to expect.
At this level, you should expect a low option price, with the possibility of a bigger full purchase price. I can’t see any advantage to selling out all rights to the book at this point, because you’d then be giving this producer the rights forever, and for not a lot of money.
In this situation, you’re mostly just dealing with how much faith you put in this producer to get the movie made.
Film vs. TV writers
Is there a big difference between being a film writer and a TV writer? Do you pretty much only do one or the other?
–Alex
Increasingly, many writers work in both film and TV, either simultaneously or at different phases in their careers. Good writing is good writing, so the likelihood is that if someone is a good film writer, she’ll be a good TV writer, and vice-versa. But there are some important differences between the two mediums.
Writing for series television means following a prescribed format, whether it’s a sitcom or a one-hour drama. There are true act breaks to allow for commercials, a limited number of recurring characters and sets, and an overall mandate about what kinds of stories can happen. Television writing is generally collaborative, with a group of writers contributing to that week’s script, under the supervision of a producer called the "showrunner." The pace of television writing is much, much faster than film writing, because there’s a continuous need to keep up with production. In many ways, being a TV writer is like having a real job, because you’re working office hours — although they’re often quite long office hours.
Writing for film has far fewer limits on structure, storyline, characters and tone. It’s also a much more solitary endeavor, because aside from occasional producer note, you’re off doing the work by yourself on your own timetable. Some writers thrive in that freedom, while others become paralyzed by indecision. Usually, a film writer is paid per draft, rather than per week as a TV writer is, so dawdling can be costly.
There are other important differences between film and TV work. In television, you see your work on screen every week. In film, you’re lucky if you see it on screen once a year.
On film, you get to use your characters for two hours. On TV, you get to use them for a hundred hours or more over the lifetime of the show.
In film, the writer has very little say in the final execution of the work. In television, the writer supercedes the director.
Now, true confession time. After the success of GO, I created and ran a one-hour drama on the WB network. While the circumstances and personalities surrounding that show were uniquely unpleasant, even in the best of situations, I could never, ever see myself running a television series again. While any project, film or TV, is going to involve some compromises, television is nothing but compromises: not enough time, not enough money, not enough energy to fight the same battle for the 43rd time. And if you’re writing a show about cops, then by default you’re not getting to write that space epic you’ve always dreamed about. So you’re compromising your own aspirations as well.
I have friends who truly enjoy their work in television, and manage to pull off a film career as well, so it can be done. But in answer to your question, Alex, some people are better off doing one or the other.
Various locations
Can you tell me what is preferred/correct for this situation? Mabel is moving through a house (and, if necessary, outside):
INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
Mabel searches for the cat.
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
Mabel searches for the cat.
EXT. STREET - DAY
Mabel searches for the cat.
Et cetera. Thanks very much.
–Arnold Sable
Yeah, that pretty much sucks, Arnold. Unless you are repeating the sentence for some effect, perhaps showing how intensely single-minded Mabel can be, almost anything else would be better.
The simplest choice would be to use a different scene heading that encompasses all needed locations, such as:
INT. HOUSE - VARIOUS ROOMS - DAY
Or, if you do want to show each location, try varying your descriptions of Mabel’s search so that they don’t repeat.
Finally, you could consider using a montage format:
MONTAGE as Mabel searches for the cat:
— She pulls open the dryer in the laundry room.
— Checks the kitchen cupboards.
— Searches under the porch with a flashlight.
— Pokes the broom under the sofa.
— Rechecks the kitchen cupboards again.
What format you choose really depends on the situation, and how much information you need the reader to know.
Book before the script?
I’ve heard it being said that one of the ways to get producers interested in your screenplay’s story is to do it the long way and write the book first. Do you agree, and is it harder to get a book published than a screenplay bought?
–Brian
Wow. Writing a screenplay, and then writing a book based on the screenplay, seems like a tremendous amount of misdirected work. Yes, some producers do like to read novels, but the vast majority would prefer a script to a novel any day of the week. After all, a script is a lot closer to being a movie than a book is. Plus it’s shorter, and you can throw it across the room without damaging your walls.
My advice is to pick the format you’d prefer to write, hopefully the one that best matches your story. If you choose to write a book, make it the best book possible — don’t go overboard trying to load it up with "this would be a great movie!" moments. If you choose to write a script, trust that the quality of your writing is all you’ll need to sell it.
I recently adapted a book called BIG FISH by author Daniel Wallace. Meeting with him for the first time, I was surprised to see he had never thought of his book being a movie. The moments I thought were cinematic, he thought were just good storytelling.
As for your second question, I’m not sure whether being published is easier or harder than selling a script. My gut instinct is that it’s easier to be published, simply because there are so many different publishing houses, and frankly, so many books. But there’s a big difference between being published and making money.
Original films
These days, first time filmmakers are making works of true strength and originality. The music video school of direction is making movies so stylish that surpassing them would lead to incomprehensability. It seams as though tomorrow’s writers and directors have very little chance to distinguish themselves from the masses of post-Tarantino, super-fancy movies. Is there any way to be something new without reinventing the entire film industry? Must we make avant-garde insanity just to stand out?
–REJ Bach
At first, I thought you were being sarcastic, but on second reading I guess you really are a fan of current cinema. I am too. I think it’s an exciting time to be making, and watching, movies.
Every few months I find myself sitting on panels where an audience member asks a "question" that is really just an excuse to say that nobody knows how to make movies anymore. (Hint to future audience members: just because you say "Don’t you agree?" at the end doesn’t turn a polemic into a question.) I try to be polite and talk about how a younger generation is used to an accellerated speed of storytelling, and doesn’t need to have the dots connected as much, but my true instinct is to tell them to shove it. Yes, Hollywood is making a lot of bad movies, but Hollywood has always made bad movies. You’re just remembering the CITIZEN KANE’s and forgetting the TARZAN AND THE TROLL PEOPLE’s.
Where I disagree with you, REJ, is whether we’ve reached any kind of zenith in storytelling or stylishness. For all the flashy techniques we’ve seen, there’s a thousand more that haven’t been invented, and the backlash against some of the current trends will likely lead to other new ideas. For example, the bullet-time effect in THE MATRIX has been played to death, but in fact it was only one application of a much more important concept: camera movement doesn’t need to be constrained to temporal reality. The next wave of filmmakers will be able to take the concept further, and find new ways to visualize impossible things.
In terms of writing, "post-Tarantino" is a poor catch-all for storytelling that seems to break the normal mold. While it’s true that PULP FICTION had a big influence on a generation of young filmmakers, a lot of the ideas we credit to Tarantino had been percolating for years in less commercially successful films. I believe they would have found their way into a hit sooner or later. (And if I were Tarantino, I’d hate to hear that we were living in a post-Tarantino era. Come on. The guy’s still in his 30’s.)
I’m not a gambler, but I’ll bet every cent I have that some enterprising writer/director will be able to identify the new ideas bubbling under the surface and incorporate them into the next revolutionary mega-blockbuster. It’s the safest wager I could make.
Writers on art direction and cinematography
I am a film school student in southern CA, and I just saw a preview for CHARLIE’S ANGELS. I was very intrigued with the mis-en-scene of the picture and I wonder: How much influence does the writer (in this case) have over the art direction and style of photography?
–Anonymous
Well, clearly you’re a film student because you used the term "mis-en-scene." In the case of CHARLIE’S ANGELS, I was more involved than usual during pre-production because of the overall coolness of the director, McG, and production issues that would end up affecting the script. So I saw storyboards and got to know Russell Carpenter, the director of photography. But that’s the exception, rather than the rule.
In general, a writer doesn’t have a lot of direct input on the art direction or photographic style of the movie. Unless it’s important, you don’t mention the color of the walls or whether the light is incandescent or fluorescent. Not only would all these details piss off the people whose job it is to make these decisions, they would make your screenplay unreadable.
That said, remember that it is the screenwriter’s job to evoke the experience of watching the movie through words. Somehow, you have to give a sense of the visual style of the movie without mentioning it all the time. For instance, CHARLIE’S ANGELS tweaks a lot of the conventions of the original TV show, with triptychs and wipes, so when appropriate I included those in the movie. And the plot itself lent a lot to the visual style, setting it entirely in Southern California and featuring three beautiful women who go undercover in all sort of disguises.
How much description is too much? The first time your script visits a location, you can give a sentence or two to describe it. More if you really have to. And if a character is wearing something important to the plot, you absolutely need to describe it.
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