John August

Archives for 2006

Retcon

Geek Alert, Words on the page

In doing some research for a project today, I came across a great term I’d never seen: retcon. According to Wikipedia:

Retroactive continuity or retcon is the adding of new information to “historical” material, or deliberately changing previously established facts in a work of serial fiction. The change itself is referred to as a “retcon”, and the act of writing and publishing a retcon is called “retconning”. Retconning can be done either on-purpose, or accidentally, wherein a break in continuity is not noticed until later and is then blessed by later events.

The [full article](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Retcon) has many examples.

Many of my favorite TV shows and comic books have gone through significant retconning. The first thing that comes to mind is “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” which not only gave Buffy a kid sister in the fifth season, but made the reconfiguration of the backstories a key plot point. It was almost a meta-retcon. Which is too much responsibility to pile on a word I’ve only known for about for 15 minutes.

Quick, someone wiki it: [[retcon]]

A Thousand Roads lead to this

Video

About a year ago, I took a Final Cut Pro class at UCLA Extension. It was a mixed success. I already knew too much for a beginner class, but wasn’t proficient enough for a more advanced session. So I ended up having a lot of extra time to fiddle around with the test footage that comes with the FCP tutorial — in this case, from [A Thousand Roads](http://imdb.com/title/tt0407254/), which is apparently a movie about the Native American experience.

One lesson I learned from the first Charlie’s Angels: when characters are speaking in foreign languages, the subtitles can say anything.

When do you walk away?

Charlie's Angels, Film Industry, QandA, Tarzan, The Nines

questionmarkSo I’m doing it again. Writing on a project that I feel in my gut is doomed. It’s paying me money and I know many writers are looking for that first paying gig. This is my umpteenth paying gig, and somehow I’m not really that much further along in my career than I was four years ago when I started. But I am a bit wiser. Wise enough to know when producers and development execs are really out to lunch. But apparently not wise enough to jump off this sinking ship. Baby needs a new pair of shoes, right?

And so I must ask someone wiser and infinitely more successful than I am: at what point do you pull the plug. You know, you’re getting notes that make no sense. You’re executing a project that is someone else’s “idea”…though you know full well this someone doesn’t realize that his idea is nothing yet…not until you deliver a script that will undoubtedly be everything he did not imagine (because he really hasn’t imagined anything at all).

When do you save yourself the embarrassment and heartache and suddenly become “unavailable due to a scheduling conflict.” Yes, sometimes the most unlikely projects fraught with problems go on to become successes. Apparently Casablanca didn’t have a script and was being written anew the night before each shooting day. But my experience also tells me that is the exception and that doing it “right” has a higher likelihood of turning out a creatively successful product. What’s John August’s tipping point? When does he leap? What are the danger signs that make John August say, “My employers are completely whacked and I’m catching the next bus out of here”?

— Skip
Vancouver

Often, the only power a screenwriter has is to walk away, and the decision whether to do it is almost never straightforward. But there are a few key points to consider:

1. **Write movies, not scripts.** Always recognize that the words scrolling up and down on your monitor are the means to an end, not the end itself. An unproduced screenplay is like blueprints for an unbuilt skyscraper — brilliance is irrelevant if it never gets made. So ask yourself: “Am I giving up because of a fundamental concern about the movie, or a concern about the script?” The former is valid, the latter isn’t.

2. **Don’t do free repairs on sinking ships.** The Writers Guild (or the Canadian equivalent) would like to remind you that you’re never supposed to do free rewrites, but the reality is that for a project you believe in, you’re willing to do whatever it takes to get it right. But if you’re questioning the producers’ commitment to the project, ask to get paid for that next batch of tiny tweaks. If they balk, it’s that much easier to walk.

3. **Set some objectives and deadlines.** Agree to do that next pass, but only if they’ll commit to taking it out to directors. Insist on having the follow up meeting this week, not a month from now. Don’t let it drag out.

4. **Write your own notes.** Before the next revision, give them a set of written notes about what you want to do. Let that be the template. If they’re not on board, it’s clearly time to move on.

If it’s any consolation, the decision of when to cut one’s losses never gets easier. I had to walk away from both Charlie’s Angels movies when they completely went off the rails, only to come back later. More recently, I had to let Tarzan go, after more than a year of work.

In both cases, I felt profound frustration and disappointment, both in myself and the people who’d hired me. It wasn’t just the amount of wasted work, but the sense that I was abandoning my creations. The characters were real to me, and now wouldn’t get a chance to live. (This dilemma ultimately became one of the storylines in The Movie.)

The only upside I can offer is that once you leave a project, you remember how many other movies you want to write. Shutting one door opens others.

Follow up: Advice not taken

Follow Up, QandA

[follow up]The cavalcade of [follow ups](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2006/follow-up-please) continues today with this guy, who got conflicting advice and chose to ignore all of it. And somehow still ended up okay. If anything, it’s encouraging to see that my guidance isn’t necessarily that crucial. Most people who are going to make it would make it without me.

__Here’s the [original Q and A](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2004/can-you-be-just-a-screenwriter-anymore):__

Recently, I struck up a correspondence with a successful screenwriter and asked him for advice on how to move my career forward. He told me that I should focus on making films instead of writing them, because that now was the best if not only way to break in.

Do you think that is true? I was inspired to take up screenwriting by people like William Goldman and Richard Price, who worked in the business solely as screenwriters. That’s what you’ve been able to do thus far in your career. Is it still a possibility?

– Vince
Seattle, WA

While films, short and otherwise, are increasingly being used as the foot-in-the-door for young writer-directors, if your goal is to become strictly a screenwriter, I’m not sure it’s the best use of your time and money. Yes, it’s still viable to be “just” a screenwriter. Not only will Richard Price and William Goldman continue to work, but new screenwriters emerge every year, propelled by nothing more than the quality of their writing.

What may have changed over the last decade is the degree to which a screenwriter is required to have social interaction. The classic nebbishy writer who gets spooked by his own shadow would have a hard time in modern Hollywood.

Take me. I’ve produced and directed, but 90% of my work consists of pushing words around on the page. The other 10% is crucial, however. It consists of making phone calls, taking meetings, discussing notes, and feigning interest in terrible projects just to be polite. My writing is what makes me hirable, but it’s sociableness that gets me hired.

One reason this successful screenwriter may have given you this advice is because you’re in Seattle, and while it’s easy to shoot a film there, it’s harder to come in contact with the people (agents, managers, producers) who can help you get your career going as a screenwriter. Since you can’t do the social part of a screenwriter’s job in Seattle, making a film isn’t a terrible idea. But neither is moving to Los Angeles, which might be the better use of your money.

__Here’s what Vince is up to now:__

In September 2004, I asked you for advice about advice I’d received. A successful screenwriter/director suggested that the best way of moving my career forward was to concentrate on making films instead of writing scripts. You said that while that wasn’t a terrible idea, it might be a better use of my resources to move to Los Angeles if I wanted to be a screenwriter.

What to do when two gracious professionals offer contradictory advice? If you’re me, you ignore them both and keep doing your own thing.

After I wrote to you, one of my scripts was named a quarterfinalist in AMPAS’ Nicholl Fellowship competition. That led to some interest from agents and managers. I decided to seize the initiative and contact managers with the news myself. The firm highest on my list asked to read the script. After a suitable interval, I started placing regular follow-up calls.

The manager eventually got on the phone with me, saying he did so for two reasons. I was persistent, and he liked the script. Not enough to sign me — it was too small in scale and lacked an easily marketable hook — but enough to see if I had any others. I had in fact finished one the week before. I stumbled through a description of the story, and the manager asked if I could email him a copy. That day, if possible.

That was a Thursday. On Saturday morning, he called me from a coffee shop to tell me he liked the script. By Monday, I was a client.

Soon enough I was in California for a week’s worth of meetings. One of them was on a movie set in downtown Los Angeles with two producers. They ended up optioning my script. I finished rewriting it for them earlier this month, and it’s out to actors. Another script I’ve written since then is currently in development. I’ve also completed the first draft of a novel, because that’s how I see myself: as a writer.

For now, I still live outside Los Angeles. That may and probably will change. What matters is that I no longer feel like I’m in the wilderness. That is partly due to writers like yourself who are willing to shed some light on how the game is played. For that, I thank you.

— Vince Keenan