John August

Directors

On Dogfooding, and scratching your own itch

Directors, Follow Up, Psych 101

Several readers have written in to ask whether we have plans for Chrome or Firefox versions of [Less IMDb](http://quoteunquoteapps.com/less-imdb). We don’t — not because we have anything against those browsers. We just don’t use them nearly as much as Safari. We built the extension to address our own needs, and shared it with others because they might like it.

When you make something that you yourself use, that’s called [dogfooding](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=dogfooding+(to+dogfood)), a contraction of “eating your own dogfood.” That’s developer-speak, but it’s a mindset screenwriters would do well to appropriate.

Aspiring screenwriters will often throw a few loglines at me and ask which one they should write. My answer is always, “The one you would pay money to see.”

That’s dogfooding’s close cousin, scratching your own itch. You’re writing movies you wish existed.

Looking at successful filmmakers — in particular, writer-directors — it’s pretty clear who is doing this. Tarantino makes movies to fill a special shelf at his fantasy video store. Wes Anderson makes movies his own characters would dissect over canapes.

If you have more mainstream taste, great. Embrace that. Scratch your own itch. But forget about “commercial” or “high concept.” If you’re writing a movie you yourself wouldn’t buy a ticket to see, you’re wasting everyone’s time.

Three directors, no money for rent

Directors, Film Industry, QandA

questionmarkI have a good problem. Three of my scripts have found directors in the last two weeks, after about 18 months of development. But! I just lost my day job and my bank account is in dire straits.

Each director has given me comprehensive notes, enough to keep me working overtime if writing was my sole moneymaker. I want to show them what a quick, clean worker I am, but I also have to pay my bills, and eat. What the hell do I do?

— Ben
NYC

Most screenwriters are broke at some point. Better it happens at the start of your career than the end.

I had a gap between my last “real” job and my first paid screenwriting assignment. I watched what little money I had dribble away. I made a spreadsheet budget and figured I could make it two months. My mom helped pay my rent, and I made it five months until the first check came. During that time, I wasn’t going out a lot.

Cut your expenses as low as you can. Don’t buy Starbucks. Cook cheap things you can eat for a week. And cancel your cable — you’ll be too busy working to watch.

Desperation can be productive. You have a lot of incentive to work your ass off.

Don’t get evicted or ruin your credit. You probably have someone in your life who can loan you some money to see you through this stretch. Maybe it’s a parent. Maybe it’s a friend. So ask. Be honest about the good things that are happening, and the bad things.

How cool are the directors/producers you’re working with? If there’s one you really click with — and who doesn’t seem to be down to his last twenty — be candid about your situation and see if he’ll advance you some money. A director can’t get your best work if you’re fighting to stay afloat.

There’s no romance in being broke, and no shame either. Be smart and work through it.

On Alice in Wonderland

Directors, Film Industry, Projects

Because people keep asking: I didn’t work on Disney’s Tim Burton-directed *Alice in Wonderland*. At all.

The movie was written by Linda Woolverton. I never read the script, and haven’t seen a frame beyond the trailers and commercials. I’ll get to see the film for the first time on Monday, and really look forward to it.

With that clarification out of the way, let me explain a strange fact of my career: I’ve *not written* Alice in Wonderland three times. It’s a recurring motif.

1995
—-

The story that became Go was originally envisioned as a retelling of Alice, substituting the underground rave scene for Wonderland. As it developed, I pretty thoroughly scotched those ambitions, but you can still see vestigial elements in the first section of the film:

* Ronna, like Alice, charges boldly into unknown territory, and proves unexpectedly brave in the face of strange events.
* She visits a smoking psychedelicist who talks in riddles but ultimately helps her.
* Poorly labeled drugs are consumed with unanticipated consequences.
* A talking (telepathic) cat offers advice.

Other than the cat, these are all extremely tenuous connections. I would never claim that Go is remotely an adaptation of Alice. Rather, I had Alice bumping around in my head during Go’s genesis, and some Alice DNA worked its way into the genotype. For example, the yellow Miata was for a long time a white Volkwagen Rabbit.

2000
—

Shortly after the release of Go, producer Paul Rosenberg brought me to E3 to introduce me to American McGee, who was working on a [videogame adaptation](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_McGee’s_Alice) of Alice. The world he had come up with was dark and spectacular. American and I hit it off so well that two hours later we were pitching a movie version to director Wes Craven.

Craven said yes, and Miramax bought it the next day. They wanted the movie out within a year.

But I was already committed to writing three other projects. So we reached a compromise: rather than writing the script, I would write a detailed treatment laying out the characters, story and world. So I did. The document was 21 single-spaced pages. American McGee liked it, as did the producers. Wes Craven didn’t. And thus began a series of writers and re-imaginings that as far as I know may continue to this day. It’s been in turnaround several times.

I left the project having a friendly relationship with American McGee, who later introduced me to fellow game designer Jordan Mechner. Which begat the movie version of Prince of Persia and several other collaborations.

2007
—-

While standing in the registration line for the Sundance Film Festival, where The Nines was about to premiere, I got a call asking if I would be interested in writing an adaptation of Alice in Wonderland for director Sam Mendes at Dreamworks. I said yes as I was trying on my official Sundance parka.

I met with Sam in New York and pitched my take, which blended a lot of Lewis Carroll’s biography into the story. As before, I was backed up on other projects (including the release of The Nines), so it would be six months before I could get started. I got about 40 pages written before the WGA strike began, at which point I had to stop working.

During the strike, Disney’s Woolverton-scripted Alice roared to life when Tim Burton signed on to direct it. I’d always been aware of it as a potentially-competing project, but now my Alice would be going up against the guy who had directed my last three films. It didn’t matter that our takes were wildly different; the world didn’t need or want two pricey Alice in Wonderland movies.

The day the strike ended, I called Sam Mendes, the studio, the producer, and my agent. Tim Burton’s movie was already in preproduction. It was pointless for me to keep writing something that couldn’t and shouldn’t get made. After a few days of discussion, we reached an agreement. I wrote a check back to Dreamworks and the project was killed.

This adaption of Alice was the closest of any of mine to becoming real. I love what I wrote, so it’s disappointing and frustrating that it won’t end up on screen. But that reality is a big part of any working screenwriter’s life. Much more important than this half-written movie was maintaining relationships with studios and filmmakers I hope to keep working with for the next few decades.

I left Alice to write a different movie for Sam Mendes and two more projects for Tim Burton. So, as before, my failed Alice had a curious number of upsides.

2025
—-

Considering it’s been 15 years to this point, I suspect it may be another 15 before I finally write an Alice in Wonderland. That’s okay. Writers aren’t Olympic athletes; we can have very long careers.

Whatever the future looks like, Alice in Wonderland will still be relevant. Depending on your approach, the story can be silly, scary, ominous or charming. Is it a dark parable of computerized dystopia? Sure. Candy-colored comedy of manners? Perfect.

Alice has become one of our fundamental myths, an ur-story that thrives through perpetual reinvention. I’m looking forward to seeing this year’s Alice, and all the ones thereafter.

Prepping for the Directors Close-Up panels

Directors, Indie, Los Angeles

Tonight and next Wednesday, I’ll be hosting the [Directors Close-Up](http://filmindependent.org/content/directors-closeup) panels for Film Independent.

Tonight’s director is Jason Reitman, joined by cinematographer Eric Steelberg, editor Dana E. Glauberman and composer Rolfe Kent. We’ll be talking about Up In The Air, Juno and Thank You For Smoking.

Next Wednesday’s director guest will be announced tonight. We’ll be talking about casting and working with actors.

Word from the organizers is that it’s almost sold out, but “a limited number of passes” will still be available at the door if you want to try. It’s at the Landmark Theater in West LA, beginning at 7:30pm.

Film Independent is recording these panels, so if you’re living outside Los Angeles, don’t despair: I’ll pass along the info when I have it. In preparation for the series, they shot a bunch of short interview pieces with me, which you can see [up on YouTube](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7a0zVJxaiPY).

The Twitter hashtag for the series is #DCU2010. If you have questions for anyone on the panel tonight, tweet it ([@johnaugust](http://twitter.com/johnaugust)) and I’ll try to ask.