John August

Film Industry

Using a pseudonym

Film Industry, QandA, WGA

questionmarkHow do you go about using a pseudonym? My name doesn’t particularly stand out, and I’ve been using a pseudonym I really like while blogging. I’d like to use this as I submit scripts to contests/fellowships/agencies, but I’m not sure of the legalities of doing such. I don’t want to legally change my name — just write under a pen name.

How would I go about doing this, but still receive credit for what I write? How would I make authorship clear on applications/registrations?

— Phillip
Salt Lake City, Utah

Your email included your full name, and I disagree — your last name is straightforward, easy to pronounce and easy to remember. But if you decide you want to use a pseudonym, there’s nothing stopping you.

For now, just use your chosen pseudonym on your scripts. You’ll need to use your real, legal name on contracts and registrations, but for casual purposes, your nom-de-plume is fine. It’s only when people start paying you actual money that you’ll need to address the legitimacy of your pseudonym.

The WGA determines how names appear on screen, and the [rules are pretty specific](http://www.wga.org/subpage_writersresources.aspx?id=71):

PSEUDONYM
19. A writer must use his/her own name in all writing credits unless he/she has already established a pseudonym or registers one at the Guild office before commencement of employment on a writing assignment, or before disposition of any rights to literary material on which he/she wishes to use such pseudonym.

Here’s what this means in practical terms. At some point, you’ll get a job writing for a WGA signatory company (any of the studios or major producers) and will be required to join the WGA. When you do, there will be forms to fill out, including a place for your pseudonym. You better be sure it’s the name you want to use for the next 30 years.

There’s one special case that sometimes comes up. A writer has the [right to use a pseudonym](http://www.wga.org/uploadedFiles/writers_resources/creative_rights/creative-rights.pdf) if she receives credit on a movie, but don’t really want her name associated with it.

> Credited writers of theatrical motion pictures are guaranteed the right to use a “reasonable” pseudonym if the request is made within five business days after credits are final and if the writer was paid less than $200,000 for writing services on the movie. ((The $200K threshold seems arbitrary, but it’s a demand from the studios. If they’re paying a writer that much, they want to be able to use his or her name and credits for marketing purposes.))

In this situation, you’d still get residuals and all the other protections from being a credited writer, but you wouldn’t have to claim public ownership of a movie that went horribly awry.

It’s important to remember that using a pseudonym is different than legally changing your name. That’s what I did in 1992 before moving to California. My original last name flummoxed everyone, so I went to court in order to swap it with my father’s middle name. It was a massive hassle, but in the long run, it’s worked much better to have one name in both public and personal life.

WGA Board election preview

Film Industry, Strike, WGA

Because a sizable number of WGA members read the site, I want to spend a few paragraphs talking about the Board of Directors election coming this September.

Since joining the guild in 1998, I’ve always read the candidate statements carefully — they come in a booklet along with the ballot — trying to balance two competing goals:

1. Who would think most like me?
2. Who brings a different voice to the board?

I score each candidate, then figure out my top eight (or however many are needed that year).

The ballot and booklet haven’t come out yet this year, but one candidate, Howard Michael Gould, has [started a blog](http://gouldforwga.blogspot.com/) outlining his positions and reactions to events affecting the WGA and the community.

I first met Howard on the telephone, discussing a cinematographer he was considering hiring for his movie. Since then, I’ve followed him mostly through his work on the Negotiating Committee — you may remember his speaking at the big WGA meeting at the LA Convention Center. His positions haven’t always been in line with Patric Verrone’s, and I’ve appreciated his candor and thoughtfulness when talking about the strike and Where We Go From Here. In that way, he meets both of my criteria.

I think candidate blogging is a very good idea, one that I hope other candidates will emulate. I’ll happily link to anyone who does.

Making unnecessary and possibly horrible changes

Film Industry, Producers, Psych 101, QandA, Writing Process

questionmarkI’m a struggling screenwriter in Brazil. About one and a half years ago, I had my first screenplay produced, a drama/thriller that had mixed reviews. The large part of the negative reviews pointed to aspects of the screenplay that I was forced to modify in the course of the production. In all, I like the result, but I think it would be better if my fourth draft (not my fifth) would had been the basis for the movie.

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?

— Sylvio Gonçalves
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.” ((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.))

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. ((Consider how Lost uses its flashbacks/flashforwards. They’re interrupting the flow, but they’re goosing the overall energy.)) 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.

Writers need actors

Film Industry, Strike, Television

A few readers have asked whether I’ll weigh in on the SAG situation. I won’t, except to relate an interesting conversation I had with a TV showrunner a month or two ago.

He said his casting people were having a hard time finding actors of a certain age, especially minorities, for episodic parts. These are the “day players” — roles in which an actor might have a scene or two in a given episode, never to return. Shows like Law & Order or C.S.I. require a bunch of these: witnesses, specialists, etc. The nanny who discovers her employer impaled on an icicle — that’s a day player.

Day players aren’t extras. There is actual acting required. Casting directors will bring in a few candidates to read for the part, and the producers/director will pick. A good day player can really elevate a scene. A bad day player is a disaster. ((One anecdote: We shot my first show mostly at stages in Toronto. We quickly learned to check any dialogue to be spoken by a Canadian day player to avoid the ooo problem, and beyond that, we found most of our day players to be terrific. Except for one. She had two lines of dialogue with Mark-Paul Gosselaar, and no force on heaven or Earth could get her to say them properly. It turned out she was drunk. Because she was nervous. Because she had a crush on Mark-Paul Gosselaar. The truth was charming, but she was recast on the spot.))

In Los Angeles or New York, if you’re trying to cast a day player in their 20s (say, a car wash attendant), it’s easy. You’ve got thousands of people to choose from. Even if you need a specific characteristic — say, Russian-speaking — you’re going to have great candidates.

But what if you need an intimidating Chinese woman in her 60’s? Or a really, really old man you can believe is from Nigeria?

Well, you hope they’re out there. And increasingly, they’re not. (At least, according to this showrunner, and two others who concurred.)

So what’s going on?

At the risk of getting [Freakonomics](http://freakonomics.com), it appears there’s a point at which it’s not economically viable to remain a day player.

Consider the career arc of an actor. In one’s 20s, almost anyone can afford to be an actor, by waiting tables or doing other piecemeal work in order to buy ramen and pay for headshots. At some point in one’s 30s, that lifestyle becomes less possible. Actors get married, have kids, or have other responsibilities that require a more steady paycheck. Which means getting a traditional job. At a certain point, you find many actors have become plumbers or teachers or dog trainers just to keep their kids in school and family in health insurance. ((Obviously, you could substitute “screenwriter” for actor in this thought experiment. But it’s not a perfect analogy. For instance, an actor can’t work on spec.))

Luckily, there are some actors who are able to remain actors because they book just enough jobs each year. They’re not making much — probably scale — but it’s enough to keep them working in their craft. These actors have a sense of how many days of work they need to book in order to stay solvent.

So consider our Chinese woman in her 60’s. If she works a certain number of days each year, it makes sense to continue acting and living in Los Angeles. If not, she might as well move to Tucson, where it’s cheaper and closer to her grandkids.

The showrunner told me that the studios are increasingly insisting that producers shoot out day player roles in fewer days, in order to save money. Episode-by-episode, this makes sense; why spend more than you have to? But in pinching pennies, the system may be squeezing out the actors it needs. And you really notice it in groups in which you didn’t have a lot of actors to choose from in the first place, such as minorities. If you write a role for a woman in her 60’s, and race doesn’t matter, you can cast anyone, including the Chinese woman. But if you write a role for a bossy Chinese grandmother, you really need that actress in town and available.

If you look at any one actor getting economically forced out of the craft, oh well. Sad story, but Hollywood’s full of ’em. But when you apply that loss across a swath of your talent pool, suddenly it’s impossible to find that African man in his 80’s you need for your episode. So you’re stuck rewriting it for a white guy, or a younger guy. The product suffers, and TV gets a little more white and boring.

I bring up this anecdote because it’s the kind of issue you really wish the industry was addressing in their ongoing negotiations with the actors’ unions, but they’re not. Instead, we get a three-way shoving match.

Anticipating the first dozen comments on this thread:

* Please don’t send your Chinese grandmother’s headshot. I’m sure she’s a terrific actress, but the example above was purely illustrative.
* I’m not claiming this situation is causing a lack of diversity in television, but it makes it harder to combat. As writers, we can create rich, multi-ethnic worlds. But if we can’t find actors for those roles, it’s all for naught.
* Obviously, the same economic pressures apply to plain old white actors as well. But there are more of them to begin with, so you don’t notice their absence as quickly or as acutely.
* You don’t notice the problem as much in features because there’s so much more time to do casting, and (generally) more money.
* I don’t have a solution to the situation, but it’s almost certainly not DVD residuals. Bumping up scale minimums will help, but only to a degree.
* We can’t conflate raw numbers with talent. When a showrunner and her casting directors are pulling out their hair because they can’t find a Pacific Islander for a part, it’s not because there are no actors in that category. There may simply be none with the chops to pull it off. Doubt me if you want, but 95% of Americans could not convincingly say four lines of dialogue on Law & Order. It’s tougher than it looks.