John August

QandA

How do you become successful?

Education, Film Industry, QandA

questionmarkI’m currently a grad student at USC film school. Your site was a great help to me in learning how to write screenplays, then applying to and getting into USC.

From the class that graduated with you, either from Stark, production, or writing programs, what percentage in your estimation have gone on to success in the industry? What traits defined those who did from those who didn’t?

And if you post this question, please sign me as…

— Rosebud
Los Angeles

“Success” is a pretty hard term to define when looking at a career.

What’s the measure? Money, credits, awards — or some sort of internal satisfaction index? And perhaps more importantly, what’s the time frame? While some grads are directing $100 million blockbusters within years of graduating, most are happy to keep continuously employed.

Probably the best measure of “making it” is to look at people five years after graduation and see if they’re still working in the industry. Yes, Kathy may have arrived at USC looking to direct, but if she’s now an editor on 24, I’d say she’s doing well. Likewise, Dan may have applied to the Stark program hoping to produce the next Schindler’s List, but now he’s an executive at Warner Bros. So he might still make big Oscar-winning movies, but they won’t have his name on them.

By this metric, from my Stark class of 25 students, more than half are still working in the industry. Some run studios; some run TV shows; some run interference for directors. We were unusally successful right out of the gate,Michael Cieply wrote a lengthy piece about our class (1994) for the New York Times. but I think there are some general lessons to distill:

1. __You’re not entitled to anything.__ A film degree is basically worthless. You won’t get recruited, and no one will ever ask to see it.I have no idea where my degree is at this moment. An MBA from USC gets you a $100,000 starting salary. A film degree from USC might get you an unpaid internship. All you get out of it is the education, so make sure you’re learning every second of the day.
2. __It’s about the story.__ No matter whether it’s film, TV, or a 30-second spot, the ability to convey a compelling story in whatever medium is crucial. A director’s reel can have the slickest shots imaginable, but funny comedy or compelling drama is more likely to get him his next job.
3. __Everyone climbs the ladder together.__ A common misconception is that you need to make friends with people a few steps ahead of you. No. You need a lot of friends doing what you’re doing, and you need to help each other out — with information, with advice, and with manpower while they’re making their sixth short film.
4. __Ask questions.__ Film school isn’t like other schools. There aren’t many textbooks or exams. Instead, you have smart people who know things, and it’s your job to get the answers you need. Stark has dozens of guest speakers each semester. At first, we’d just ask polite questions about their jobs and the industry. But soon we were asking, “So, what is your life really like? Do you ever see your family? Is it worth it?”
5. __Make your own luck.__ Sometimes, magic happens and Spielberg likes your wacky short film. But that can’t happen if you didn’t make it in the first place, and the seven others no one saw. You never know which script, which lunch, which random idea is going to be important. So treat them all as important.
6. __It’s not Wall Street.__ While it seems glamorous and lucrative, if you’re coming to the film industry looking to get rich, you’re wasting your time. While you can get rich, the odds are a lot slimmer than almost any other industry a smart person could choose to work in.

Pushed for a number, I’d guess 30-40% of USC film school grads are actively working in the industry. The people from my program who aren’t are by no means unsuccessful. They each found other careers which suited them — though sometimes, that wasn’t by choice. Hollywood isn’t a perfect meritocracy. Really great people get overlooked, or find their stepping stones sinking into bankruptcy just as everything seems to be coming together. It sucks. Success and circumstance are deeply entangled.

But if you, Rosebud, find your own criteria for what you want to do, and better yet, plan for how you’re going to do it, I don’t think those percentages really apply. If you start each day of school and life with the question, “How am I going to get closer to my goal of…” then you’re unlikely to end up outside looking in.

TV in movies

How-To, Words on the page

I just finished writing a scene where a television news report was playing in the background and it reminded me how hard it is to get these moments right. Unless you’re literally having the characters stare at the TV set, you’re basically dividing the audience’s attention between two planes of information. If you don’t do it carefully, the audience won’t know where to look, and the scene will be a disaster.

Off the top of my head, here are four (hopefully) helpful guidelines:

1. __The TV can only tell you one thing.__ It can say the big snowstorm is coming, but it can’t also say that mobster Carmine DeSomethingorother has escaped from custody.

2. __Use the naturally empty moments of the scene.__ If there’s information that’s important for the audience, but not necessarily the characters, start on the TV and let the characters enter the scene where it’s playing. If a character’s waiting on hold, or is looking for dijon mustard in the fridge, that’s another moment you could cut to the TV.

3. __Get the rhythm right.__ TV news in particular has a cadence, and you can’t just shove your exposition in to make it fit. Always think how the reporter would actually report the story and balance his goals with your goals.

4. __Don’t make it too convenient.__ Don’t have a character flip on the TV, only to find exactly the story about them — unless it really is reasonable that there’s 24-hour coverage about the situation. Perhaps the only thing worse than this cliché is when a character rushes in, saying, “You’ve got to see this!” before grabbing the remote.

On the whole though, it’s amazing how little television people watch in movies as opposed to real life.

Writer/Directors and Co-Ops

Film Industry, News

This weekend brought two stories of interest to screenwriters, particularly those of the Hollywood bent.

The first was [Rachel Abramowitz’s article](http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/business/la-ca-writers18mar18,1,5043214.story?ctrack=1&cset=true) in the LA Times about the recent batch of screenwriters-turned-directors, which included bits about Scott Frank, Mike White, and Charlie Kaufman, among others. I spoke to her about *The Nines*:

“Most of what I do never makes it to the screen,” he says, voicing a common lament. “I feel all this responsibility to those characters and these stories. They’re half alive. They’re trapped in 12-point Courier.”

“The Nines,” he says, deals with “the responsibility of a creator to his creations. You can look at it from a religious point of view. If you create this whole universe, are you responsible for making sure it sticks around?”

The second story comes from today’s Variety, in which Michael Fleming breaks the news of a new [“Writer’s Co-Op”](http://www.variety.com/article/VR1117961371.html?categoryid=13&cs=1) formed by writer/producer John Wells and others.

I’ve read the article three times, and many of the details aren’t clear. But here’s the basics: Nineteen established screenwriters are agreeing to cut their up-front fees in exchange for first-dollar gross on the projects that get made. In addition, the screenwriters would have additional controls over their material. The deal is set up at Warners; it’s unclear whether any other studios would match the terms.

Will it work? I hope so. While the Writers Guild plays a crucial role in enforcing minimum standards for payments and practices, I’ve long felt there was room for improvement at the top end of the feature screenwriting continuum. By banding together, big-name scribes can get more leverage.

Which leads to the awkward issue of which names are on that list of 19. Mine isn’t; I wasn’t asked.Insert whichever “wouldn’t join a club that would have me” rationalization you’d like. Did I feel a little slighted? Sure. Did the realization that other big names weren’t on the list comfort me? Yes. Is it awkward admitting this? Certainly. Readers might remember a similar-sounding agreement at Sony/Columbia several years back. I was part of that, and despite making several movies for the studio during the time, found that it never amounted to much.Word around the virtual water-cooler is that David Koepp likely made some money through the Sony deal, because his original Spider-Man grossed so much that the deal’s profit definition must have kicked in. For whatever reason, he’s not part of the Writers Co-Op deal. Many of the writers who were part of the Sony deal are participants in this new venture, so it will be interesting to see how it all shakes out.

Publicity 101

Big Fish, Charlie, Film Industry, Follow Up, News

Last night, the [Writers Guild Foundation](http://www.wgfoundation.org/) held a panel discussion about publicity. I was one of the panelists, but I ended up learning a fair amount myself.

For example, according to a Variety editor, it’s perfectly okay for a screenwriter to pick up the phone and call a writer at the trades when you’ve sold a project.Announcements like this run all the time (c.f. Shazam!). It has to be legit, of course. Optioning a script to your roommate, who is an aspiring producer-slash-drummer, doesn’t count. It’s strange: in this blog, I’m constantly telling aspiring screenwriters to stop asking for permission and just do what they want to do. But I honestly wouldn’t be ballsy enough to call an unknown writer at the trades to do this.

Chris Day, who runs publicity for my agency (UTA) brought with him a memo I’d written in the Big Fish era. At his suggestion, I was meeting with publicists, and had listed my goals and messages.I was an advertising major, so this kind of publicity-speak comes naturally. I promised attendees at the panel that I would find the original memo and post a .pdf of it. So here it is: [Big Fish publicity goals](http://johnaugust.com/Assets/pub_goals.pdf).

One of the questions that came from the audience–but probably should have started out the evening–was, What is the point of publicity, exactly? Most of us aren’t looking to be famous per se, and unlike a novelist, our names alone aren’t going to be selling books.

The Writers Guild Foundation stresses that any time a screenwriter gets press, that helps all screenwriters. And to some degree, that’s true. [There are no famous screenwriters](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2006/are-you-somebody), but it would be nice if the general public had some sense that movies are actually written, and that the actors aren’t making up their dialogue.

But I’d say the main reason to think about publicity is to help the movies and TV shows you’re involved with. The screenwriter tends to know more about the story than anyone else on the project, so you can be a crucial resource as journalists figure out how to write about the plot. I’ve attended a half-dozen junkets, and have rarely seen myself directly quoted. But I recognize a lot of what I’ve said in the stories that are written. If I can help create a consistent, positive message, then I’ve done my job.

The other reason to think about publicity is in terms of your overall career. I have no doubt that I’ve gotten meetings with certain directors and actors because of repeated exposure to my name. It’s nice if someone likes Big Fish. It’s even better if they remember I wrote it. Every time a news story includes the phrase, “…August, whose credits include Big Fish, Corpse Bride and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory…” that’s like refreshing the cache on someone’s internal IMDb.