John August

QandA

Please state your purpose

Education, QandA

questionmarkI’m in the middle of applications for USC and UCLA, where I hope to get an MFA in screenwriting.

Any tips on writing the ultimate statement of purpose? Also, what kind of references play well? Should I get industry types or not — I have a couple of contacts in L.A.

I notice you went to USC. Was it very expensive?

— Matt
London

Last question first: yes. Film school is and was expensive. In my case, it was definitely worth it, but for every film school grad who’s making a living at it, there are probably three who aren’t. It’s certainly not like an MBA, where you’re pretty much guaranteed to get some kind of decent job at the end.

I was tempted to dig back through the archives (which are probably on floppy disk) to find my original application letter for the [Peter Stark Producing Program at USC](http://www-cntv.usc.edu/academic_programs/stark_program/academic-stark-home.cfm). Laziness trumped temptation, and I didn’t. But here’s my recollection of my “statement of purpose”:

I want to learn about the film industry in a comprehensive way, everything from loading a camera to analyzing a marketing plan. In specific, I’m curious to learn how the industry learns from its successes and failures, both critically and commercially.

My letters of recommendation came from a journalism professor and a marketing professor at Drake, and a film instructor I’d had for a summer program at Stanford. I think if you have a film-related reference, use it. But make sure at least one of your references is someone who knows you well and can really speak to your unique strengths with specific examples. To me, there’s nothing worse than a hollow, generic letter of recommendation from someone who seems to be a near-stranger.

For USC requirements, I also had to take the GRE exam. Apparently, the Stark program doesn’t really care about the scores, but I’ll gloat and say I did well. I really miss standardized tests.

The Stark program didn’t ask for a writing sample, so I didn’t need to send in anything for that. What’s weird to realize is that back then, I really didn’t know what screenwriting was.

[How to get into film school](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2005/how-to-get-into-film-school)
[Is film school necessary?](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2003/is-film-school-necessary)

Which agent should I choose?

Film Industry, QandA

questionmarkI have the opportunity to sign with one of two agents: one deals strictly with screenplays and supposively has good connections and the other seems to be more geared towards novel and book authors but has several screenwriter clients.

The first one doesn’t seem all that interested and seems to just want to have me signed on should lightning strike but the second one seems very enthusiastic about working with me. Both have offered me contracts but the kicker is, neither is in L.A. or New York. Should I sign with either and if so, if you were in my shoes, which one would you prefer?

Thanks for the site and thanks for much inspiration.

— Brad R.
Orchard Park, NY

Tell each agent you’d like to speak with two of their clients. Just a phone call. If they’re real, above-board agents, they won’t have a problem with this. I’ve spoken with potential clients on behalf of my agent several times, and it’s no great hardship.

When you talk with these writers, here’s what you want to know:

1. How quickly does the agent return phone calls?
2. What meetings has the agent set up for you?
3. Have you sold anything? Been hired on any projects?
4. On a scale of 1-10, how satisfied are you with this agent?

I suspect Agent #2 will score better on these criteria. The fact that he/she doesn’t live in Los Angeles, and isn’t exclusively a screenwriting agent, are certainly big minuses. However, enthusiasm gets you a lot. If you think Agent #2 passionately believes in your talent, go for it.

And now for the standard disclaimer: You are still responsible for your career. Signing with an agent guarantees you nothing. You will need to hunt out work, develop pitches, and generally scramble until you get your first few jobs. Your agent can help point you to the lake; you have to catch the fish yourself.

How to Rewrite

Writing Process

Over the weekend, my friend [Rawson](http://imdb.com/name/nm1098493/maindetails) came to visit the bambina, and we talked about the script he’s writing. He said he was about to start his next draft, which was mostly character tweaks. He was unsure how to go about it.

I said, “Decide out what you want to accomplish, then figure out which scenes would need to change.”

He seemed to think that was pretty good advice. And the more I thought about it, the more I agreed.

The biggest problem with most rewrites is that you start at page one, which is already probably the best-written page in the script. You tweak as you go, page after page, moving commas and enjoying your cleverness — all the while forgetting why you’re rewriting the script.

Instead, you need to stop thinking of words and pages, and focus on goals. Are you trying to increase the rivalry between Helen and Chip? Then look through the script — actual printed script, not the one on screen — and find the scenes with Helen and Chip. Figure out what could be changed in those scenes to meet your objectives. Then look for other scenes that help support the idea. Scribble on the paper. Scratch out lines. Write new ones.

Then move on to your next goal. And your next one.

At first, this “checklist” approach to rewriting probably won’t feel organic. It doesn’t have the same flow as writing the first draft. But fixing your script isn’t that different than fixing your car. If the stereo was busted, you wouldn’t start at the tailpipe and work your way forward until you got to the dashboard. You’d rip out the stereo, figure out what was wrong, and replace it if you couldn’t get it working. Then you’d do the same for the headlights, the shocks, and the windshield wipers. A car is a car, and a script is a script. But they’re both made of lots of little pieces, and you can only fix one piece at a time.

And scripts are much better than cars. If you don’t know what you’re doing when you try to fix your car, you might be stuck taking the bus. With a screenplay, you always have the old version saved on disk. So roll up your sleeves and get to it. Don’t let the fear of screwing up keep you from starting.

Welcome to the O.C., bitch

Formatting, QandA

questionmarkWhen you have a character talking on the phone who is not in the scene that the audience is watching (e.g. Bill is in a phone booth talking to Jim who we only hear but never see) — do you use (O.S.) or (O.C.) or something else?

— RMT
Los Angeles

I would use O.S., which means “off screen.” I think the distinction is supposed to be that O.C. (“off camera”) applies when the speaker is physically in the same space as the person he’s talking to, but just not on camera, while O.S. is when speaker and listener are in different places.

Your case is definitely the latter. It would look like this:

Bill holds up a one-sec finger while he answers the payphone.

BILL

Ni hao.

JIM (O.S.)

Where the hell are you? He’s waking up, and I’m out of demerol.

I don’t think the distinction between the two terms is all that useful. In fact, I never use O.C., even in situations where it would probably apply — I just use O.S., and no one is ever confused.

I can’t say for certain what my aversion to O.C. is. It may be that on a subconscious level, I know that the “C.” stands for “camera,” and I try to never refer to the camera itself. I think it takes the reader out of the story, reminding them that what they’re reading is just a script.

However, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with O.C. — most readers will know what it means. So if it floats your boat, by all means use it in appropriate situations. Which does not include this one.