John August

Psych 101

Are writing groups a good idea?

Psych 101, QandA, Writing Process

questionmarkI was wondering if you have ever had any experience with writing groups. I know it’s good to network and build more of a community of contacts, but in your experience, can they improve your writing? Do you think they can be advantageous? Or do you just end up getting ever more sets of conflicting notes?

— Jack
Burbank

I’ve never been in an official writing group, but I did rely on an informal circle of writer friends for my first few years after film school, getting feedback, suggestions and a healthy amount of peer pressure. Reading other people’s writing — even bad writing — makes you think more about the words you put on the page, so it can be a worthwhile exercise even if the notes you get back on your script are less than ideal.

I’d recommend finding people who are interested in doing the same general kinds of movies. If most of you want to write comedies, the woman writing the drama about a girl’s troubled relationship with her alcoholic father is going to be a drag on the group. Likewise, if most of the writers in the group have emotion-laden scripts, your hilarious spec about a farting monkey won’t get much love.

Another suggestion: Accept and embrace that the group won’t hold together long. People will flake out, drop out or move on. In fact, it might be a good idea to put an expiration date on the group at the start: “We’ll be meeting every Monday for the next six weeks. That’s it.”

When writing teams break up

Psych 101, QandA, Rights and Copyright

questionmarkI recently parted ways with a writing partner, and while untangling the issue of who gets to keep what material, a nagging issue has surfaced, to which I cannot find a satisfactory answer.

I decided I wanted to go ahead and complete a script we had both outline, but the premise of which was his. I contacted him, and after discussion, I changed my mind. However, I decided to use only a single character from the script we had outline (and only the basic character outline, such as “prison guard” or “starship captain.” I devised an entirely new premise, dependent not all upon his initial story.

My ex-partner informed me I could not use such a character in my piece without some type of concession on his behalf. Is this true?

— Anthony
Eagle Rock

It’s “true” in the sense that he won’t be satisfied. Both of you think that something about this character has value, even though it’s purely speculative at this point.

Without knowing the specifics — and both sides of the story — I can’t offer any strong opinions on the legal or ethical issues involved here. But from a practical perspective, if you try to write this story that has some connection to the work you did together, you’re going to be dealing with this pissed-off person (or the chance this pissed-off person will reappear) for a long time.

My advice: Figure out what it is about this story/character/world that intrigues you. Then come up with something wholly your own that scratches the same itch. Maybe you think you’ve done that with your new story, but you wouldn’t be writing in if that were the case.

Which project should I write?

Dead Projects, Psych 101, QandA, The Nines, The Remnants

questionmarkI know you have addressed this type of question to a certain extent, but I was left wanting more of an explanation that I hope you can provide. I have four ideas in my head for four different stories. When I start working on one, I think I am making a mistake and I should concentrate on another one. I will then switch and after a little bit of time, I feel the same way that made me move to this story. When you have multiple ideas and aren’t certain which idea is the right one to focus on, how do you resolve that?

— kaz

This will never end. It will continue to be a problem as long as you write. I’m certain that Stephen King, even after umpteen books, wrestles with this problem. In fact, his prolificacy might be a coping strategy; rather than decide which thing to write, he just writes them all.

At this moment, there are no less than fifteen projects competing for brainshare in my head. Five of these are things I’m contracted to write, while the other ten or so are old ideas, recent ideas or things that just occurred to me as I walked up the stairs to my office.

So which projects do I write?

Well, I should write the ones that I’m being paid to write, and more specifically, I should work on the one that is next due. So I spend the bulk of my writing time on the project with the nearest deadline. Honestly, that may not be the project that excites me the most at any given moment. But I’m getting paid to do my craft, so I’m certainly not going to complain.

But what about those other projects, the ones I’m not currently writing?

They’re battling it out in my subconscious, each trying to get my attention long enough that I’ll recognize how worthy it is. Sometimes they’ll even gang up on me: The Nines was three separate ideas that conspired to fit together.

INT. JOHN’S BRAIN – DAY

PRISONER STORY

We’re sort of about the same thing. The difference between an actor and a creator.

HOLLYWOOD STORY

You’re right!

SPOOKY STORY

Hey guys, what are you talking about?

PRISONER STORY

We’re trying to get John’s attention.

HOLLYWOOD STORY

You’re new, right?

SPOOKY STORY

I’m a pilot!

PRISONER STORY

John’s not doing TV.

SPOOKY STORY

He might.

PRISONER STORY

He won’t. Go away.

HOLLYWOOD STORY

Wait! Wait! What if the pilot that they’re shooting in my story is actually Spooky Story?

PRISONER STORY

John likes things in threes. Like Go.

SPOOKY STORY

And what if...

(reeling with excitement)

What if your main character was my main character and also your main character? And we know that because they’re all the same actor.

HOLLYWOOD STORY

Dude.

PRISONER STORY

Quick! Get him while he’s in the shower!

Some “old” ideas get written this way. Others simply recede so far back they’re nearly forgotten. That’s okay. You’re not going to become best friends with every nice person you meet. You’re not going to write every good idea you have.

In some cases, simple timing makes a new project suddenly possible. For the Alaska pilot, I pitched it to the network within a week of having the idea. The Remnants was possible only because the WGA strike meant I couldn’t work on any of my “real” stuff.

If you have four ideas, all equally viable, I’d recommend writing the one that has the best ending. That’s the one you’ve thought through the most, and the one you’re least likely to abandon midway. But whatever you do, just pick one and write it without delay. If you have great ideas for your other projects, absolutely take some notes, but don’t switch. Finish what you’re doing, or you’ll have a folder full of first acts.

Nice to meet you. Again. Maybe.

Film Industry, Psych 101, QandA

questionmarkLet’s say I’m a development exec and I’m going into a meeting with a writer (a big, successful one) whom I’ve met before — but it was a brief conversation and it was ten years ago, possibly longer.

When the writer says, “Nice to meet you,” I shouldn’t say, “We’ve actually met before, but it was a brief conversation and it was ten years ago,” should I? I should just act like we haven’t met before, right?

Or would the writer be flattered that I’d remember the conversation and was excited to have it, since the writer is a big deal? Which is the truth?

— Anonymous

Okay: It’s entirely possible that I was the writer who didn’t remember you. I’m sorry. We’ll get to why it happens (The Kevin Williamson Problem) in a second. Let’s solve your issue first.

In the situation you present, there’s generally a way to point out history without making too big a deal out of it.

WRITER

Nice to meet you.

EXEC

You probably don’t remember, but I met you years ago on that Goblin Bikers project at Cinergi.

WRITER

Wow. Whatever happened to Cinergi?

...and so on.

It’s for exactly this reason that I’ve gotten in the habit of saying “Hi” or “Hello” instead of the default “Nice to meet you.” And I don’t end a meeting with that phrase either. “Great talking with you” or a simple “Thanks” does the trick.

But why does it happen in the first place? Are writers such social abominations that they can’t even remember who they’ve met before?

No. And the perfect person to illustrate this fact is another screenwriter.

The Kevin Williamson Problem
====

I’ve named this phenomenon in honor of Kevin Williamson, a screenwriter who is now a friend, but who for many years was the guy who couldn’t remember that he’d met me. We would be introduced by a mutual acquaintance, and he’d go right to “Nice to meet you.” Nevermind that we’d met three times before. Nevermind that we had shared interests, friends and connections (such as Katie Holmes). He was perfectly nice to talk with, but I sensed that every time I walked away the slate was wiped clean.

What a jerk.

Except of course, he wasn’t. He’s a nice guy. The problem was the complete disparity in our rememberability. The fair question wasn’t, “Why can’t Kevin Williamson remember me?” It was, “Why can I remember Kevin Williamson?”

Simple: When I met Kevin Williamson, I already knew who he was. He had movies in theaters and a show on TV. He had profiles in EW. So the first time I shook his hand, I knew a lot about him, and had already formed opinions. Again, *I knew him before I met him.*

The first time he met me, I was a brand new person. So after a brief conversation, he was no more likely to remember me than any other cocktail party guest.

I understand this because I now suffer from the Kevin Williamson Problem all the time. Among the tiny subset of people who pay attention to screenwriters, I’m “famous” enough that [strangers sometimes recognize me](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2006/are-you-somebody). This is odd. And even when I enter a conversation heretofore anonymous, the projects I’ve written get attached to me: *He’s the guy who wrote that Willy Wonka movie*. So, after a brief conversation, I’m more likely to be remembered than do the remembering.

In the situation presented, you as a development executive have had the chance to see this writer’s name in the trades for years. You’ve had a lot of memory reinforcement. He hasn’t. So it would be pretty remarkable if he remembered you. Therefore, it’s smart of you to provide a lot of context and no implied request for apology.

They grow so fast, don’t they?
=====
A related situation I’ve been grappling with is how many new people I’m expected to remember now that my daughter is in preschool. It’s not just the fifteen kids in her class; it’s all of their parents, and siblings. A weekend birthday party can mean 45 names I’m suddenly supposed to be able to recall. Is Daphne Kate’s mom, or is Kate Daphne’s mom? Add in bouncy houses and screaming, and the name buffer quickly overflows.

Luckily, there’s cake.