John August

Psych 101

Do I need a caveat?

Pitches, Psych 101, QandA

questionmarkMy question is simple, albeit mildly existential. I recently completed a spec — a raunchy, R-rated, Apatow-esque comedy — that a mother couldn’t love. Even mine. Think “Something About Mary” and you’ll begin to get the picture.

Of course, buried in the premise, there’s a sweet love story and all that jazz, but it’s pretty crass stuff, replete with humor that, if taken the wrong way, could easily offend. Naturally, as an aspiring writer, I don’t want agents and the like to think: “Man, that Evan sure is homophobic and likes to talk about Mormon orgies.” Is there a way to address this in a query letter? Pitch meeting? Or should I just assume everyone will understand writers don’t necessarily create characters that they agree with?

— Evan
Los Angeles

Don’t stress over it. Hollywood folk are savvy enough to realize that actors who play serial killers aren’t themselves dangerous, and that the guys who wrote Saw aren’t any sicker than most screenwriters.

In a query letter, don’t back away from your premise or your big moments. If you wrote raunchy, let them know it’s raunchy. In a pitch meeting, there will be plenty of time to establish that you’re a normal human being without gay Mormon issues. And if they like your idea, they won’t care one way or the other.

Rewriting the rewriter

Charlie's Angels, Directors, Film Industry, Projects, Psych 101, QandA

questionmarkHow often do original screenwriters, who’ve been rewritten by other fellows, get hired back onto their original scripts? Does it matter if the script is revving up to go into production? I’ve heard of a few other guys like Josh Friedman (Chain Reaction) and Michael Arndt (Little Miss Sunshine) hopping back on, but are they the exception or the rule?

— Lewis

It’s not uncommon. I was on and off both Charlie’s Angels movies several times, and I can think of at least half a dozen other cases where the original writers came back in before (or during) production.

In order to understand why the original writers are sometimes rehired, you have to understand why they leave projects. Sometimes, it’s simple availability: at a crucial moment during development of the first Charlie’s Angels, I was shooting a series in Toronto, so someone else got the gig (a long string of someone elses, as it turned out). In other cases, a new element (director, producer, star) wants to take the script in a new direction, which generally means a new writer — often someone they’ve worked with before.

You’re not always fired, and it’s not always acrimonious. That’s important to understand. The screenwriter wants the movie made, and wants to maintain relationships with the filmmakers and the studio. So it behooves everyone to make sure the original writer is at least peripherally involved, even if he’s no longer the active writer on the project.

The original writer might get asked back for several reasons. The simplest is cost: she may be willing to do a lot of piece work essentially for free because it’s her movie. But more often there is something about the original writer’s voice or vision that remains important despite subsequent revisions, and the producers (or director, or stars) recognize this. So she comes back in to make the new stuff feel like her stuff, and let it read like one movie rather than a patchwork.

Your first time

Psych 101

On a panel discussion with Shauna Cross and Lawrence Kasdan (!) today, I made a point about first screenplays:

Your first script is like the first time you have sex. Yes, it’s exciting. You did it! High five!

But that’s not the best sex you’re ever going to have. In fact, it would be sad if it were.

In all likelihood, your first time was rushed and awkward, with some great moments but a lot of room for improvement. And the odds that your first experience will blossom into something life-defining are slim. So take it for what it is: a beginning. You will get better at it.

A mistake way too many screenwriters make is assuming that the first thing they write is The One. The One that will get them noticed. The One that will sell. The One that will transform their lives.

The fact is, there is no One. I can’t tell you what mine would be. The one that got me an agent? The one that got made? The one that Spielberg liked? Those are all different scripts, written years apart. I went from sleeping on the floor of my apartment to owning a house, but none of them changed my life in the way people would expect. Mostly, I just got a lot busier. It was less about the script, and more about the work.

Screenwriting is a career of continuous effort marked by occasional highlights, not unlike trial law or professional football: a single case or game might be notable, but it’s what you do on a daily basis that determines your overall success. ((Even looking through credits on IMDb is misleading, because the movies that get made are a small percentage of what a screenwriter actually produces. I’ve written 27 screenplays, eight of which are movies with my name on them. And only three of them predate my first produced film, Go.)) And, like trial law and professional football, you may discover that you’re just not cut out for it. But you need to approach screenwriting with the same perspective as a lawyer or linebacker. Expect it to be very hard work, with long hours and continuous setbacks.

And in that aspect, the screenwriting/sex comparison fails, because if your lovemaking is hard work with continuous setbacks, you’re probably doing it wrong.

Shouldn’t I get credit for the outline?

Film Industry, Psych 101, QandA, Rights and Copyright

questionmarkI work for a small European film company. On one project-in-development (based on historical events and characters), my boss verbally outlined the story of the entire screenplay while I took notes. I then went away and wrote a 35 page detailed outline based on her verbal instructions and incorporating my own much more detailed descriptions, scene settings, character nuances and several ideas.

The treatment was written mostly out of office hours and on my own personal computer without overtime pay. My boss didn’t write a word. The treatment was always intended to be sent to a more experienced screenplay writer, and I was always happy with this. I never had a special contract for this project (nor do I have any contract with this company), doing the work in good faith and expecting at the very least my name would remain on the treatment.

However, the treatment is about to be sent to the screenplay writer and I’ve noticed today that my ‘treatment written by’ has been taken off the treatment and my boss has left her name only with ‘story by’. When I asked about this I was told that it was not my film. I spent a huge amount of time on this and am quite upset, mostly by the blatant disregard for my work.

In this situation do I have copyright in the project? Should I insist on having my name included on the treatment and should I get any credit on the eventual film?

— Marley
London, UK

Not only am I not a lawyer, I’m not a British lawyer specializing in copyright. So my advice here isn’t as counsel, and shouldn’t be considered as part of any legal claim whatsoever.

That said, don’t pursue it. As frustrating as this is right now, you have the opportunity to learn from it. And so do the people reading your question.

Let me break down your statement into smaller chunks:

1. You’re employed by a film company in some sort of production executive or assistant role.
2. Your company is developing a project based on historical (and presumably public domain) material.
3. Your boss instructed you to take notes as she pitched the entire plot of the movie based on that material.
4. You wrote up this pitch as an outline, embellished with your own details. (It’s unclear whether you were instructed to embellish, or if you did this on your own.)
5. The result, a 35-page document, was sent to a screenwriter.
6. As sent to the screenwriter, that document did not have your name on it.

Let’s start from the top. You’re employed by a film company. Depending on British laws, anything you write on behalf of the company may be their property, just as a spreadsheet an accountant creates for a paper company is owned by the company. Again, I don’t know the specifics of how it works in the U.K., but in the U.S., this would certainly be a factor in any copyright claim. Writing the outline after hours on your own computer is unlikely to matter, since you were writing it on behalf of the company.

Second, the property is based on public domain sources. If this were based on a novel the producer had optioned, I doubt you would be writing in with this question, because you would recognize that the story belongs to someone else. It’s partly because the source material is “out in the wild” that you feel ownership to your creation.

In this case, the story belongs to the producer. You say she verbally outlined the story of the entire screenplay. So I ask you: if she had tape-recorded her pitch and asked you to transcribe it verbatim, would you still feel the pangs of authorship? Probably not. You’d see yourself as a typist.

Which raises the question, At what point in the embellishment did the outline become “yours”?

That’s a tough question for you to answer, and even tougher for a judge or jury.

I have some sympathy for your boss upon being handed a 35-page outline. ((I’m using “outline” and “treatment” interchangeably. Treatments tend to be longer than outlines, but at this length, either term makes sense.)) Here is the movie she pitched you, but with changes she couldn’t have anticipated. It’s her story, but suddenly your name is on the cover, and it’s not at all clear whether the extra work is meant to impress her or grab credit from her.

To put it bluntly, are you a brown-noser or a back-stabber? An over-achiever or an underminer?

If I were in her place, I would sit you down and have an uncomfortable conversation about your job description and the difference between what you do and what a paid screenwriter does. Because imagine the scenario in which you suddenly came back with a 120-page screenplay. She would rightly be furious. You would have taken her story without permission.

Which leads us to the last point. The outline you wrote was sent to a screenwriter — for whom I also feel sympathy, because an outline at that level of detail feels like a straightjacket. But assuming the movie gets made (a big assumption), how would you hope to defend what pieces of the final product are “yours”? You wrote the outline following the instructions of your producer, so every element would come down to you-said, she-said.

Again, I’m only responding to the facts as you presented them. I understand why your feelings are hurt, but I think pursuing them further is a mistake legally and professionally. Writing up notes, outlines and beat sheets is part of a creative exec’s job description. And so is not getting credit when credit is due.

When I was in film school, the president of production for Warner Bros. came in to talk about his job. He said that his buddies back home would see his movies and always ask, “Why isn’t your name on it?”

“I’m the shield,” he would reply, referring to the Warner Bros. logo.

And that’s where you’re at, Marley. Your credit is the production company billing on the movie. If that’s not enough, take it as incentive to write or produce your own movies that will carry your name.