John August

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How to write on the spine of a script

Film Industry

Back in my ramen days as a young screenwriter, I used to marvel at colleagues’ script libraries, shelves of brass-bradded screenplays generally organized by writer. They were a status symbol. “Oh, you haven’t read POINT BREAK?” they would ask, finger hovering by the title. “You know James Cameron did a rewrite.”

Screenplays were a physical *thing* to be borrowed and traded and photocopied. Moving from one apartment to another — young Los Angelenos generally relocate annually — meant hauling file boxes of scripts. Reading meant heavy lifting.

Now, of course, in the age of iPads and .pdfs, printed scripts are much less important. A shelf full of old screenplays feels quaint, bordering on out-of-touch, much like boasting about one’s CD collection.

I’ll gladly take convenience over nostalgia.

Still, there are times you do need a printed script. For example, production drafts are increasingly only distributed on paper, in order to reduce the chance of leaking on the internet. Or you may have so many hand-written notes in a script that it’s important to retain the physical draft.

Based on some printed scripts I’ve seen recently, a related skill may be on verge of being lost forever: writing neatly on the spine of a script.

Here’s a quick tutorial.

1. Remove any brads or binder clips.
2. Hold the script by the top and bottom.
3. Slam it hard on its left edge. Do it twice or three times if you need to let out some steam. You want every page to be absolutely flush.
4. Put the script near the edge of the table.
5. Pushing down with your non-writing hand to keep the pages pressed firmly together, write the title on the edge with a Sharpie. Include date or draft if applicable.
6. Restore brads or clips.

YES:

proper spine writing

NO:

bad spine writing

If you’re pretty sure a script will go from your hands to the recycling bin, don’t bother labeling it. Any script that is going to be stacked, shelved or filed should be labelled on its spine.

Screenplays are now often printed two-sided, which means they’re half as thick as they used to be. That’s okay. Same technique still works — just write smaller.

Rewriting from a blank page?

QandA, Writing Process

questionmarkMy first script has been stagnating in the Hollywood ether for the past 18 months as director after director has turned it down. In the meantime, I’ve had success with several other scripts, and have now decided (along with my producer, who’s one of the top in the business), to try to re-tool the original, using everything I’ve learned in the past year — which is a lot.

Looking back, I now know why this script isn’t great — and, I also know that I can make it great. That said, when approaching a rewrite of your own work after some time away from it, would you just start with a blank page, and then do some merging of the versions if necessary; or, would you work with the original draft, cutting, adding scenes, adjusting dialogue, etc.? I’m tempted to start fresh, but I know the original script has some great stuff in it, and using it as a roadmap might be helpful. I just don’t want to limit my vision.

I’m reminded of Guillermo Arriaga who says that when he’s done writing a script he throws it out and then rewrites it, assuming that whatever was worthy in the first draft will certainly make its way into the second.

— Ben
NYC

The danger of writing a new draft on top of an existing draft is that you won’t change enough. You’ll scroll through, tweaking things and moving a few commas. You’ll be more of a reader than a writer.

Don’t let yourself off easy.

For minor work, I recommend starting on paper. Print out the script, then go through with a colored pen. Scratch out the scenes you’re cutting, scribble notes on what goes where. When you go back to your computer, *Save As…* with a new file name. Before you start rewriting, make your cuts and changes from your paper draft. You’ll end up with a bunch of little holes to fill, but that’s some of the easiest, most enjoyable work.

For a major overhaul, you’re better off starting from a blank page. If you’re a carder, [make cards](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2010/10-hints-for-index-cards). If you’re an outliner, write one. Try to ignore everything you’ve written — focus on what you’d like to have at the end.

Once you know what you’re trying to do, start writing the new script.

Write the new scenes and sequences first. When you get to a section where you plan keeping a version of what you wrote before, open the old file and copy out just that stuff. You may find that you like the new way you’re writing the script so much that you don’t even want to use what you had before. That’s okay.

I’m not fully on board with Guillermo Arriaga’s throw-it-all-out philosophy. ((If that’s really his practice; I’m taking your word on it.)) My first drafts are pretty great, and I never want to lose that initial instinct. Some scenes turn on a certain line of dialogue that only occurs to you once. Letting that slip away seems foolish.

A final piece of advice: Rewriting that first script rarely pans out. It’s probably great. It’s gotten you a lot of work. But it may never get made. In talking with screenwriter friends, very few of them had their first scripts produced, and they’re all working steadily today. Always remember that screenwriting is a career of writing many scripts, not just the one.

Three directors, no money for rent

Directors, Film Industry, QandA

questionmarkI have a good problem. Three of my scripts have found directors in the last two weeks, after about 18 months of development. But! I just lost my day job and my bank account is in dire straits.

Each director has given me comprehensive notes, enough to keep me working overtime if writing was my sole moneymaker. I want to show them what a quick, clean worker I am, but I also have to pay my bills, and eat. What the hell do I do?

— Ben
NYC

Most screenwriters are broke at some point. Better it happens at the start of your career than the end.

I had a gap between my last “real” job and my first paid screenwriting assignment. I watched what little money I had dribble away. I made a spreadsheet budget and figured I could make it two months. My mom helped pay my rent, and I made it five months until the first check came. During that time, I wasn’t going out a lot.

Cut your expenses as low as you can. Don’t buy Starbucks. Cook cheap things you can eat for a week. And cancel your cable — you’ll be too busy working to watch.

Desperation can be productive. You have a lot of incentive to work your ass off.

Don’t get evicted or ruin your credit. You probably have someone in your life who can loan you some money to see you through this stretch. Maybe it’s a parent. Maybe it’s a friend. So ask. Be honest about the good things that are happening, and the bad things.

How cool are the directors/producers you’re working with? If there’s one you really click with — and who doesn’t seem to be down to his last twenty — be candid about your situation and see if he’ll advance you some money. A director can’t get your best work if you’re fighting to stay afloat.

There’s no romance in being broke, and no shame either. Be smart and work through it.

Producers, managers and deals

Film Industry, QandA, WGA

questionmarkAfter a year of development with my managers/producers, my script just landed a director. But the “package” we’re putting together is still floating in the ether.

As we now enter another round of notes in an effort to find an actor for our film, I’m suddenly left with the real question of payment — when a studio eventually buys the script, package intact, how much can I hope to earn, and whom do I trust to negotiate the sale?

I have no agent at this point. My manager is very well-connected and on the up-and-up, but as he will take a producing credit for this film, I know he’s after his own interests as well as mine, and I want to make sure he’ll get me the highest possible paycheck for my efforts. Can I trust him to do so?

The line between manager and producer seems a blurry one. Assuming the film’s budget is around $15M and I’m a first-time writer, what can I expect?

— Lee
Los Angeles

Ready? The answer is $86,156.

That’s currently [WGA scale](http://wga.org/uploadedFiles/writers_resources/contracts/min2008.pdf) for an original screenplay. At $15 million, your movie would very likely be made for a company that’s a WGA signatory, and would fall in the “high” budget category. ((Movies with smaller budgets — and microbudgets — can be made under other WGA terms with different rates.)) All of the major studios are signatories, as are most of the production companies you’ve heard of. If you’re with one of these places, the least they can pay you is WGA scale, and you’re automatically a member of the guild. ((Some buyers have non-signatory divisions specifically to get around these requirements, enabling them to hire non-WGA writers for less. But if your producer-manager allows this to happen, he should be run out of town. Your director is probably DGA. Whatever actor you’re attaching will be SAG. You should be WGA.))

So that’s how much you should expect to earn. Should you hope to get more? Yes. And maybe you will, especially if you have multiple interested buyers. But I’d urge you to emotionally condition yourself for that number and be delighted with anything above it.

If a deal comes together quickly, use an entertainment attorney to negotiate on your behalf. You’re right to wonder whether what’s best for the producer-manager is necessarily best for you. It’s an uncomfortable conflict of interest at times. But your interests are absolutely aligned in one way: **you really, really want to get this movie made.** A slightly better offer from a place you don’t believe will make and distribute your movie isn’t a better offer at all.

Once your project starts getting attention — you sign an actor, some deals look possible — you’ll find it easier to start talking to agents. Your manager should be making introductions. Buyers and actors’ agents might have suggestions. Once you sign with an agent, he or she will start making deals on your behalf in concert with your manager and attorney. But it’s not an essential component right now.

It’s scary and exciting think about What Might Be, but far more important is the work in front of you.

Keep writing. I know far too many screenwriters who pinned all their hopes on one script that never quite found footing. The actual career is getting to paid to write, not selling specs.