Behind the Velvet Curtain

The mission of my script consultation service is not just to help writers build better screenplays but to also help writers built actual careers. That means using my web site and writers’ sessions to impart pragmatic, usable advice based on the reality of the entertainment industry and how movies actually get made.

All too often, I come across aspiring writers with very unrealistic notions of how screenplays get produced into the movies that we end up seeing in cinemas. They tend to think that if they write that one “perfect,” “sellable” script that it will get passed through the upper ranks of Hollywood and make them into a screenwriting superstar overnight. There is then a further fantasy that once you get to a certain point in your career – the point where you’re getting paid for your writing – that everything is set and you no longer have to carefully weigh choices such as financial security versus creative vision. It’s a fantasy that leads people into thinking that they can somehow bypass the years of hard work and frightening risks that often come with pursuing a dream in this industry.

This kind of magical thinking can actually have dangerous consequences for the writers that entertain them. I had one client with major health issues who was putting off going to the hospital because she believed that she would sell her first script within the year and would have all her treatments covered under Writers’ Guild health insurance. I had another client who was going to move his kids to Los Angeles with almost no savings, no job prospects and no residence lined up before their arrival.

These are extreme examples, to be sure, but there is a more pervasive danger that falls outside the realm of physical/financial welfare – and that’s creative welfare. Your drive to write and make movies is precious. If you put all your faith and hard work in the hands of an unrealistic game plan, then you’re gambling with your creative impulses. It’s basically as if you’re setting yourself up to fail and then somehow taking that failure as a sign from the universe of powers-that-be that you don’t have what it takes to make it.

That is not to say lucky breaks don’t happen. They do. Especially in LA. But to plan for a lucky break is the equivalent of planning to win the lottery as part of your financial future (and then beating yourself up for not hitting the jackpot). It’s just not common sense.

I don’t blame writers for this trend of magical thinking. A lot of it is perpetuated by the witting and unwitting falsehoods of the “how-to” screenwriting industry. Many expos, pitch fests, consultation sites and seminars make it seem as if there is that one piece of Hollywood wisdom or that one lucky break that hurtles someone to success. They don’t usually come out and say, “we can make your career overnight” but they offer just enough of a hint of it to get writers to fork over money (sometimes a lot of money) for the opportunity. This is not to say that these venues don’t have real merit – it can be a great way to network, to gain experience before you enter the “big leagues,” to get feedback and to get valuable information (plus, you never know how one connection made early on might end up serving you down the line) – but there is a world of difference between expecting your first script to blast open all the doors to the A-list studios and the more realistic expectation of taking those first few steps in what will most likely be a slow, sure, steady climb toward success.

I want to pull back the velvet curtain and present you with an evenhanded picture of what it means to build and sustain a career in the entertainment industry. What better way to prepare for the ups, the downs, the victories, the frustrations, the exhilaration and the worry of a Hollywood career than to start now as you sit in your living room dreaming of everything that may come your way. The more you can start practicing realism and clarity in the present moment, the more primed you will be to gracefully navigate all the successes coming down the turnpike, to build a career that will satisfy your personal balance between financial security, creative satisfaction and overall happiness.

In other words:

I don’t want to sell you a pipe dream.

I don’t want to make money off your unrealistic expectations.

I want you to realistically, responsibly pursue your career so that your talent has a real shot at getting through the door.

And, most of all, I want you to write a great screenplay so that we can collectively change the way movies get made.