25 august 1999
the big deal
two of them, in fact.
The quote of the day:
"Warren has won Oscars, he's married to Annette Bening, he has wealth, he has a legacy of shall we say? the good life. Why would he want to go to Washington now? All Presidents want to be Warren Beatty."
-- Alec Baldwin, on Warren Beatty running for President.


Doesn't take much to make me happy: I have been moaning to my friends and to anyone who will listen that I don't know what my next script will be. I've got a damn script in the Nicholl semifinals and people are going to want to read that script and (it is to be hoped) meet with me. And guaranteed they will ask, "So, what are you working on now?" I have not had Clue One as to what I would say.

Until now.

I went back to bed this morning determined to do a little thinking on this topic. My only restriction on the story was the main character had to be a guy. This is what you call "a commercial consideration." It's tough to sell movies with central female characters unless they're romantic-comedies, and I couldn't do a romcom if my life depended on it. Well, okay, maybe then, but with that kind of pressure I'd freeze up. Or I'd come up with a romcom where they pull guns on one another and Prizzi's Honor has already been made.

So I thought, who are some guys I know? I thought of the one lying next to me, lightly snoring, and said, Hmmm. He's nice, he's funny, he's supportive, he's brilliant, he's cute, he's successful, and he's pretty goddamn self-actualized. No one wants to see this movie.

Yes, but what if...?

Bing! My eyes flew open.

Darin woke up and asked me what I was thinking about. I told him the logline.

He said, "That's a pretty good idea." He told me the big caveat that occurred to him right away, and I agreed. But I think there's a lot of material to work with right away.

You have no idea how much this has filled me energy and determination, two things I've been lacking lately.

 * * *

I read a book yesterday that is totally a must-buy for any screenwriter: The Big Deal: Hollywood's Million-Dollar Spec Script Market, by Thom Taylor. (And look: a convenient mercantile link.)

Taylor looks at the progression of several high-profile spec scripts (Seven, The Last Action Hero, In the Line of Fire, Waterworld, While You Were Sleeping) from creation through the tortuous path into somebody's hands and getting bought and finally getting made. The book talks to the writer, agents, producers, and studio people.

Luck plays a big part in every part of this except the script getting recognized as a good piece of material--that is the talent part. What everyone agrees is that whether or not the movie ended up as good (example: The Last Action Hero), the script had to be dynamite.

(The other interesting thing I found was that stories that started out as pitches were not as well-received as stories that were written into spec scripts. The moral of the story being: write the damn thing. There are 10 people in this town who can sell a pitch, and in all likelihood that's not you, even if you're the best pitcher in town.)

One of these days writers are going to figure out that they're important. The problem is that we're not trained to believe that our own writing is any good. In fact, I'm getting nervous about giving my Nicholl script to people to read because I can just hear the "This made the semifinals? Are you kidding?" remarks.

In fact, I'm sending the script to a friend today and I've been imagining the following:

    INT. RESTAURANT - DAY

    DIANE sits at the table with her FRIEND, who seems
    slightly uncomfortable.
    
            FRIEND
        Diane, I wanted to have lunch to
        tell you...well, I like you a lot
        and you're totally a lot of fun--
            (takes Diane's hand)
        --but you can't write your way
        out of a paper bag. Please stop.

Which is silly. Everyone who's read the script has really liked it, even if they've felt compelled to point out the myriad of flaws in it. Of course, that's all I can see, the flaws. And I think, my horrible deformed child, I must hide you away so that no one will ever be forced to tell me how tragically misshapen you really are.

But that's how writers are. If anyone shows interest in anything we've done, it's "You like me! You really really like me!" Which is a)pathetic and b)why so many neophyte writers get ripped off with free options and shady producers who attach themselves to the material while bringing nothing to the party.

Once a working screenwriter made me promise was that I would never accept a free option. I said, "I know I shouldn't, but there's always that moment when you think, 'Gee, they like it!' and you're tempted." She smiled and said, "I know, but don't do it, okay?"

 * * *

The answer to Monday's question: Warren Beatty is evidently thinking about running for President.


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Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
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