I got my first work in Hollywood writing
for THE NEW LOVE AMERICAN STYLE in 1986 or '87. I had a mentor
named Richie Raskind, who taught me the ins and outs of sitcom.
He gave generously of his time because others had done so for
him (the original PAY IT FORWARD). He made me promise only to
listen carefully, work hard, and teach other writers in my turn.
I have done my best to do all three.
I got my first work in Hollywood writing for THE NEW LOVE AMERICAN
STYLE in 1986 or '87. I had a mentor named Richie Raskind, who
taught me the ins and outs of sitcom. He gave generously of his
time because others had done so for him (the original PAY IT FORWARD).
He made me promise only to listen carefully, work hard, and teach
other writers in my turn. I have done my best to do all three.
The first script I wrote was a terrible
screenplay called ROOMERS. Fueled by (but utterly misinterpreting)
Syd Field, I banged it out in three weeks. The story of a young
striver who inherits a rooming house full of weirdos, it featured,
I think, aliens and a big party. Fortunately, the memory fades.
No, wait, the first script I wrote
was a one-act play in high school, titled DUCKS. It was about
these ducks, see... my drama teacher told me that it was not a
play in any form she recognized. Later it won a modest award.
Guess I showed her, huh?
My first film was called XCU or EXTREME CLOSE-UP. There's a bunch
of kids living in an MTV Real World-style house, but one of them's
a killer. I had a dream relationship with the director, who encouraged
me to spend as much time on the set as I could stand. I say "could
stand," because I find a movie set -- even the set of my
own movie -- to be about the most boring place on the planet.
No matter what your job is (and mine was mostly just to gawk and
smile) most of the time you're waiting around for someone else
to do theirs. Nevertheless, I was consulted and respected by the
director, treated like a human by the cast and crew, and otherwise
deluded into believing that This Is How It Is.
Coffee at 7:40. Newpaper in bed with my lovely wife Maxx until
8:30 or so. A quick spin to the park with Dodger and Ranger, two
wonderful dogs named after major league baseball teams. Back at
my desk by 9 or 9:30. Check the nets (that is, read and answer
my emails). Then I get down to the task at hand. Work pretty vigorously
on whatever is urgent or important (or, hopefully, both urgent
and important.) Depending on the weather, either a big dog hike
or a trip to Starbucks mid-afternoon, then back home for a few
more hours. Knock off around 7. Watch TV or a video. Crash and
burn before midnight.
The salient structure of my writing
day is that I have two solid blocks of writing time each day.
My brain gets burned out after about 3 hours, but it bounces back
quickly -- hence the midday break. No mention of meals. I'd rather
not eat, but as I must, I try to do this as quickly as possible
and without much ceremony.
I don't pay much attention to this if I don't have to. Once the
script is done, the film is somebody else's trouble. I'd rather
be writing.
When there's an idea I'm chasing, I try to "glance at it
out of the corner of my eye" for as long as possible. By
this I mean that I think about the idea in a very unstructured,
uncommitted way. I try not to overthink anything early on, to
avoid being trapped at a level of detail inappopriate to the stage
of development I'm at. After I've got a grasp of the idea, I work
the steps of incremental development described by me in my book
CREATIVITY RULES! A WRITER'S WORKBOOK (available through my website,
www.vorza.com). This lets me build the thing in stages: one liner;
paragraph; premise pages; short outline; long outline; script.
I am a slave to incremental development. The worst thing a writer
can do is start a script too soon; that is, without a strong,
sturdy outline on which to stand.
Remember: Every draft is just a platform
on which you stand to reach the next draft. This goes for every
step of development. Don't be precious about the work.
I'm a day-writer. I rarely write productively at night because
I've usually spent all of the day's brain on writing or on other
matters. I write very little during the weekend because I'm too
busy recreating with ultimate frisbee or poker. So yeah, I guess
I'm a 40hr-work week type.
Coffee. After that, the internet, because answers to everything
from spelling to exact wording of a quote to the number of endangerd
pumas in California is right there at my fingertips.
I have two toughest parts. The first is what I call "the
Swill Draft" (described in detail in my book THE COMIC TOOLBOX:
HOW TO BE FUNNY EVEN IF YOU'RE NOT, also available at my weblink).
The swill draft is the first raw, nasty draft of anything, and
I hate it. I'd much rather be rewriting. The other part I hate
is what I call "the face of the wave." That's where
the words end and the blank page begins. It always requires a
deep breath and a big running start to attack the face of the
wave.
The flip answer would of course be "getting paid." Unfliply,
I would say that I really like rewriting, polishing, editing,
putting in the fun parts, enhancements and filigrees. I also love,
and have a great passion for, teaching writers.
I have a darling little cheapie called DISUNITY about an ultimate
frisbee player who hooks up with a certifiably nutty girl and
her obsessive-compulsive collector brother. Haven't been able
to find a home for it yet, but I will. The controlling idea is
this: "We're all damaged goods; we fix each other through
love."
Write, obviously. Nothing else matters if you don't have an ACTIVE
PRACTICE OF WRITING. Write every day, even if it sucks. In fact,
don't expect it not to suck at first. Plan to serve a long, self-imposed
apprenticeship (5 years is not too long) before you start to get
good. To preserve your writing time and your sanity, find something
else to do for money that pays you better than an hourly wage.
In my early, struggly days, I worked as a strolling entertainer
(mime, ventriloquist, jester) in shopping malls. It was easy,
fun work and I could charge $100 an hour.
Also, accept any job that allows you
to write for money. Converting words into paychecks is your job,
and it pays double dividends, no matter what the writing is, because
you get paid to practice your craft and improve what you do.
At bottom, though, go back to Mark Twain, who said that the three
rules for being a writer are, "Write, write, write."
Right?
I was extremely insecure in my early days, and wore my insecurity
on my sleeve. This made me a threat to people who were more covertly
insecure; they were afraid that my insecurity would shed a light
on theirs. This hurt my career a great deal. If I had it to do
over again, I'd have spent less time worrying about whether people
liked me or my work, and more time just writing. When I stopped
caring about external validation and even about positive or negative
outcomes, things started to get better. I've also done a long
"end-around" around my career by writing books for writers
and teaching extensively worldwide. I am the writer I am because
I am the teacher I am. So never let them daunt you with, "Those
who can't do, teach." Friends, "Those who can do, do
both."
Beat your head against the phone. Call everyone, even the people
who say don't call them. Be friendly, personable, and extremely
honest. Have great scripts. Eventually you'll get some attention.
Remember, the industry is fueled by new scripts, and people are
so afraid of missing the Next Great Script that they almost can't
resist having a peek at yours.
I've been beating my head against Hollywood since 1985, always
as a writer. I always felt that being anything else (a writer's
assistant or development exec, for example) would divert me from
my true purpose.
The cost of filmmaking technology keeps dropping and dropping,
to the point where someone can make a movie on a credit card.
The good news is that this creates marvelous grass-roots opportunities.
The bad news is, there's sometimes not enough critical oversight
(editing) on people's projects, so that what they think is "art"
is really just undercooked chuffa.
Alternative distribution systems, through the internet for example
but also including satellite and broadband cable, will allow filmmakers
to sell their products like people now sell magazines or mail-order
books. It will be possible for people to make a modest living
making and selling their modest little pictures totally outside
of (and ignored by) the mainstream.
The computer transformed my writing by making it easy for me to
delete what didn't work. It also allows me to SAVE EVERY DRAFT,
which I find useful. Once I got over the idea that my hard drive
didn't care how many drafts I saved, I started dating every day's
work as a separate draft. This allows me to delete and rewrite
with aplomb because if I decide I've made a mistake, I can always
go back and retrieve the earlier version. Key tip: save every
day's work as a different draft. This will set you free.
The internet made it possible for me
to have business contacts without having to take meetings or make
phone calls, which suits my nature. I am able to work at home
and yet stay connected. I don't know how I would manage otherwise.
Also, the internet has allowed people to find me. As I mentioned,
I've written a couple of books on writing, and both books have
a strong following overseas. Since people in other countries can
track me down on the web, they can (and do) invite me to come
to where they are and share what I know. This, as you can imagine,
makes my life rise.
I would be more prolific.
Nothing, just get excited about a job (or a paycheck) and plunge
in. I don't have much trouble getting started anymore.
I don't. I simply don't suffer fools. As my mentor, Richie Raskind,
told me on day one, "In Hollywood, mensches work with mensches
and assholes work with assholes." Seeing myself as not an
asshole, I simply refuse to work with them.
I can defuse a difficult ego like defusing a bomb, simply by yielding
status. I'll give the difficult ego all the room he needs because
I understand he's trying to feel good about himself. Me, I'm just
trying to serve the work.
When I saw REPO MAN in 1984, I thought, "Hey, I can do that,"
and moved to Hollywood the next year.
I worked with Gail Morgan Hickman on THE SENTINEL, and he taught
me a great deal about hour drama and also about emotional truth.
Working with Sean Cunningham on EXTREME CLOSE-UP, I discovered
that I didn't know nearly as much about screenwriting as I thought
I did. I owe both of these men a debt.
It's like being the guest of honor at your own surprise party,
except you know it's coming.
Sure. To quote Winston Churchill on writing novels, there comes
a time when you have to "Kill the beast and fling him to
the public." However, Sean Cunningham taught me that every
movie you make is actually three movies: The one you write; the
one you capture on film; and the one you're actually able to assemble
in editing. This is a useful concept. It keeps alive the notion
that shooting and editing are critical to the creative success
of a film.
Nothing but support. They knew I couldn't hold a real job anyhow.
I'm currently "glancing out of the corner of my eye"
at a movie called WHALES about Las Vegas high rollers. I would
like to do the research.
You're not alone. We all go through the same shit. Keep your head
down and keep moving forward. Concentrate on words on the page,
for that, at the end of the day, is the only thing a writer can
truly control. Focus on the process not the product. If you can't
or don't enjoy the process of writing, you should go drive a truck,
because the product is such a dim and iffy payoff. Don't let Hollywood
validate your self-worth. Validate from within. Keep reading and
learning. Give and receive love. "This I believe above all
other things, a man shall find goodness if goodness he brings."
-jv