Disappointed, yet still driven & determined

uphill
One step at a time

The results are in for my western’s involvement with the major screenwriting contests for this year:

PAGE – nope. Didn’t get notes.

Austin – nope. Notes expected later in the year. (They got over 9100 entries for shorts and features this year. That’s A LOT.)

Nicholl – top 15%, which isn’t bad. Two sets of notes; the first reader really liked it, whereas the second’s comments make me highly suspicious about their qualifications.

On a positive note, the script placed in the top 100 of the ISA’s Emerging Screenwriters contest, which is nice. Fingers crossed it advances to the finals.

But back to the big three. It’s a little frustrating that things didn’t work out, but that doesn’t mean the script’s bad. A lot of my readers, many of whom have done well in these contests, all had very positive things to say about it and thought it was a solid and entertaining piece of work.

Two things to keep in mind about these contests:

It’s all subjective.

Sometimes you just get a shitty reader.

These also happen to be things we have no control over. Yes, it’s disappointing to get that email that includes the phrase “Unfortunately…”, but just because you didn’t do well this year doesn’t mean you won’t do better next year. This is the mantra I’m going with for now.

I’m also taking a little time off from the western to focus on the comedy and at least one or two other scripts. It helps.

Something else for you to ponder: contests aren’t the only way in. More and more I’m hearing/reading from writers who do well in contests, but nothing comes of it. They might get a read, but that’s it. You gotta keep trying from every approach you can think of.

That’s my plan.

Will I enter the contests next year? Possibly. But they’re not a priority.

Making inroads into a getting a career going is.

They didn’t say no

champagne
If you’re going to look at the glass as half-full, why not have it at least be something worth drinking?

An encouraging bit of news from the ongoing quest for representation.

A new management firm had contacted me, and asked to read some of my scripts. I sent the western and the fantasy-adventure, then worked really hard on not thinking about it. Refocusing my attention on other scripts proved to be the most effective.

A few weeks went by, and I sent the obligatory follow-up. “Haven’t got to them yet,” was the response. “Check back in a few weeks.” Back I dove into gettin’ stuff done.

A few more weeks pass. Another follow-up inquiry. “Halfway through the fantasy. Really like it. Will be in touch.” Nothing wrong with that.

Another few weeks, and another follow-up. “Battling a nasty head cold. Hard to read and stay focused.”

At this point, you’d think common sense would have prevailed and I should accept that this was all building up to a rejection. But for some reason, it didn’t seem that way.

The person was still responding, and I was making a point of not being pushy. Even after relaying this story to a few writer chums, the general consensus was “You’re just wasting your time. They’re just letting you down easy.” Again, this felt different.

I’m a stubborn sort, especially when it comes to getting a career going, so I waited another week and sent one more follow-up.

They explained things had been taking so long because they currently didn’t have any solid connections with prodcos doing family movies (which this script could be considered), and weren’t sure where else they could take it – for now. They also asked me to keep them updated if anything happens with it somewhere else.

They had high praise for my writing and firm grasp of story and structure, and added that they still had a big pile of other scripts to get through, so it might be a while before they got to the western. The message ended with “thanks for your patience”.

I wrote back, thanking them for the update (adding that the writing for the western is stronger than that in the fantasy) and that I’d be in touch several weeks down the road. They were cool with all of it.

While this didn’t exactly yield the results I was hoping for, it also didn’t end like the many that have come before it. The person liked my writing, and always got back to me, which is definitely more than has happened with others.

There were lots of times throughout this whole process I was convinced I would receive an email with the inevitable “thanks, but no thanks”, but that never happened. After all this, I’d still consider what happened as a positive thing.

It may not be quite “back to the drawing board”, but it reinforces my belief that good things are fast approaching. In the meantime, I’ve got a few more scripts requiring my attention.

-On a semi-related note, screenwriting consultant Bill Boyle will be holding his workshop How To Sell Your Screenplay From Anywhere on Wednesday April 27 from 7-10pm at Fort Mason in San Francisco. Among the topics to be covered will be Industry Access, Marketing Tools, Script Protection, and Legal Aspects. Registration is $75, and at last check there were only 12 slots left, so don’t delay! For more details, email Bill at bill@billboyle.net

-One more thing. I ran the SF Rock & Roll Half-marathon this past Sunday. Many hills were involved. 1:58:09.

It was good enough for Spielberg…

quint
“Eleven hundred men went in the water. Three hundred and sixteen men come out. The sharks took the rest.”

There’s a pivotal scene in my western where my main character reveals why she does what she does and what made her the person she is. Nothing too complicated. Just a couple of lines of dialogue.

It took a few passes to whittle it down so it got to the point fast and in as few words as possible. I think it works quite nicely.

It’s been suggested how this was a great opportunity to apply the “show, don’t tell” rule and make it a flashback. The logic being that since it’s such an important moment, showing it, rather than just her talking about it, would have a greater impact.

I’m not so sure about that.

I don’t have a problem with flashbacks, but have always tried to avoid using them. I guess I see them almost as a cheat; possibly even lazy writing. Like you can’t weave that information into what’s happening now, so you stop the action to show it. But once you interrupt the momentum of your story, it’s not easy to get things back up to speed.

And sometimes a flashback just isn’t necessary.

Consider the scene from JAWS pictured above with Quint’s story about the Indianapolis. Should we actually see what he’s describing? Highly doubtful. Part of why that speech works so well is how it’s delivered. You can see and hear what that experience did to him. How you’re imagining it is much more terrifying than anything they could show. The speech would lose its impact if we were concentrating on the action, rather than what Quint is saying.

Sometimes just a line of dialogue or two can be just as effective, if not possibly more so, as pausing the action for a flashback. This isn’t to say you shouldn’t use it. If you think it’s the most effective way to make your point, then by all means do it.

Just make sure it’s a solid fit.

So this is what inner peace feels like

zen garden
Serenity, calm, and all that

Philosophy, metaphysics and existentialism aren’t really my thing, but I suppose you could say I’m feeling very “zen” these days.

Part of it is stems from completing the last-polish-before-contests of my western. It definitely reads better, and I’m extremely happy with the results.

Working on this rewrite also renewed my sense of “don’t hold back”. It was exhilarating to write material that felt so alive and vibrant. I am fully confident this will continue with each draft of each of my scripts from this point on.

For some reason, this may also tie directly into a majority of my anxiety and stress and self-imposed pressure simply disappearing, or at least being drastically reduced.  Seriously. Maybe it’s from just accepting that success will happen when it happens, and that beating myself up until it does is just counter-productive. I suspect there will be times when I’ll still get a little down, but expect it to occur on a less regular basis and definitely not as severe.

Big things of a positive nature are ahead, chums. I will do my best to maintain this blissful sensation while I keep working toward reaching that inevitable goal.

Which I do expect to happen. Preferably sooner than later, but either way I’ll get there.

**Editor’s note – this is my 700th post. While the ideal subject matter would have been “I sold a script!” or at least along those lines, I’m quite content with it covering the topic it does.

I hope you’ve enjoyed being part of this for the previous 699 posts over the past 7 years, and that you’ll keep coming back for more.

Thanks for reading!

The significance and heartbreak of almost

Tim Love/Hellmanns Recipe shoot.
You celebrate your way. I’ll celebrate mine.

Well, that’s that. The results are in, and it looks like it was mighty close. Practically a photo finish. One that will be debated by scholars far and wide long after the fact.

Actually, I have no idea what the results were.

All I know is that the 2015 Screencraft Action/Thriller contest announced its Grand Prize winner and First Place winner, and my western was neither.

(I almost said it failed to get either, but opted not to. More on that in a sec.)

It did, however, place among the top ten finalists, so I guess that’s something.

An honor to be part of this elite group? Most definitely. All ten finalist scripts are being distributed to Screencraft’s network of industry contacts, so all I can do now is hope for the best (while working on new scripts, of course).

That being said, how can I not feel pangs of frustration from not achieving either of the top two? Could the script have been better? Probably. Is it solid enough now? I like to think so. For all I know, it came in third.

I totally get how this is part of the process and should be thrilled the script made it this far. Believe me, I am. Very much so. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I, along with every other writer who entered the contest, wasn’t entertaining daydreamy thoughts of being proclaimed the winner. But that’s not how it worked out.

Honestly, it hurts. Or maybe stings is more fitting. Either way, it feels like “I tried my best, but it still wasn’t good enough.” This sensation will linger for about a day, eventually fading but not totally disappearing. By that time I’ll have dusted myself off, ready to jump back into my normal routine of full speed ahead. I’ve got a few irons in several fires, plus a few projects I prefer to keep on the QT. For now, at least.

I mentioned being tempted to say the script failed to win. True, it didn’t win, but maybe “fail” is too harsh a word. The script did exceptionally well, which I suppose is a reflection of my writing ability and how it’s developing. This is the third consecutive year I’ve had a script place in some manner in a contest, so I must be doing something right.

So for now I’ll keep in mind that sage piece of wisdom uttered after all competitions:

Just wait ’til next year.