This blog began as a way to commemorate the writing of my 20th script - referred to herein as The Spec. (I just signed pages of contracts and lawyer-speak is contagious, sorry!)
The Spec has just hit the first-draft-worthy-of-showing-people stage and therefore, is by no means close to the end of its journey. That said, I am preparing to start writing my 21st screenplay, an original story I have come up with to fulfill a writing assignment. This will hereto be referred to as The Assignment. (Oops, did it again.)
So, this might be a great time to deliver that long time promised post about pitching. But first a story; a cautionary tale:
The first time I took out a pitch it was with my former writing partner and it was disastrous. During our second meeting, the executive fell asleep half way through. I will never forget her gum falling out of her mouth, rolling across the floor and stopping right in front of my brand new shoes I hoped would impress people, but I could in no way afford. So much for that.
On the way to our next pitch (back then it was a mad frenzy to pitch all the buyers the same day) we got a call that all our meetings had been canceled and we were to report to our agent's office. Do not pass go, do not collect a million dollar preemptive bid.
Our agent sat us down and said, "Pitch me." We started. First my partner started with the set-up and then about five minutes later I jumped in to do "We open with...".
I noticed that while I was pitching my partner was mouthing silently all of my lines. To her defense, we had practiced this for weeks and I was probably doing the same thing when it was her turn, only I probably added hand-gestures.
Ten minutes in, our agent held up his hand and said, "What are you doing? Are you pitching this movie in real time? How long is this running?"
Barely audible I answered: "Once we did it in 58 minutes."
Our agent's head dropped on his desk.
Looking back now - it is just one of a hundred mistakes I have made in my career. Now, it's funny. Then, it was embarrassing and potentially a career ending level of bad. We were lucky to get a second chance. That said, the industry is more fickle now. Hopefully other writers will be able to learn from my mistakes.
That said, a good pitch has you hooked 30 seconds in and lasts no longer than 10 minutes.
You see how far off the mark we were? But, we loved our story. It was a great story. The characters were amazing. It would have been the best thing we ever wrote. But we weren't skilled enough pitchers to give that idea its chance in the spotlight.
Honestly, I have yet to master the short pitch. I still struggle. I'm a 15-20 minute pitcher - but I'm also funny in a room and I make a lot of comedic asides. I am not recommending this tactic. It's a crutch - each and every time I try to be a 10 minute pitcher, I will always try until my last time "in the room."
That said, my batting average isn't that bad. Of the last four assignments I've been up for I've landed three. I'm not saying this to brag, I just want you to trust me. Cut it down. Cut it down. Cut it down.
Now for the nitty-gritty:
There are two primary types of pitches. Pitches of your original ideas (either tv or feature) that you hope a buyer (studio or network) will purchase and give you the money to write in advance. There are also the pitches for "open writing assignments" and "rewrites."
The difference is that on the latter you have a set of criteria you must incorporate. Usually, you are considered for the gig because the producer/studio/network has read your writing sample and they feel your talents would lend themselves to their project.
Since pitching your original idea will dovetail into the pitching for an assignment, I'll continue with the assignment track.
Your agent or your manager calls you up and says that there's a potential assignment at studio "x". They read "y" of yours as a sample. Your agent/manager will give you the one-liner and whatever else they know of the direction the studio wants to take.
For example, "It is a movie about the Kentucky Derby. They read your story about the Off-Track betting and think you'd work. The original draft is a thriller where there's a plot to kill the favorite before the race. The studio wants to turn this into a fish out of water comedy starring (insert SNL comedian turned blockbuster star) with a strong love-interest subplot. She may or not be the horse's jockey."
For those of you in the business, even though this does sound nearly plausible, I made this example up.
So, now you get to work. And here's the part that is just like pitching your own original idea. You come up with a way to set up your main character, meaning make us care about what he's after, make us want him to get it and then throw a big obstacle in his path. You hit all the major turning points, making sure to illuminate the scope and tone of your piece. Don't forget about the set-pieces. (I define SP's as the fun moments that will probably end up in the trailer, but are usually the same fun ideas you can't wait to write.)
I've had tremendous success following the late and great Blake Snyder's SAVE THE CAT formula, which I tweaked to create my own Story Grid.
Once I find all my major points, giving a lot of attention to my main characters arc, I write the beats from my Story Grid out how I would say it. (It is always, one hundred percent too long.) I then edit it down as much as I can and start practicing telling the story in the mirror.
In the mirror is key. You have to say it so many times that you can say it like you were telling a story to your friend. Know it well enough that you can answer questions and then jump right back in after being interrupted.
Practicing it this much also tells you where it lags. When you get to a part you want to skip - see if you can cut that. Then practice on everyone who will listen. I practiced once at a cafe with a stranger who was also a single eating alone. She turned out to know a lot about the arena of my film. We are still friends.
The meeting is set and you pitch it. Going into a room is a heroic feat for us writers. We live most of our work lives in sweat-pants and bedhead. Our best conversations are with imaginary characters that we create and rewrite and kill if need be. So, to step into a room filled with execs (all of whom are smart, attractive, articulate and very, very learned on your craft) and become "the showman." Well, it's like asking a trained seal to drop the ball and clapping act and instead paint a still-life watercolor.
Also, often, not always, but often good "pitchers" aren't the best writers. As good writers often aren't the best pitchers. We are all unique. We all have places where we can and should work on our game. I'm too long-winded. My long irons tend to fade. Doesn't mean I'm not great out of the sand.
You do what you can. You give it your all. Sometimes you get the gig. Often times you don't. But each time you try you are better. Each time you try you are that much closer to success.
Happy Writing!
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