I Sold a Feature Screenplay!

Ugh – I can’t believe it’s been so long since my last post. Hopefully, that stands as a testament to how busy I’ve been. (I feel like I’ve said that before.) I have a few big pieces of news to share, the biggest of which you can already tell from the title.

For starters, I’m pregnant. HUGE deal in the life of me, and a big reason why I haven’t blogged much. I seem to be in the small percentage of women who wind up being sick throughout the entire course of their pregnancy (5 months now and the nausea’s still going strong!) so I’m learning a whole new level of working around being tired and sick. (Next new level will come when our bundle of joy arrives in August 2014!)

Also, I’m now the blog manager for the Digital Film Academy (dfablog.com), which is a part-time job I absolutely LOVE. So, admittedly, I’ve been cheating on this blog by doing at least one post for them per week. Here are a few in particular I think you might be interested in (but of course, check out the whole blog when you get a chance!):

5 Rules of Successful Crowdfunding Campaigns

4 Rules for Writing Your Screenplay

5 Rules for Doing a Web Series

But onto the news that’s probably most interesting to YOU, which is, yes – I’ve sold a feature screenplay! This was news I actually had back in November, but I wanted everything to be official and signed before I started spreading it around. (Although I hinted at it quite a bit in my last post.) This is the first feature-length script I've sold.

It’s a screenplay I wrote about 8 years ago back in grad school… it underwent a massive revision in Columbia’s Screenplay Revision course last year (a pricey course, but definitely wound up being worth it) and began to get shopped around last fall. I had listed the logline on the International Screenwriters’ Association website, where an indie producer found it, asked to read it - and the rest is history.

So the most direct piece of advice I can give you out of this? Have a presence on networkisa.org, and list your ready-to-sell screenplays there.

Another, less direct but no less important piece of advice? Make sure your screenplays are in as good a shape as possible before you send them around. I had this screenplay sitting, occasionally rejected, for 7 years before biting the bullet and revising. I rolled up my sleeves, did the hard work of getting critiqued, making changes – and only a month after putting it out there again, it found a home. (And I made some decent money and got an IMDB credit.)

Let this be proof, No MFA-ers: you can do it, too! The script is going into production this month - I can't wait to send you updates of how things progress.

Owning It (Or, Coming Out of the Career Closet)

Two years and three weeks ago, I quit my stable, average job. I quit to pursue writing and film-making, two things I cared about. I quit after forcing myself to stay longer than I wanted to, because telling people you’re a “writer/filmmaker” before you’ve made the kind of films they’ll see at a multiplex can feel a little, well... embarrassing.

But I did finally quit and have been, over the past two years, gradually becoming the writer/filmmaker I set out to be. So why was it that up until recently, my Facebook and LinkedIn pages didn’t say anything about it? At least, not in my ‘employment’ info section. (Under hobbies and projects, fine.)

Well, it goes back to that embarrassment mentioned above - and owning one’s choices. 

It’s not hard to get the sense that when people ask you what you do and you answer “writer/filmmaker,” they’re secretly thinking you’re an unemployed flake. Of course, that might just be insecurity talking, but a lot of people, when I’m at that point in a conversation, will start to say things like “Do you have a day job?”, “Yeah, but what do you do for money?”, or “Oh, I wish I made more time for writing, but it’s hard with my job.”

For the record, I have a part-time job, a small business, and several standing freelance gigs with weekly deadlines - which can all feel like having more than one full time job, especially when balanced with my number one priority: my writing/filmmaking career.

Having numerous smaller jobs in place to help support a creative career offers an easy out when someone asks the “what do you do?” question and I don’t want to get into what sometimes feels like an apology/explanation for my choice not to have a standard 9 to 5... instead, I can say “I work at a publishing company,” or “I own a small business,” because these things are also true, and generally better accepted. But, saying them really doesn’t tell people who I am - because I’m a writer/filmmaker, and, at any time of day, writing and filmmaking are on my mind.

So a few months ago I looked at my LinkedIn page... because employment ONLY listed my small business and said nothing about writing/filmmaking, which felt very out-of-whack.

I realized I needed to put it out there, to everyone, without feeling shy about it. I imagined former employers and “frenemies” reading my page and being snide about it - but then I thought, “Hey - I can’t own their career choices, but I can own mine - and I’m happy about the choices I’ve made.” There’s no reason to feel shy about what I’m doing in my life. I’m doing it because it gives me a feeling of pride and accomplishment.

And so, I changed my career info.

And I was rewarded. I was flooded with invitations from other writers and filmmakers looking to connect. What’s more, people looking to hire a writer took notice and I was contacted for new job opportunities.

About two weeks ago, I went ahead and added it to my Facebook info, as well. 

It’s like coming out of the career closet. My friends and fellow writers/filmmakers knew, but most other people didn’t. I wonder how many people, when they answer that “What do you do?” question with “respectable” answers, wish they could say they do something else? It’s easy to get stuck with labels from a job that might not fit who we are - yet it becomes how others see us.

Own who you are and what you want to do. Own it 100% and go for it with all that you can. Great things will come of it.

If you don’t believe me, just wait until my next post... I have a great update in progress.

I'm Sara McDermott Jain, and I'm a writer and a filmmaker… and in 3 years of having this blog, that's the first time I've ever posted my full name. 

Blogs, Blogs, Blogs

Last weekend, not quite recovered from filming, another intense but super-rewarding task came my way: attend the AES Convention and writing three posts for Avid Blogs.

AES, for anyone who doesn't know, is the Audio Engineers Society, and I definitely had my plate full since audio is NOT my area of expertise…

I got the job through the DFA (who recommended me thanks to my No MFA blog). Determined to help me succeed, Guy Mor, a Master Pro Tools instructor at the DFA, brought me in for an audio crash course, then let me sit it on one of his advanced Pro Tools classes. The result was that in about two days time, I learned more about the world of audio than I had learned in the previous two years.

This is not unlike what I feel film people go through on most any project. True, they don't always have to become proficient in an unknown field in two days, but they do typically have to immerse themselves in their current project, whatever it may be. The result in both cases is a feeling like your head might explode from so much over-thinking.

At any rate, I'm so grateful that this opportunity came my way. I now have a way better understanding of audio, and I firmly believe that the more a filmmaker knows about all different aspects of film, the better - never mind whether or not they'll be the ones handling that particular area.

I've come across would-be directors in film classes who have (literally) rolled their eyes and whined about how they "don't need to know any of this" - they're only interested in directing. That makes my skin crawl, not only because they'll likely, on their way up the ladder toward directing their first feature, need to take on other jobs in the film industry where they're not, you know, THE BOSS, but also because when they do finally become "the boss," they might quickly discover that the difference between being good or bad at managing all those other people is actually knowing how they do what they do.

I think, to be a good director, you need at least a rudimentary understanding of everything going into your production… but I digress!

You can check out my posts on Avid blogs at http://www.avidblogs.com/author/smcdermottjain/ (and give me a few likes while you're there!)

In other blog news, I've now been hired to create and manage the DFA's up and coming blog, a job I'm super excited about. I've written my first post following a screening of students' new work last Wednesday, and am eager to get the blog up and running. More on that to come!

The Crazy Hard

Last Sunday night, I wrapped on my most recent short film.

If my last blog post didn’t already clue you in, this was the most complicated project (of my own) I’ve ever worked on. It involved a lot of characters, a small crew, and a whole bunch of locations.

But. It. Got. Done.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but I once heard someone say that “The only people who fail in this industry are the ones who give up.” I’ve come to learn that’s completely true. It’s not that people can’t make movies. Anybody can. But they don’t because it’s too crazy hard.

If you’re directing/producing your own indie (which you will if it’s your first foray into this world) you’re managing everybody and everything that has anything to do with what, in the end, might just be a few minutes of film. And those who’ve worked on films know that hundreds of hours could easily go into creating just a few minutes.

Once you get past dwelling on the crazy hard, though, you get down to just doing... and the magic of starting to do something is that, once you’re in it, it doesn’t seem so hard. Not that you’re not exhausted, but once it’s happening, it takes on its own momentum. Before you know it, you’ve wrapped.

If you’re interested in film (and if you read this blog, you must be) all I can say is: no matter what the frustrations, stick with projects and see them through.

Start with simple ones. Maybe two or three friends to help as a crew, just a few characters, and hopefully just one location.

Then start to make it a little more complex, one project at a time (starting with the crew that will help make the end product look more professional). You’ll learn how to juggle more things than you thought possible, but most importantly, you’ll learn that making a film, beyond the crazy hard, is completely doable. Just one step at a time and a willingness to be exhausted for a while.

My last short was a big challenge. I didn’t only learn about locations, which I wrote about last time, but I learned about organizing necessary transportation and food for big groups (your responsibility, especially if they’re working for free), picked up some lighting tricks, and got hands-on experience working with different members of the crew. I learned about working with a director of photography and scheduling my shot lists according to daylight. I learned that, when short on time, there are certain shots I could cut to save time (and, by extension, certain details that didn’t need to be in the script, which will better inform my writing). I also learned about pinpointing the shots that were absolutely necessary.

But, long story short, these are all things I learned by actually making the film. In a nutshell, the most important thing I learned is that, despite the challenges of bigger, more complicated, and more polished productions, I need to just keep on diving into them and getting more and more done. As a result, what I do will become more and more professional.

I now have hours of video and audio footage to sift through, to begin the editing process. That means there are a few months to go before this project is totally done. But when I wrapped last Sunday, I felt proud knowing that I’d pulled off filming my most ambitious and challenging project to date. I grew as filmmaker because of it. What’s more, I’m now more ready to take on the crazy hard.

Location, Location, Location...

It’s been a long time since I tackled a narrative short film of my own... not since my first short, Chance. Otherworldly Encounters was a documentary, where I just needed to aim a camera at an interviewee and ask questions... Other shorts of mine involved voice overs and pictures instead of live action. And sure, I’ve helped friends on their shoots, but I kept putting off and putting off (against my own logic) doing my next dramatic short.

Why?

Because it’s really, really hard.

Well... ok, that’s only half-true. The thing about filming a dramatized story is that it just SEEMS completely overwhelming, which is why it’s easy to, well, never do it. Once you get into it, though, you go one step at a time and it's not so bad... despite the fact that there is a lot to figure out and organize. (Which is why you better be passionate about the project.)

A dramatic piece involves a LOT of planning, story-boarding, and... location-scouting.

Location scouting is something I never gave a moment’s thought and which has proved, on this project, anyway, to be the bane of my existence.

With Chance, I had two characters in one location - Grand Central. That in and of itself was hard, because GC is packed with lots of tourists who want to wave in the background and snap flash photos of your film-in-progress. It’s also a location where time was limited. But at least it was one location, two characters. Not too many schedules to coordinate.

But for this new short I outdid myself. Six characters, six locations where practically every character has to appear, a big crew... and basically, a big, big struggle.

As I write this, I believe the schedule has finally been nailed down... But getting to this point felt like nothing short of a Herculean task. As a result, on this second dramatic production there are several important new things I’ve learned about locations that I want to pass along.

1. If you don’t have the right locations, postpone your shoot. It can be painful, but it’s better to take more time and get things right.
2. Have your locations confirmed BEFORE you do auditions. That way, everyone auditioning commits to the same days, days when you have your locations. (Don’t do what I did - set your days, audition and choose your cast, THEN get your locations. This ensures that you’ll have to change your original days as you struggle to find times that work for your whole mob of cast, crew, and people generous enough to let you film in their homes.
3. If you can’t pay them, throw the homeowners whose homes you use as locations all the perks you can think of.
4. Remember logistics. If a location is far away, you’re not only responsible for getting everyone there - you also need to make sure it’s possible to get all you want at that location in one day’s time (or you’ll be schlepping everyone out there again the next time they can all make it - which might be next year.)
5. Combine locations whenever possible. Also, if you have an actor coming from a long way off, try to keep your locations close enough so that he’s not on the road all day.

That’s it for now, but I’m sure I’ll think of more. Granted, these lessons apply to the low-budget filmmaker who’s pretty much coordinating these things alone and without a budget. In which case, I saved the best piece of advice for last:

Set your story in one location - preferably your own home!

Is Facebook the New Form of Journal-Writing?

Two weeks ago, I attended (for free, yay) some master classes at a theatre school in Manhattan. One of the speakers was David Lindsay-Abaire, a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright who also did the screenplay for Rabbit Hole, which garnered Nicole Kidman and Oscar nomination a few years ago.

During the Q&A, one of the attendees asked David what role he thought journal-writing played in the creative writing process.

He thought about it for a moment and then announced that, for him, it didn’t play any role - his worry with journal-writing was that it would be too self-absorbed, and so would any creative writing that would grow out of it.

I thought about this quite a bit (so much so that I did a journal entry on it!) Journal writing, for me, has always been a big part of the creative writing process, not because any stories grow directly from it, but because it’s typically during journal writing that I stumble upon my best insights on life.

But I had to agree that there was something about David’s “self-absorbed” worry... and I can admit that I’ve written many a one-sided, upset journal entry in my day. (That’s what they’re good for, right? Getting all that angst out?)

But the plus side of a journal - to someone who takes it to that level, someone who’s honest with him or herself - is that after some venting, and some self-defending, it also gives you a space in which to write about where you may have gone wrong, things that are nagging you and making you feel guilty - and a space to brainstorm how to do better in the future.

In short, a chance to understand yourself - and, by extension, other people - better.

Everywhere I look nowadays, I see narcissism. Instead of being contained in private journals, though, it comes in the form of super-abbreviated tweets and Facebook status updates. (Not excluding my own posts.) These are the key ways in which people are keeping track of their emotions. And how deep into their emotions can they go in just a few sentences?

This is probably why people get the urge to post rambling, too-much-information updates. They need an outlet. But mostly they’ll just get a few friends reflecting their rage and indignation right back at them, justifying it - so there’s no chance of growth there and, though it might temporarily feel better, the problems still remain. 

I agree that when going into our lives and our issues, there’s a danger of being self-absorbed... But whether it’s through creative writing alone, or also journal writing, the act of writing itself offers an opportunity to explore ourselves on a deeper level, in a way that just talking with friends can’t always accomplish... and in a way that just a sentence or two - the fast food equivalent of writing - could never, ever hope to reach.

Adaptation

Last week marked the completion of my first-ever attempt at adapting someone else’s work.

I wasn’t adapting from a book or a play, but rather, from a collection of songs that had been performed off-Broadway a few years back. The songwriter was someone I had met through a writing gig I got last winter, writing up a sizzle reel for a prospective new TV drama.

The material I had to work with (talking about the adaptation again) was fantastic. The songs were powerful and thought-provoking, the ballads beautiful. However, this didn’t stop this from being the most challenging project I’ve worked on to date. 

I’d always thought Broadway plays like Mamma Mia and Movin’ Out had it so easy - just cobbling together a story from already hit songs. What I discovered, though, is that developing a story that can make sense within the context of certain songs, and which allows expression for a range of different characters, is a major challenge. 

Working the music in without having it be too abrupt was a major challenge. (We're keeping it a musical.)

Having four different “lead” characters, whose stories all had to have interlocking beginnings, middles, and ends, was a major challenge (and it was also the first time I worked on anything that could fall under the heading ‘ensemble.’)

But what’s hardest of all in doing an adaptation is taking into your hands and heart something that was originally created by someone else. You wind up needing to be a lot more precious about it than you would with your own creation, since you don’t know which aspects of the original work the original creator is going to value the most. And when you do make creative decisions, you worry that the original creator might take offense to them or just be outright horrified at the direction in which you took their baby.

Will he be devastated that I made this character such a monster? Will he feel like my overall theme and message are wrong? Will he think that my representation of this particular under-world, which I’ve researched but not had any personal experience with, is laughably inauthentic?

Which brings me to the most difficult part of doing an adaptation - waiting to hear from the original creator what he thinks about what I’ve written.