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Lee Jessup is a a 20-year entertainment industry professional who works as a career coach for screenwriters of all kinds. Between publishing her newsletter and teaching screenwriting master classes, she's written a new book, Getting it Write: An Insider's Guide to a Screenwriting Career from Michael Wiese Productions. Lee and I spoke recently about her book, growing up on a set,and what happens metaphorically if you don't pursue your dream. |
Dave Watson: There are a lot of books on writing and screenwriting, yet your book focuses on building a screenwriting career. How come?
Lee Jessup: Exactly, there aren’t a lot of books on building a screenwriting career. There is a huge disconnect out there. When I was in my early twenties, I was lucky enough to write a script that got a lot of interest from the few people in the industry that I knew – the script got optioned and went on to get packaged by William Morris (Now WME), and I went on to realize that I had absolutely no desire to work as a screenwriter. Had I not had the good fortune of knowing a few people in the industry, I never would have know this. I realized this was quite a process, not just selling specs but being a long-term writer, and there was very little information for screenwriters out there about it. In my following years as a Development Executive and as the director of ScriptShark, this was only reinforced. I wanted to write a plan that was actionable, from becoming a writer to becoming an entrepreneur, between writing a spec or a TV pilot or working as a TV staff writer. You have to build your core competencies.
DW: Now, in business speak a core competency is usually defined as an inimitable, immobile skill set. Does this apply here?
LJ: Yes, and timing is a core competency. I always think of Apple Computers and their unique role in computing in terms of defining brand, developing from core competency outward, and really leveraging identity.
DW: Speaking of unique skill sets, does this transfer across borders easily? Is there a guide to creating an international success? I sometimes think of Pulp Fiction, which grossed $100 million domestically and $100 million in foreign theaters.
LJ: You also saw it with Slumdog Millionaire. You certainly start with a universal theme, and that will take you farthest. The target used to be a 40/60 split for box office revenue expectations, with 60% coming from foreign.
DW: The forty being domestic gross?
LJ: Yeah, and the foreigner markets have gotten tougher with the creation of more local content. Comedies especially can be tough to sell as they are often relational or situational, and very much linguistically dependent.
DW: What separates a successful screenwriter from a less successful one?
LJ: You have to have talent. A unique voice is 30%. Mastering the craft and producing work is essential. One secret is to write all the time and never sit on your hands. Writers who make it are constantly generating content. If they’re not writing, it’s by design. Second, you have to constantly be reading books, magazines, or anything that will give you ideas. A third ingredient is to constantly work your contacts. You have to write and get feedback. This is a collaborative art form, and in order for a script to go from a blueprint to a TV show or movie, you’re going to need lots of buy-in, which is all about how people perceive it. You have to get your name out there and expose your work for people to see and read.
DW: In your book you say you got started at the age of eleven on your father’s bustling movie set. Do you remember a day or image that spoke to you and you felt determined to work in this industry?
LJ: I don’t know if it was a single day or moment, but I grew up spending lots of time on set – from reading scripts all the way through to promotional art - assembling pieces of a script and movie together. I spent time in casting offices and knew a director well, who was really part of our family. English is not my first language, it’s Hebrew, and the movies were the way I learned English. When you’re working on movies they are all-consuming events and a collective experience. It was like summer camp meets war. I loved it then, but I’m in a different stage of my life, and much prefer being a support to writers during normal, working hours. I have a family so I can no longer afford to be involved in physical production. The most precious time on my day is when the kids come up on my bed at the end of the day, and we do Tell Me Time, telling each other about our day.
DW: Speaking of “tell me” and storytelling, David Mamet recently said in an interview that all documentaries are fiction, that they are structured in a way so that the audience makes an inference. Would you agree?
LJ: Yes. Documentaries are stories from a director’s point of view. There’s a great documentary, Waltz with Bashir, which is a history, really a crystallization, of a country’s seminal event from an auteur’s point of view. It really boils down to belief.
DW: Chapter six is on managing expectations. Is failing up common?
LJ: Oh yes. Many people enter the industry with false expectations and there is one reality: you will be rejected. It’s part of the business. I tell writers all the time that if they’re not rejected, they’re not doing their job. You’re not going to arrive with one script, go to one person, and make a movie. Last year there were hundreds of scripts moving within the professional space and only 124 were sold. You also have to know then to give up on a project when it’s not working for you as you had hoped, and keep building connections. Building a career is not about the one-and-only script. It’s about tenacity, about the body of work, about making a case for you, the writer. It usually takes three to ten years of methodical work to get a screenwriting career going, and in that time that writer should always have three to four completed screenplays to talk about. Those are the industry norms. Many quit early based on unrealistic expectations, without a real understanding of what it takes to make it in today’s environment.
DW: Another chapter is on knowing your seasons. Sometimes it seems that there are big openings week after week. Action movies seem to be all year-round. We’re on the cusp of spring and have a huge movie opening, Divergent.
LJ: Coincidentally, it’s right around the same weekend the first Hunger Games movie opened. One example is January and February, which is time for horror—It’s cold outside, people are excited. There is a different seasonality which writers have to be aware of, which has to do with what’s happening in the industry in any given time, when people are reading, when it’s a bad time to send material to industry folks and such. You have to know when it’s TV season – like when networks are traditionally staffing up -, which is May through July, and when film executives are reading. For example, everyone things that the industry is up and running the first of the year and reading scripts, but in reality, in mid-January, executives are mostly all at Sundance so if you want to get on top of an exec’s read pile, you might be better off waiting.
DW: One great thing about your book is that you give structure to an industry that puzzles many. Especially getting work read.
LJ: That’s important. From mid-November to the end of January, executives aren’t reading anything. Now of course, somewhere, an executive will read this and say, “No, I read my scripts over Christmas!” But there are generalities to getting a script read, and it’s up to the writers to find some commonalities to rely on unless told otherwise. .
DW: Finally, is there a movie moment that has stood out for you over the years, that keeps coming back to you?
LJ: When I was nine or ten, I was a little aspiring ballerina and my dad took me to see Flashdance. On the way home we talked a lot and my dad kept asking me what this movie was about. It finally dawned on me, and I think Michael Nouri actually says it in the movie, that if you don’t hold onto your dream, you’re dead.
DW: Its message connected with you.
LJ: Its connection was powerful and immediate. That’s the effect of movies: they can change lives, inspire, illuminate, and be all-consuming. It also helped me make informed choices. Movies are valuable and have things to say.
DW: And they can say it under two hours, under an hour, or even in a single moment or line of dialogue. Lee, thanks much for your time.
LJ: Thank you Dave!
Clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0GZAeKVtfg
Dave Watson is a writer, educator, and editor of Movies Matter. He lives in Madison, WI.
Lee Jessup: Exactly, there aren’t a lot of books on building a screenwriting career. There is a huge disconnect out there. When I was in my early twenties, I was lucky enough to write a script that got a lot of interest from the few people in the industry that I knew – the script got optioned and went on to get packaged by William Morris (Now WME), and I went on to realize that I had absolutely no desire to work as a screenwriter. Had I not had the good fortune of knowing a few people in the industry, I never would have know this. I realized this was quite a process, not just selling specs but being a long-term writer, and there was very little information for screenwriters out there about it. In my following years as a Development Executive and as the director of ScriptShark, this was only reinforced. I wanted to write a plan that was actionable, from becoming a writer to becoming an entrepreneur, between writing a spec or a TV pilot or working as a TV staff writer. You have to build your core competencies.
DW: Now, in business speak a core competency is usually defined as an inimitable, immobile skill set. Does this apply here?
LJ: Yes, and timing is a core competency. I always think of Apple Computers and their unique role in computing in terms of defining brand, developing from core competency outward, and really leveraging identity.
DW: Speaking of unique skill sets, does this transfer across borders easily? Is there a guide to creating an international success? I sometimes think of Pulp Fiction, which grossed $100 million domestically and $100 million in foreign theaters.
LJ: You also saw it with Slumdog Millionaire. You certainly start with a universal theme, and that will take you farthest. The target used to be a 40/60 split for box office revenue expectations, with 60% coming from foreign.
DW: The forty being domestic gross?
LJ: Yeah, and the foreigner markets have gotten tougher with the creation of more local content. Comedies especially can be tough to sell as they are often relational or situational, and very much linguistically dependent.
DW: What separates a successful screenwriter from a less successful one?
LJ: You have to have talent. A unique voice is 30%. Mastering the craft and producing work is essential. One secret is to write all the time and never sit on your hands. Writers who make it are constantly generating content. If they’re not writing, it’s by design. Second, you have to constantly be reading books, magazines, or anything that will give you ideas. A third ingredient is to constantly work your contacts. You have to write and get feedback. This is a collaborative art form, and in order for a script to go from a blueprint to a TV show or movie, you’re going to need lots of buy-in, which is all about how people perceive it. You have to get your name out there and expose your work for people to see and read.
DW: In your book you say you got started at the age of eleven on your father’s bustling movie set. Do you remember a day or image that spoke to you and you felt determined to work in this industry?
LJ: I don’t know if it was a single day or moment, but I grew up spending lots of time on set – from reading scripts all the way through to promotional art - assembling pieces of a script and movie together. I spent time in casting offices and knew a director well, who was really part of our family. English is not my first language, it’s Hebrew, and the movies were the way I learned English. When you’re working on movies they are all-consuming events and a collective experience. It was like summer camp meets war. I loved it then, but I’m in a different stage of my life, and much prefer being a support to writers during normal, working hours. I have a family so I can no longer afford to be involved in physical production. The most precious time on my day is when the kids come up on my bed at the end of the day, and we do Tell Me Time, telling each other about our day.
DW: Speaking of “tell me” and storytelling, David Mamet recently said in an interview that all documentaries are fiction, that they are structured in a way so that the audience makes an inference. Would you agree?
LJ: Yes. Documentaries are stories from a director’s point of view. There’s a great documentary, Waltz with Bashir, which is a history, really a crystallization, of a country’s seminal event from an auteur’s point of view. It really boils down to belief.
DW: Chapter six is on managing expectations. Is failing up common?
LJ: Oh yes. Many people enter the industry with false expectations and there is one reality: you will be rejected. It’s part of the business. I tell writers all the time that if they’re not rejected, they’re not doing their job. You’re not going to arrive with one script, go to one person, and make a movie. Last year there were hundreds of scripts moving within the professional space and only 124 were sold. You also have to know then to give up on a project when it’s not working for you as you had hoped, and keep building connections. Building a career is not about the one-and-only script. It’s about tenacity, about the body of work, about making a case for you, the writer. It usually takes three to ten years of methodical work to get a screenwriting career going, and in that time that writer should always have three to four completed screenplays to talk about. Those are the industry norms. Many quit early based on unrealistic expectations, without a real understanding of what it takes to make it in today’s environment.
DW: Another chapter is on knowing your seasons. Sometimes it seems that there are big openings week after week. Action movies seem to be all year-round. We’re on the cusp of spring and have a huge movie opening, Divergent.
LJ: Coincidentally, it’s right around the same weekend the first Hunger Games movie opened. One example is January and February, which is time for horror—It’s cold outside, people are excited. There is a different seasonality which writers have to be aware of, which has to do with what’s happening in the industry in any given time, when people are reading, when it’s a bad time to send material to industry folks and such. You have to know when it’s TV season – like when networks are traditionally staffing up -, which is May through July, and when film executives are reading. For example, everyone things that the industry is up and running the first of the year and reading scripts, but in reality, in mid-January, executives are mostly all at Sundance so if you want to get on top of an exec’s read pile, you might be better off waiting.
DW: One great thing about your book is that you give structure to an industry that puzzles many. Especially getting work read.
LJ: That’s important. From mid-November to the end of January, executives aren’t reading anything. Now of course, somewhere, an executive will read this and say, “No, I read my scripts over Christmas!” But there are generalities to getting a script read, and it’s up to the writers to find some commonalities to rely on unless told otherwise. .
DW: Finally, is there a movie moment that has stood out for you over the years, that keeps coming back to you?
LJ: When I was nine or ten, I was a little aspiring ballerina and my dad took me to see Flashdance. On the way home we talked a lot and my dad kept asking me what this movie was about. It finally dawned on me, and I think Michael Nouri actually says it in the movie, that if you don’t hold onto your dream, you’re dead.
DW: Its message connected with you.
LJ: Its connection was powerful and immediate. That’s the effect of movies: they can change lives, inspire, illuminate, and be all-consuming. It also helped me make informed choices. Movies are valuable and have things to say.
DW: And they can say it under two hours, under an hour, or even in a single moment or line of dialogue. Lee, thanks much for your time.
LJ: Thank you Dave!
Clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0GZAeKVtfg
Dave Watson is a writer, educator, and editor of Movies Matter. He lives in Madison, WI.
