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Interview
with Brian Overland Brian Overland is the founder of Overland Literary Management, a Washington, D.C.-based company that represents screenwriters. Why and how did you become a
manager? It’s a long story. See, I used to write myself. For
over ten years, I banged my head against my computer in an attempt to create a
sale-worthy screenplay. But all I got for the effort were several mangled
keyboards and smashed monitors. When I could no longer afford to replace them, I
became a manager. Okay, so there’s more to it.
For several of those years, I also taught screenwriting at a university, mostly
to film students who had no interest in becoming writers and were merely taking
the course because it was mandatory. Every semester, as punishment for teaching
this class I was required to read 15 or so really really horribly written,
ill-conceived scripts. Happily, there were a few, rare exceptions. But mostly
these were painful stories with cringe-inducing prose. At times I wished I was
illiterate. But I wanted to do a good job and help these otherwise charming
kids, if for no other reason than the school was paying me actual US currency to
do so. Therefore, I felt compelled to analyze and annotate each of these
laser-printed disasters in minute detail. I would struggle to determine and
explain WHY each story didn't work and HOW I thought it could be improved and
WHY didn't the student use his or her spellcheck? Unfortunately, many of these
people were also foreign exchange students, some of whom barely had any English.
So in addition to the WHYs and HOWs, I had to deal with other issues, like:
WHAT’S this supposed to mean? And IS THIS a word? And HUH? I actually liked this job and
think I was pretty good at it and kept at it for four years until the very
thought of reading another wretched screenplay made my ears suck into my head
and slap my brain around until I quit. But the experience honed my analytical
skills and helped me recognize quality stories when I saw them (which, as I
mentioned, had been infrequently). Fortunately, I had been using these improved
story skills to give notes to writer friends of significant talent on their new
scripts. And they seemed grateful for the assistance. At least that’s what
they said to my face. By that time, I realized I had
burned out on actual writing. So I became a manager. Okay, what I forgot to mention is
I had also been running my own advertising agency for far more years than I had
been writing. So when I burned out on actual writing (about the same time I
burned out on advertising), I realized the skills I had used to sell my
agency’s work to clients would also work selling my talented friends’
screenplays to the film industry. And since I had been reading the trade papers
for years and had a subscription to the Hollywood Creative Directory, I knew (or
thought I did) the WHO and HOW of the movie business: WHO produced what kind of
films and HOW I could contact them. Plus, I had the chutzpah to cold-call total
strangers with titles like Creative Exec and Director of Development and Vice
President, the ability to create a quick rapport by phone and then pitch them
scripts I believed in. And that’s when I became a
manager. What are the differences between a
manager and an agent? Managers are good. Agents are
bad. Managers CARE about their writers. Agents don’t give a weasel’s patoot.
Managers are helpful with story and structure and character development and
spend lots of quality time with their clients helping them get their script into
crackerjack shape before submitting it to producers for them. Agents are evil,
money-grubbing bloodsuckers who are only about the money. So on the whole, I’d recommend
managers over agents. How do you find new writers to
represent? As I mentioned, I first started
with writer friends who were either unrepresented or under-represented. But I
soon started getting referrals to other fine writers. And once my name appeared
in the trades and on internet sites and in the HCD’s Agents & Managers
directory, I started receiving queries, mostly by email. At first it was just a
trickle: two or three a week. Now after several years, I get scores every week,
almost as many e-queries as spam. I received 22 new queries on New Year's Day
alone. A note to the writers out there:
THIS IS THE COMPETITION YOU FACE! If a small, independent manager on the east
coast, like me, is deluged daily with pitches and can pick and choose which he
wants to read (maybe one in 30), much less represent, what does this say about
the big players, larger agencies and management firms? And what does it say
about your odds? Your story has to be so unique and so compelling in concept
(and not necessarily in a “high-concept” way) to even get read, much less
seriously considered. Anyway, back to your question. I
do find the occasional writer via a query. But mostly I find them through
recommendations from people I know and respect. And occasionally, I find a
writer on sites like Writer’s Script Network. In fact, one boring Sunday, I
sat and read over 1200 loglines on that site. (Yes, I have no life.) Out of
those, I read maybe 300 synopses and ultimately downloaded four scripts. Four.
And from those, I found one writer. Do the math. Okay, I’ll do it for you:
That’s one out of over 1200. Screenwriting is a very tough
arena. Lots of players. Few opportunities. I think every writer should be aware
of this from the start. Your offices are in Washington,
D.C. Why not L.A.? Because I live in DC. I have a
home here and my wife has a career here. And because in this
electronic-internet-information age, I can be anywhere and do what I do. I
conduct business using the four “F” s: Fone, Fax, Fed-Ex and Force of
personality. A bit of business smarts helps. Plus the large callous on my head
from pounding it against a computer for all those years. DC is as good a place
as any. And better than some. What kinds of scripts turn you on? If I say good ones, will you
throw things at me? Seriously, it’s true. If it’s
not a compelling story compellingly told, I’m not attracted to it. Period. No
matter the genre. This is a business based on passion. My passion for a
writer’s work. An exec’s passion to champion a script. A producer’s
passion to risk his reputation trying to sell it to a studio. And a studio’s
passion to make it one of the very few films they’ll release that year. If the passion is not there at
any point along that line, there will never be a movie. I’d love (as would virtually
every producer I deal with) a good, smart comedy, with the emphasis on
“good” and “smart.” These are rare. Most attempts I’ve read just
aren’t very funny. I’d love a good thriller or action adventure. Most of the
ones I read are derivative, unresearched and boring. Period stories are fine, so
long as they are unique stories we haven’t seen – and are well-researched. Which brings up another irksome
element of many of the scripts I read: Too often the writer has not done the
necessary research to create verisimilitude. Their story doesn’t ring true
because the writer has never looked into what a reporter / detective / doctor /
lawyer / archeologist / shoe fetishist – or whatever – really does. If
you’re writing a story about birdwatchers, learn everything you can about
confusing fall warblers and the difference between a willet and a sandpiper. And
also investigate the motivation it takes to become a birder and what terms they
use and tools they carry. Meet a few of these people. You’ll have a better
script if you do the legwork. For one script I wrote, I did
extensive research on two elements of the story I knew little about. My
protagonist was a journalist working the obituary desk of a large newspaper, so
I spent two weeks at a major paper interviewing the obit writers and watching
them work. They are fascinating people, very different from other journalists.
The other research was on how to build an atom bomb. I learned the physics (at
least enough to comprehend the process) and the mechanics of the device. The
screenplay became better and richer, I believe, because of my knowledge. Not
that it was a great, compelling story by any means, but the elements rang true.
And I discovered incidental things that colored the story in wonderful ways. And I can say with confidence
that I am the only literary manager you’ll ever encounter who knows how to
build a nuclear device. I must qualify my earlier statement about being turned on
by a compelling script regardless of genre: I do have a personal distaste for
scripts that are centered on violence against women or children. Or for that
matter, violence in general unless it’s integral to a good story, like
“Blade Runner” or “Training Day” or even “Pulp Fiction.” (Okay, you
writers out there, please DO NOT send me any Tarantino-like pitches.) “Pulp
Fiction” might seem like an odd film to include, given its intense violence,
but for me it works because at its heart it is a morality tale about one man who
realizes the need to change in order to survive and does (Sam Jackson) and
another who sees no need to change and therefore doesn’t survive (John
Travolta). Plus, the depth of the characters, the original turns of the story,
the cleverness of the dialog make it work. Is it my favorite film? Far from it.
But I like it despite itself. I also shy away from serial
killer movies, which I think have been done to death (haha – okay, I’ll shut
up), mobster stories, most of which don’t interest me in the least (“The
Godfather” did it all and did it best), drug movies, horror films, slasher
films and dumb comedies. Don’t pitch me any of these or I might come after
you. What do you want to see in a query
letter? Certainly, a quality pitch is of
ultimate importance, as is good
spelling and correct grammar – signs that the sender is a professional writer. But you asked what I really want
to see, and that is… Courtesy. Mostly because I see so little of
it. Consider this: You, the writer,
are asking me, the representative, to devote two to four hours, to read your
screenplay. You are requesting a favor, albeit one that might ultimately benefit
me as well. But unfortunately – and I think probably because of the
predominance of email – many writers have dispensed with the sociable aspects
of communicating with a stranger. Sure, in an email to a friend or colleague it
is perfectly acceptable to launch directly into your message. But when you’re
approaching a stranger – especially one in a professional capacity from whom
you're requesting a favor – ask nicely. Say hi. Be politely. And say thank you
when it's over. Make a good impression right from
the start with a salutation (at the very least start with Dear Manager) and
close with a sign-off that includes your name and contact info. I can’t tell
you how many queries I receive that have neither a hello nor good-bye. I become
especially pleased if someone has done enough research to address me by name. Of
course, if I don’t respond to the logline I still won’t read their script,
but I’ll have a warm fuzzy feeling about that person all day long and am
likely to consider another query from them at some later date. To really make an impression you
might also want to start the query with some brief statement that indicates you
are writing me in particular (or anyone else you might query) because you’ve
done enough research to know who I am and have chosen to approach me for some
particular reason. Even if that reason is only "I read about you on the
internet" and all you’ve read is I’m a flaming asshole. At least
you’d done enough research to decide you wanted to approach me anyway. What mistakes do you see
screenwriters make when they submit work to you? Their first mistake, of course,
is submitting their work to me. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.) Really, the most common mistake
is that the writers haven’t rewritten the script enough to bring a good
concept up to its best level. Often the script isn’t “there” because the
writer was too eager to get it out in the world and sent it a draft or two too
early. And sometimes it’s because the writer doesn’t really have the ability
to pull it off. The trouble is, I can’t tell the difference so when I read one
of these I generally figure the writer hasn’t yet mastered the craft. Of
course, I may be wrong, but the script is all I have to go on. It’s the
writer’s job, IMO, to finish the script and make it sing. In addition, I often find all the
usual problems: poor character development, too much exposition, not enough
visualization, cliché scenes, etc. Oh, and for crying out loud, don’t forget
to proofread. Is it more likely for a writer to
sell a spec or to work on assignment? In the bigger scheme of things I
think the whole “calling card” thing is a crock. The fact is, studios will
only give assignments to writers who have a track record or at the very least
those who have made a splashy sale. They don’t want to squander a few hundred
thousand on someone who might not come through. Not that all A-list writers do.
Still buyers believe seasoned writers are more apt to succeed than a novice. Of course, I’m only talking
about studio assignments here. Many smaller, independent producers will hire a
writer based upon a script they’ve read. But these are usually less lucrative
assignments. Describe your dream client. She looks like Halle Berry, works
a room like Jerry Seinfeld and writes like Steve Zaillian. Sure, the writer must make a good
impression, though he or she doesn’t really have to be great looking. And of
course the writing must be unique and exemplary. He or she must be a presence in
a meeting, be comfortable around people and be able to pitch effectively. I once read an article about a
writer who didn’t feel competent to pitch his own story, so he hired Kevin
Spacey for $10,000 to take the meeting and pitch for him. The story sold. How closely do you work with your
clients? Do you offer editorial It depends on the client. Some
writers, before they start writing, run their story ideas by me to find out
whether I think I can sell them. Other writers will surprise me. I’ll call up
my email one morning and discover they’ve sent a script, sometimes one I had
no idea they were working on. Same goes for regularity of
contact with my clients. Sometimes it’s almost daily, especially if we’re in
the middle of developing a script or going out with a spec or negotiating a
sale. Other times, I won’t hear from a writer for months – and don’t need
to. But periodically, I’ll pick up the phone and ask, “Where the hell have
you been?” What's your best advice for new
screenwriters? Okay, you asked, so here’s my
honest advice: Don’t start. Seriously. New writers – and even many
with several scripts under their belts – have no idea just how
difficult it is to write something saleable. They must then find a rep to hawk
it. That rep must find an exec to champion it. That exec must convince the boss
to read it. That boss must like it enough to be willing to spend two or three
years making it. And he also must be willing risk his reputation to convince a
studio chief to make it one of the eight or ten films that studio will produce
that year. And if the writer gets that far, he or she will be
fortunate if the producer can convince and attach the right talent. Then
they’ve got to usher the project safely through the studio system and get it
greenlit without losing major attachments before principle photography starts. Of course, the shoot then has to go smoothly and the
director and editor must be both competent and on the same page. The marketing
department has to "get" the film and sell it properly to prospective
audiences. When the finished film opens, it must have sufficient buzz that
people will pay enough actual money to have the film at least break even. All
this depends much more on luck than talent. My advice: Don’t start. It
takes years and years of writing to learn this very difficult craft and
there’s no guarantee that you or anything you ever write will find success.
Even so, it’s a nightmare business filled with heartache and only those with
extreme talent AND even more extreme luck achieve any measure of success. So
take my advice: don’t do it. Anything else you'd like to add? Yes, a bit of advice from one
writer to another: Just because you think up a story, it doesn’t mean it’s
any good. Or will make for an interesting film. Or will spark anybody’s
interest. As Terry Rossio writes in his excellent Wordplay site (www.wordplayer.com),
the most important decision a writer makes is what story to tell. I hate to be so negative, but
I’ve seen so many writers lavish hours and weeks and months of effort on
really terrible ideas only to come up with crap that should have been apparent
to them had they given it some thought. So please don’t waste your time
on ideas without merit. Which one’s are those you ask? Some are easy to
identify: Ideas based on other movies. Don’t write them. Ideas using stock
characters and situations. Avoid at all costs. Ideas with such disparate
elements, they can never be melded even by the finest of writers. Why waste your
time? Other bad ideas are much harder to identify. Don’t write them either. I know a lot of you are not going
to listen to me. You’re going to write crappy stories and ask me to sell them.
But I won’t do it. I won’t. And you can’t make me. So take this advice and do with it as you will. I am not responsible. Contact Brian at OverlandLitMgt@prodigy.net. |
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