Karl is the author of The 101 Habits of Highly Successful Screenwriters.  He has worked as both a story analyst and developmental executive for several production companies.  He is also a screenwriter, freelance writer, and producer, currently at work on his first novel.  He lives in Glendale, CA.

I started out as an actor when I first got my SAG card in Boston and drove cross country to pursue "the dream" in Los Angeles <laugh>. It only took me a year to discover the realities of the movie business and how little control you have as an artist over becoming a success. Now, I’m only talking about film and TV, not theater. Talent is a minuscule factor in the equation compared to, say, becoming a theater actor in New York. If you recall the opening sequence of "Tootsie," that was basically the frustrations I endured and I heard enough stories to learn about the realities of the biz. 

And then I came across this thing called a screenplay, and realized that anyone could write one if you put the effort into it and dedicate yourself to making it as good as it could possibly be. Here, talent and perseverance equaled success. The more I learned about the craft and the business, the more I realized it was everything that I was excited about-- creating original stories, developing characters, weaving exciting, logical plotlines, researching settings... It is the most incredible feeling in the world to discover something where all the pieces of the puzzle fit together. So I became a screenwriter and still am. This led me to becoming a story analyst, which led to a couple of development executive positions and then I became an author when I got the book deal.

I initially contacted my top thirty choices through the Writers Guild. A year earlier, I was a staff volunteer at the WGA Foundation’s Words into Pictures Conference. Since they already knew me there, they were kind enough to help me out with the mailing. But I only received about three positive responses and various "Thanks but no thanks" letters. So I had to take matters into my own hands and contact writers through my own contacts, friends of friends of friends, that kind of thing, their production companies, and through their agents. I was lucky to get some big names early on because they gave me a definite stamp of approval, like "Wow, Ron Bass is in the book, this must be a serious project." After that it was easy. Gradually, I ended up with 17 writers (3 of them had to be cut from the final manuscript due to its length).

This is a good lesson for anyone who believes you have to know someone to make it in show biz. Sure, it helps if you do, but it’s not a prerequisite. There are a million ways to make it, but they all require the same thing: a great script that gets someone’s attention. Even if you happen to be Steven Spielberg’s son, you won’t make it far as a screenwriter if you can’t deliver pages. 

Look at the so-called "connected" screenwriters, such as Eric Roth, whose parents were in the industry. It was his script winning a competition that got the attention of an agent. Or Nicholas Kazan, who started writing plays in college until one of them turned into a script. But he kept writing and writing, honing his craft until one day, one of his script was good enough to excite a producer. 

As to those without connections, they took several routes: Amy Holden Jones started out as an editor until Roger Corman gave her a chance to direct, which forced her to write good scripts, Gerald DiPego wrote industrial films but kept asking every producer he could find if they knew someone who was looking for scripts, Akiva Goldsman took a McKee Story seminar, Scott Rosenberg went to film school, Tom Schulman worked for a commercial production company, and Robin Swicord wrote a play that interested a film agent. Most of the other screenwriters broke in after writing several scripts for years before they got an agent. Notice the common thread among all? No matter what route they took, they got someone interested in them because they eventually had a great script.

You just said it. It’s all about balance. Yin and Yang. Work and play. Solitude and relationships. This is very important. Writers must stay connected to the world around them. How else will they write truthfully about it? How will they write about relationships if they don’t have any? The way you balance the two worlds is by scheduling your writing time and treating it like a job. You put in your hours and then you go do other things, even if writing is the most fun you’ll ever have and you want to do it all the time, you still have to be interested in other things. For many successful screenwriters, writing is their life, but their life isn’t be all about writing.

This was something that I instinctively knew, but it was still a shock to hear it from the writers themselves, and that is more often than not, a first-time writer will be fired off the project as soon as it’s bought. Now this depends, of course, on who you’re dealing with, and I’m only talking about the studio system where a lot of dollars are at stake. 

Worst case scenario, they pay you Guild Minimum to get your script and send you off to write the treatment, then they say "Thank you very much" and hire an established writer they can count on to deliver a shooting script in 12 weeks. Best case scenario, if you’re lucky to have sold your project to a producer who respects first-time writers and believes in you, you still have to go through development and studio notes. Not all notes will be bad, and some will even make the script better. As to notes that would harm the script, the most important advice I can give is to just LISTEN to everything they say and nod your head in agreement. 

It doesn’t mean you’re selling out, but you have to be cooperative and be a team player, even when you don’t agree with them. In this case, AFTER you’ve heard what they had to say, you calmly make your point and explain why a particular point wouldn’t work, showing them the cause and effect of a particular change. They’ll listen to you if they can see the repercussion of their suggestions. There’s a lot of compromise and diplomacy involved and the writer has to pick his battles. Agree to changes that won’t damage the emotional or thematic core of the script and argue those you feel are important to fight for. If they still insist on their changes, try to accommodate them, but in your own way-- that way everyone wins. I talk more about this is greater detail under the habits of "being cooperative," "not burning your bridges when fired," and "not being difficult to work with."

Common? Yes. Show biz is such a consuming career, it’s no surprise that divorce is so prevalent among the players. But it still depends on the individual. If they are stable to begin with and are able to balance the work with the relationships, then there’s no problem, and as a matter of fact, most of the screenwriters interviewed in the book have been in long term marriages with the same partner they had when they were starting out. This is all about the balance I spoke of earlier. 

So no, most of the writers interviewed don’t feel you have to let the business become your life. Some of them did, but they purposefully were not in relationships and gave it their all because they felt they had to. The rest treated it like any other job and put in their hours even when they were starting out. They knew what was important, and they were able to balance both worlds. They knew when to walk away and pull the plug so that they could return to it the next day with fresh energy.

The very first habits explored in the book under "Portrait of a Screenwriter" are actually traits which are common among successful screenwriters, and the reason I included them as habits is because they can be developed; traits such as being creative, a natural storyteller, an acute observer, and being comfortable with solitude. Sure, many true artists are born with them, and it makes things easier. But I truly believe, with enough commitment and passion, anyone can develop these traits.

Also common among successful screenwriters is that they’re in touch with their emotions and are able to translate them onto the page; they have a wide knowledge of everything, art, history, culture and especially movies, TV, and literature. That’s why they’re able to be original in their own work; they know what’s been done before; they know what’s cliché. Successful screenwriters are curious about everything and the world around them, which makes their profession a perfect one; every three months they tackle a new project with new settings, characters, and plot lines.

Now, what I’ve also discovered is that successful screenwriters, like all successful people in general, are passionate about their craft, believe in their talents, are committed to excellence, and are incredibly self-disciplined.

When I began screenwriting, if a script got a few rejections, I'd think, "Well, this one must not be very good." Then I heard dozens of stories about great screenplays that were rejected for decades or more before getting "discovered." How, then, can a writer know whether a script is hopeless or merely hasn't found the right 'home' yet?

That’s a great question, and a very important one, because when does one decide to quit or go on? What if the producers of "Forrest Gump" decided to shelve the project after the ninth year, not realizing the tenth was it? What if George Lucas gave up on pitching "Star Wars" after most studios turned it down? The key here is how YOU feel about the project. Nicholas Kazan talks about this under the "Handling rejection" habit. He says "how do you know when to stop, and when to keep going? If you can read your script after it’s been rejected a hundred times, and it still reads great, keep going. If it doesn’t, you’ve got to be honest with yourself and believe that maybe they’re right, maybe it’s ordinary. So you forget about it and try to write an extraordinary screenplay, something you love, that’s unusual and different that will set you apart from other people."

It’s all about believing in the work, and if you believe it’s great then keep pushing. Now, you still have to listen to feedback because if they all tell you the same thing, then you have to seriously think about it. (And I’m only talking about specific symptoms, not outward rejection because they’re not interested in producing it.)

Ah, the chicken and the egg conundrum <smile>. They’re both equally valid, although in my opinion it would depend on your material. If I had a commercial property, I’d go with producers first. If I had a more personal, character driven, well-written piece that showcased my talents, I’d target agents. But if I had to advise beginners, I would tell them not to target either of them until they had at least three well-written scripts. And then, I’d tell them to enter their best script in a respected contest. If it becomes a finalist (or even makes it as low as the quarter-finals, in some contests), you’ll have agents and producers calling you, and that to me is a more pleasant position to be in. Entering a contest is also good for gauging how your script competes among others. If it can’t even place among amateur scripts, you won’t stand a chance competing among professional, agented scripts. I truly believe contests are the best way to go on several levels.

Deadlines are important because they get your juices flowing like nothing else. Writers are notorious for being the best procrastinators in the universe. Without deadlines, nothing would get written. My publisher’s deadline was the first contracted, "official" deadline I ever had, and it still amazes me how powerful and influential it was in my writing output. I had eight months to complete the manuscript but I did more writing and put in more daily hours in the last two month than in the previous six months combined. Deadlines work if you’re stuck, and unfortunately, official deadlines, i.e. imposed by the studio or publisher, are more motivational that self-imposed ones. Still, you should try giving yourself deadlines and see the results. Deadlines are the best tool I know of for getting results, especially if there’s a check at stake.

The biggest surprise, and most influential as it turned out, was to discover that no matter how successful a writer was, it didn’t change anything in the way they were treated by the industry. I mean, I knew, like everyone else, I’m sure, how writers are basically at the bottom of the ladder even though they’re the most important element in the moviemaking process. Without a script, no one has a job in this town, from the producer all the way down to the caterer. And yet, screenwriters are "used and discarded like so many wads of Kleenex," as John Gregory Dunn once said. So we’ve all heard the horror stories, but it never occurred to me that even the very top, million-dollar scribes had to deal with the disrespect and the insanity of the studio system. It was refreshing to get the real scoop from those who are in the game. A reviewer of the book said it was "full of eye-opening discussions on what life as a screenwriter is really like, the good and the horrible parts... painfully honest at times, but also incredibly encouraging." This is not an industry that caters to the sensitive artistic nature of most true writers. You really have to have a tough skin to survive. Enter the game at your own peril.

Thank you for interviewing me. I hope I was helpful in any way to anyone reading this. Oh, and buy the book. The fourteen screenwriters sharing their wisdom will be infinitely more helpful to you than I could ever be. <smile>

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