Posted tagged ‘Menehune screenplay’

Dirty Water Dogs and Stub-Nosed Monkeys

May 15, 2015

Although I haven’t been posting any updates about my screenwriting projects of late, it doesn’t mean I’ve given up hope or stopped putting my stuff out there. When you’ve been at it as long as I have, you build up a body of work. If the scripts you wrote were any good, they should stand the test of time. With experience and distance from the original inspiration or catalyst that motivated you to crank out the first drafts, revisiting old material can yield fresh insights that improve the story and writing itself.

Since my last blog entry about renewed interest in my Menehune family feature script, I’ve signed a 90-day shopping agreement with a producer who is working with a Chinese multimedia company that is making low budget films in the USA. He found my Amish horror spec, SNALLYGASTER, on the Jason Scoggins Spec Scout site (free listings) and liked it because he grew up near Pennsylvania Dutch country, where my script is set. I used that producer’s interest to prod a small prodco to get back to me on my Muslim baby/doll murder mystery suspense script — and over the weekend, their director of development read it after he got back very good coverage from their readers. Now the doll script is also being shopped to distributors through the prodco. That lead came through the Inktip weekly e-newsletters (also free). And via another Inktip e-newsletter request for scripts, I got a producer request for a big budget sci-fi spec I cowrote.

I also continue to enter screenwriting contests while I’m still eligible — that is, I haven’t made enough from options or an outright sale to disqualify me. I’m in that lull stage where you have to wait… then wait some more for news. I don’t want to jinx anything by pestering the prodcos for updates, and cling to the hope that no news is a good sign that those projects are still in play. The benefit of being a more “experienced” writer (old guy) is I don’t lose sleep over it anymore. I get on with my life. Instead of thinking about my prospects of selling, I’m more reflective of my solitary place in the universe and how small we all are in the grand scheme of things.

The other day while jogging to the beach, I counted my blessings and my mind drifted to dirty water hotdogs in New York City, where I misspent a good portion of my 20s before escaping to my present home in Hawaii. In spite of the jokes about the dangers of scarfing down those boiled frankfurters plucked out of the battered, weathered street carts, there was something I liked about the consistency and taste of those onions simmered in a red sauce that to this day, I cannot identify. It was the ideal hangover food after a night of partying and heavy drinking would leave me with less than three bucks in my wallet. No matter where the hot dog cart was — Downtown, Upper West Side/East Side, the Village or Soho — they always tasted the same.

Back then though, I never stopped to think about it much: how immigrants brought these sausages to the New Land, and renamed them for Americans; or the newer immigrants who took over the hot dog carts and introduced other foods from their respective countries; what it took for them to get that beat-up cart; where they got the red sauce recipe from — or was it sold by the originator? So, after my jog, I showered and Googled hot dogs and the red onion sauce recipe. Found some interesting tidbits too!

Snub-nosed Monkey19The dirty water dog memory stirred up a more recent image I recalled from watching a PBS Nature show about an orphaned snub-nosed monkey I identified with. I wasn’t abandoned and left to fend for myself like that poor little monkey, yet my days as a young bachelor in NYC, longing for connection and love, often left me feeling painfully alone. Drinking and partying was part of my survival mode. I convinced myself I didn’t need anyone, or their approval. In some ways, you could say it toughened me up for the inevitable rejections I would later have to endure as a writer. But damn, at the end of that nature show, I was really pulling for that cute little snub-nosed creature to find a friend and reconnect with his missing mother. And I think about that young lonely man, dressed in his business suit with day old razor stubble, savoring a warm hot dog with red onions, with no clue as to what the future might hold for him. Selling a screenplay was the farthest thing from his mind.

Advertisements

Proof of Concept

April 3, 2015

Before I pick up where I left off about my nearly disastrous presentation at the Global Virtual Studio Transmedia Boardroom Pitch in Kona, here’s some script sales news you can use: in the past couple of weeks I’ve seen at least two movie and TV deals that were attributed to “proof of concept” — a term I first heard in conjunction with high tech startups. But now that TV and film projects are becoming more franchise-driven commercial enterprises, it makes sense that investors are embracing the same “show, don’t tell” demo model for movies and TV shows.

An example of this would be THE LEVIATHAN teaser posted on AICN. You may recall that Neill Blomkamp, who is attached as exec producer, did the same thing with his DISTRICT 9 short, which then became a full blown feature. Proof of concept is just another term for movie teaser or short film that is meant to entice producers to invest in the filmmaker’s vision. I think all aspiring screenwriters — even book writers — should be thinking the same way, and coming up with their own creative, doable proof of concept pitches to promote their projects. It could be as simple as a sample book cover or movie poster. Or as elaborate as a short high def video with all the bells and whistles of a feature film. It might be a combination of text, images and video… say, a Powerpoint presentation.

Which is what I did at the GVS Boardroom event. Some of the other presenters had actual film footage to show. Others made short trailers to partially pitch their multimedia or transmedia projects — smart because they didn’t have to fumble through as much “live” talking as I did. The allotted five-minutes is not a lot of time to include everything they wanted: the elevator pitch (logline or premise); a synopsis of the story; how you would monetize the franchise; why you feel the market “needs” your product; and something about yourself. Still, I thought I had it all covered in the Powerpoint I put together the week before the pitch.

First mistake: just because you write something and read it to yourself, do NOT assume you can wing it when the lights come on. My excuse for not memorizing my pitch and practicing it out loud was lack of time. Another dumb excuse was that I didn’t want to sound too “rehearsed.” I figured if I got stuck, all I had to do was look at my PP slides and read the “notes” section on my laptop that the audience doesn’t see on the big screen.

Except when we did our practice run-through in the Kona studio, they had their own set-up for any media being used. There was no laptop screen on the podium, just a keyboard or clicker to advance the slides. They did tell us we could use our own laptop, but my screen was too small to read the notes and I didn’t want to put on reading glasses, since I already look old enough as is. However, I did print out my PP notes in large type just in case I couldn’t use my laptop PP Presenter’s View option.

So I’m standing at the podium facing over 5o empty chairs, plus two long tables in front of me for the panelists who would be giving us feedback and asking questions about our franchise pitches. To my right, slightly behind me is the big screen to display the PP slides. To my left, sitting at the end of the panelist table is a GVS staffer holding a digital clock showing us exactly how much time we have left. Also, there are cameras that are going to be trained on us since we will be shown on the video screens as well. The first three presenters get through their practice pitches without much problem.

Then it’s my turn. I hate public speaking or getting in front of groups. That’s one reason I’m a writer. My gut is churning, I haven’t eaten for hours because I’m afraid it might come back up at an inopportune moment due to nerves. I purposely wear an aloha shirt with a black background to hide my armpit sweat stains. Yet I smile and exude fake confidence as I recite my opening from memory while clicking to the next slide… I turn to look back at the screen — that’s not the right slide! Click again. No, no, no. Try to back click. There is a delay in the clicker that I didn’t know about, and now I’m off track. I glance to my left and see the staff holding up the clock, and I’m running out of time. I try to jump ahead in my presentation, but it’s hopeless.

I can feel the pity from the other seven presenters and the GVS staff who watch helplessly as I flounder. After I step down, they all assure me it will be okay. The remaining presenters get through their pitches just fine. I’m the only one asked to stay after they’re done to try it again. This time I ditch the clicker and use the keyboard arrows to advance the slide, which works better for me. Still, what I’ve written in my notes is way too long now that I’m reading it out loud.

For a few moments, while the panelists and audience members took their seats, I considered bailing. My excuse would be I wasn’t feeling well. But years of rejections, being picked on as a kid, being told I wasn’t big enough to play sports (then making the football team) or good enough as a screenwriter to advance in contests (then winning and placing in a bunch) had prepared me for this. I got up and did it. It wasn’t perfect. Still, the panelists said they loved the concept and that once I stopped reading from my notes, my passion and knowledge came through very well.

And here’s the kicker: the Boardroom pitch wasn’t meant to be anything other than a means to get feedback from people with investment backgrounds, which could help the presenters when it’s time to apply for the GVS Transmedia Accelerator program later this year. However, the following day after I returned to Oahu, I got an email from an audience member. It turns out she loved the pitch for my Menehunes movie franchise — and she has connections in the entertainment industry. Stay tuned!