Writers, Don’t Pay to Pitch Your Work

When shelling out feels like selling out

You can take the following with a grain of salt, or not. But, I’m going to be honest with what I think is yet another kick to the posterior that we writers have to endure.

And please know that this is not news. I’m writing about it now as I’ve nearly reached my tipping point. Also, keep in mind that this rant is coming from a screenwriter’s perspective. As I’ve not yet taken the deep dive into writing a book, although I keep thinking about it, I would love to hear if you novelists have experienced the same, unsettling sensation of strange hands reaching into your pockets to bestow upon you the ultimate compliment. A consent to read your work.

You got the dough? You get the read. Easy peasy.

What rocketed me over the cliff today was my underwhelming performance on a well-known site for screenwriters and other film industry folk called The Black List, which hosts screenplays that (writers fervently hope) get perused by producers, agents, and managers. Hosting is not free. The fee is $30 a month, per script.

For eighteen years, I’ve been resisting the lure of posting one of my screenplays because I’ve never wanted to pay to play! Nor do I believe in it. Plus, I’ve had a few reps along the way and it was their job to promote my work. Mine was to write, not sell.

But, a few weeks ago, I felt my self-confidence damped by the dreaded emotional wallop known as “flop sweat,” and decided, out of desperation to take a shot at The Black List. I aimed to try it for one month and then see how things panned out.

The script I posted was The Month We Fell Apart, elements of which I’ve shared here on Medium. Here is the logline, or “elevator pitch.”

A strong-willed woman’s rocky relationship with her parents turns revelatory when all three receive a life-altering diagnosis.

It’s a drama with dark, comedic overtones.

So, I shelled out the thirty bucks and posted a pdf of the script after filling out all the necessary categories like budget, location, number of characters, and tons of other tags. This took a considerable amount of time on its own.

Let’s think about the “budget” tag for a moment. You can go “Indie,” aka, cheap, somewhere in the $1.5 to $2 million arena, take the middling route, or go big budget. What’s the right answer here, folks? Especially if you have no idea?

Now, I know that I’d want a “name” for my lead. No exceptions. I worked too hard, too long and I know what this screenplay could be worth in the right hands.

With that said, screenwriters like myself are taking a shot in the dark. No matter the amount of money we post for our “budget,” we’re going to turn someone off. Too low, it’s a cheapie featuring a bunch of wannabes. Too high and you’re veering into Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep territory. Although, they’ve been known to take on roles written by up-and-comers.

Thank you, Tom and Meryl.

I waited a week before I logged back onto the site to see how my script was faring. Although, already, I had the sense it was tanking as I hadn’t received any email alerts telling me that some Hollywood hotshot had downloaded it.

And, my instinct was correct. Zero views.

As I’m not an idiot, I know a script like mine is a harder sell as it’s actually about real fucking people. People with feelings and emotions and bad shit that knocks them flat as it does nearly every person on this planet.

There are no superheroes (to speak of), pyrotechnics, animation, or anything of the sort. It’s a thinking person’s script.

I decided to just let it go and not obsess over the damned thing like I do everything else.

And then I received the missive that The Month We Fell Apart had auto-renewed for another month and another thirty bucks!

Shit! Where did the time go?

“Okay,” I figured. “Sixty bucks isn’t so bad.”

But still, nothing happened. No reads, no views, no downloads. Crickets. And then, I got it! I’d already known what was going on but I was in denial.

I had to face facts. No one had viewed my script because I hadn’t shelled out the money to get one of The Black List’s “readers” to give it a look. Son of a bitch, I’m an idiot, as it took more than a month for me to get that no one gives a crap about an unreviewed project. It just sits on the site in a dust heap.

The cost for having a stranger, who may possess the IQ of a cane toad, rate your blood, sweat, and tears is $75 for a feature and $50 for a half-hour pilot.

The rating, as I understand it is a one to ten deal. Get a low score and you might as well go back to fetching Chai Lattes for your corporate asshole of a boss. Get a seven or higher and you can pee your pants with joy.

To its credit, The Black List will Tweet out the scripts that are highly rated. But here’s where it gets spotty. If your script receives a seven or eight, it is encouraged that you pay for yet another review by another virtual stranger, to get a higher rating. Why? In the hope that you’ll finally be recognized by an agent or manager looking for a new dupe to add to their slate. When you start adding up the money, it’s considerable. To this writer, at least.

If solicitation like this doesn't prey on a writer’s hopes and dreams, I don’t know what does. I suppose that, if you have the dough and don’t mind shelling it out based on a wing and a prayer, then sites like The Black List are a viable option. And there are probably a notable number of writers who’ve “made it” going this route.

Note that I am not thoroughly bashing The Black List as it is one of the more reputable sites of its kind, but, good rep or not, it still comes down to the moolah. How much will you shell out and how far will you go to chase that carrot? Where does it end?

For me, I just cannot pay to play. In my heart of hearts, I have to believe there’s a better way. I understand that everyone has to make a living but, as I said, you’re putting your faith in a stranger who may not appreciate stories with a cancer element, like mine, or horror, or romcom, or any genre that doesn’t suit their very particular sensibilities. That’s quite a leap of faith is it not?

Or, maybe they’re having a shitty day and are pissed off that their own script, sucks. So, they’ll break your heart, in a heartbeat.

Maybe that’s why I’m still struggling to be recognized. But I refuse to regularly dip into our household coffers and pad the pockets of those who may or may not be able to “hook me up.”

If nothing else, these fees should be more affordable so that a greater number of writers could “play.” Instead of $30 a month to host a script, how about $20, or even $15?

And, instead of $75 for coverage by the assistant to an assistant, how about capping it at $35?

I realize that I’m just tossing out numbers here, but I’m trying to be helpful.

Is it not crystal-clear that I’m trying to be helpful?

I have to pause here and say that, as much flack, as I’ve thrown at Medium in the past, I feel fortunate to have the opportunity to write what I want, when I want for a monthly pittance. Alright. Enough pandering.

There are other entities aside from The Black List that charge a few for hosting and reviewing work, like Ink Tip and Spec Scout.

Too, there are those entrepreneurs and companies who don’t host scripts but will connect a screenwriter with an industry “player,” again, for a fee. My inbox is inundated with these breathless queries to “shell it out and get the opportunity to play with the Creative Executive who was this close to setting up a sequel to ‘Bad Grandmas!’”

I’m not exaggerating. No top-level film exec is going to suss out projects in this manner. How many bona fide industry people are going to search for the next David O. Russell on Spec Scout?

Maybe I’m missing out, by not shelling out. But, at some point, we writers of all genres, have to think more of ourselves. Enough to where we can confidently say to someone scouting for new talent for a price, “You should be paying ME for the privilege of reading MY work.”

And only then, do we play.

© Sherry McGuinn, 2021. All Rights Reserved.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s soon-to-be-ex-manager is currently NOT pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

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