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Abstract

ng,” which is exactly what it sounds like.Oh, the “pitch.” Nowadays, reaching out to a manager or producer is as easy as putting together a compelling eQuery, unearthing their work email address and firing it off. I cannot imagine the process of peddling my blood, sweat and tears if it had to be done via snail mail.The immediacy of querying is pretty crazy. The speed at which you can receive either a “Sorry, not for me,” or “Send it,” is almost breathtaking. Then again, you may not get a reply for a week, a month, or ever.This is a good time to talk about “rejection.” If you truly can’t stand to be rejected — and I can’t stress this enough — know that, in attempting to become the next Quentin Tarantino or Aaron Sorkin, your self confidence, at times, will take a deep, deep dive. So deep, you’ll want to quit. But, if you truly want this, and only you know the answer, hang in there.I’m lucky in that, as an advertising and marketing writer my whole career, I’m adept at pitching ideas and having them either well-received, or crapped on. I can take rejection, as I’ve learned that everything is subjective, when you’re dealing with a range of clients.I imagine the fear of having one’s creative output rejected is significantly more intense for someone who works in, say, a bank, or other corporate environment, and then goes home and tries to write.<figure id="0fac"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*qufwJoJVY-93rYJFP8CT3g.jpeg"><figcaption>Uncredited/Free-Images.Com</figcaption></figure>Let me stress: I don’t like to be rejected. But, I’m not knocked flat, when I am.Regarding subjectivity, I discovered that,

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in the same way my clients were “fickle,” in their likes and dislikes, so, I learned, is the entertainment industry.What a producer might think is dreck one day, could turn out to be the next Citizen Kane, six months later. Bizarre, I know, but the truth.For Undone, I reached out to an independent producer/manager, a great gal who I’m still in contact with. She loved the project and took me on as a client.“A” started pitching Undone to her connects, one of who was Antonio Banderas’ agent, at the time.The agent passed the pilot along to Banderas, whose then-wife, Melanie Griffith was looking for new projects.As it turned out, Griffith and her “people” loved Undone. I was alternately thrilled and nonplussed, as she was the last actress I would have imagined in the lead. But, who the hell was I? A nobody. And, for a nobody, this was a big deal.<figure id="ccb2"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*WEmGuxuBYC-Pb4kXkSGWcw.jpeg"><figcaption>Uncredited/Free-Images.Com</figcaption></figure>There were emails and more emails. Back and forth. Forth and back. For a while, it really seemed like Undone would be green-lit. Little did I know that, in the entertainment industry, it doesn’t take much to shipwreck a project.Next up: “Will you, or won’t you?”Sherry McGuinn is a 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 manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.</article></body>

So You Wanna Be A Screenwriter?

Part 2: Time to start pitching.

Okay. After devouring everything I could about how to become a screenwriter, I felt sufficiently confident to take a crack at it. I began work on the “pilot episode” of Undone.

Seems pretty cut and dried, right? The reality is, when you write for television, you can’t just toss out a script and then call it a day.

The creation of what is called the “Bible” for a TV show is essential. This usually consists of the script itself, a synopsis, character breakdowns, a one-page pitch and, very important, brief descriptions of subsequent episodes so a producer can understand the trajectory of your story. It must have “legs” as no one is going to want to finance a “one and done.”

When I wrote Undone, I knew that breaking into television is a lot tougher than getting a feature script produced. There are a myriad of reasons for this, chief among them: You must get the attention of a “show runner,” who will, well…run the show. In essence, the executive producer, who will also take all control away from you and rewrite everything. I’m only half kidding.

I was undeterred, though. I believed television was where I belonged and have since written five pilots in all. That said, I’ve migrated to feature films and, at this juncture, anyway, the big screen is is where I want to stay.

Back to Undone. After I finished writing the pilot episode and Bible, I started the process of pitching, or “querying,” which is exactly what it sounds like.

Oh, the “pitch.” Nowadays, reaching out to a manager or producer is as easy as putting together a compelling eQuery, unearthing their work email address and firing it off. I cannot imagine the process of peddling my blood, sweat and tears if it had to be done via snail mail.

The immediacy of querying is pretty crazy. The speed at which you can receive either a “Sorry, not for me,” or “Send it,” is almost breathtaking. Then again, you may not get a reply for a week, a month, or ever.

This is a good time to talk about “rejection.” If you truly can’t stand to be rejected — and I can’t stress this enough — know that, in attempting to become the next Quentin Tarantino or Aaron Sorkin, your self confidence, at times, will take a deep, deep dive. So deep, you’ll want to quit. But, if you truly want this, and only you know the answer, hang in there.

I’m lucky in that, as an advertising and marketing writer my whole career, I’m adept at pitching ideas and having them either well-received, or crapped on. I can take rejection, as I’ve learned that everything is subjective, when you’re dealing with a range of clients.

I imagine the fear of having one’s creative output rejected is significantly more intense for someone who works in, say, a bank, or other corporate environment, and then goes home and tries to write.

Let me stress: I don’t like to be rejected. But, I’m not knocked flat, when I am.

Regarding subjectivity, I discovered that, in the same way my clients were “fickle,” in their likes and dislikes, so, I learned, is the entertainment industry.

What a producer might think is dreck one day, could turn out to be the next Citizen Kane, six months later. Bizarre, I know, but the truth.

For Undone, I reached out to an independent producer/manager, a great gal who I’m still in contact with. She loved the project and took me on as a client.

“A” started pitching Undone to her connects, one of who was Antonio Banderas’ agent, at the time.

The agent passed the pilot along to Banderas, whose then-wife, Melanie Griffith was looking for new projects.

As it turned out, Griffith and her “people” loved Undone. I was alternately thrilled and nonplussed, as she was the last actress I would have imagined in the lead. But, who the hell was I? A nobody. And, for a nobody, this was a big deal.

There were emails and more emails. Back and forth. Forth and back. For a while, it really seemed like Undone would be green-lit. Little did I know that, in the entertainment industry, it doesn’t take much to shipwreck a project.

Next up: “Will you, or won’t you?”

Sherry McGuinn is a 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 manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.