Anything Goes : WRITERS -- RESPECT YOURSELF or nobody else will! by David Victor

A MATTER OF DETERMINATION It's Your Mindset That Makes Or Breaks You by David Victor We writers have to decide a few things before embarking on a career of the pen or keyboard. The prime question that must be firmly settled in the mind of the would-be scribe or bard is: what status do I wish to hold, professional writer or part time dabbler? What is the difference, you might well ask. Pay. It couldn't be more simple. The key to the pursuit of a career as a professional writer, and this must become your First Commandment, is: don't give it away for free! And seeing your name on a screen or in print does NOT constitute appropriate compensation. If you need that kick so badly, rent a billboard, but don't let anyone sell you on the idea that you should be thankful for a bit of exposure. A writer must decide if his or her output is professional product or a self-amusement. Either choice is valid, but you must have this firmly in mind, then stick to it. Because there are so many hobbyists in the field, to make the way of the wordsmith a profession is to be in a constant struggle for respect. In my experience, as a dramatist, for stage, television and film, it's an uphill battle. The big players seem to realize the pure truth: the script IS the project. Without the script, actors have nothing to do or say, camera people don't know where to aim the lens, costumers don't know how to dress anyone, or even what fabric to buy. More importantly, without a high-caliber script, the audience has no reason to come to the cinema or theatre. The serious producer accepts this, and treats the writer accordingly. For the self-styled mogul, the Cecil B. DeMille wannabee, however, it's usually a different story. During some recent forays into review writing, I discovered, to my delight, by listening to buzz from the people, that the audience craves narrative. They may enjoy bright costumes, dazzling visuals, eye-popping special effects, but they don't leave the show talking about that great lap dissolve, or what an appropriate skirt the supporting actress wore. They want story. They're hungry for it, in fact. They've been spoonfed a lot of gruel, and they're starving for some good narrative that engages them, involves more than just parking their behinds on cushions, and gives them something to remember beyond the parking lot. But many producers treat the script like just another one of the commodities they begrudgingly must procure, somewhere on the priority list below lumber and paint for sets. Why else would many of them gladly pay all the technical (or "below the line") wages but expect the writer to throw his or her contribution into the ring for nothing? There may be some vague promise of return when the final product is completed and sold ... more often not even that. The producer does this for the same reason a dog licks itself: because it can. So long as there is a naive, neophyte writer who will jump at such an offer just to feel like part of "the biz", such abuse will go on. Another charming little device to get your work from you for free is called a "contest". Why, when they need scripts for theatre or filmmaking, do these people persist in holding a Writer's Contest? It's nothing more than just a cheap ploy to get the use of your material. The grand prize is usually production, for which they are supposed to be paying you, not vice versa. If a theatre needs a new air conditioning system in the hall, could they get away with holding a contest among the air conditioning companies in the area -- winner gets to install a complete air conditioning system in return for a mention in the program? Do lumber, paint and hardware companies scramble to compete to see who gets to give their inventory away to the local theatre or film producer? Why do they expect us writers to whip ourselves into a frenzy for the magnanimous privilege of giving our work away? Because we're dumb enough to do so. And there's an absurdly simple solution to the problem: don't. It boggles my mind why anyone would approach the very content of their precious project with such contempt and still expect it to win funding and box office success. I've made the determination that I will not stand for it. In the wonderfully succinct words of Paddy Chayefsky in his unforgettable character of Howard Beale from the film "Network": "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!" Of course, there are brave ventures out there, where someone is trying to make a film or mount a play on zero budget, volunteer spirit and good, old-fashioned elbow grease. I say: more power to 'em! My policy, when asked to participate in that kind of project, is: if it's a communal effort and purely volunteer, I'm there; but if anyone is getting paid for anything, the script's not free. It is important to remember one truism of human nature: people associate the value of something based on what they've had to pay or give up for it. If it cost them nothing, there's no sense of value or urgency about it. Therefore, if they didn't have to pay for your hard work and vision, they will attach NO value to it! Believe it. You may think that if you give them something as valuable and as paramount to the project's success as the script, they'll remain beholding to you, afford you all the respect you could wish and the next time, they'll pay you handsomely, right up front. It only makes sense in a just and honest society as ours, doesn't it? Don't hold your breath. A series of hard-knocks has brought this issue to a head for me. I had a dismal experience with a national theatre magazine in my home country of Canada. While covering summer stock absolutely for free one summer, which required a substantial output on my part, including gasoline and time to travel to the out-of-the-way theatres, I was generally treated like garbage by the editor. At editorial meetings(which I had to drive another hour each way in order to attend) the management would gripe about having to hand the printers an extra $75 to cover some printing errors, while around the table, listening to these tales of entrepreneurial woe, sat those who were supplying the magazine's very content, and receiving no compensation whatsoever. How many people are going to mail in their subscription to a magazine because they like the shade of the ink? It's the content that defines a magazine, or any other media project. This editor treated her stable of writers in a way that a volunteer in any milieu should never have to endure. I would have to be in a plumb job, earning a sizeable sum of money, to be motivated to tolerate such nonsense -- and yet I was doing this for free! Never again! In the most recent collision between my sense of self and professional esteem, I encountered a television producer who planned a series of short financial news items with a comedic flavor to them. Though this was to be produced at a major television network and he had been advertising for months for a comedy writer, it soon became clear to me that he was offering me nothing more than my name in the credits. Politely and professionally, I approached him about the money issue. His final communiqué to me contained all three of the warning signs, to which the wary writer should be attuned. First, he got angry. Allow me to digress for a moment. When I was a young announcer on radio, I got some side work in the evenings as a disc jockey in a disco (these were the seventies, and I have the garish polyester to prove it). After a shift or two, I realized that pay had never been discussed in any specific way. I was young and naive-of course, today, I would never proceed to the first step of a job without such details being clearly and unambiguously established. But many of us grow up afraid to ask for what we're worth. Some of us are still struggling with that issue to this day. During a break on the second evening, I asked the owner of the place when we were to get paid, and he responded with fury. He dashed off a measly check and told me to hit the road. Since that day, one of my first rules is to distrust anyone who shows anger simply for asking the legitimate questions about pay. It's purely an intimidation tactic and nothing more. The second telltale clue that the television producer's motives were less than honorable: he downplayed the role of the writer in his project, saying that he had financial experts writing the basic items, all he needed was a comedy writer to "beef them up a bit", therefore the comedy writer's contributions were not that important. Wait just a moment. The TV viewer can find financial advice from hundreds of different sources. Why does this producer's project even exist? Because he wants it to be done with humor -- that's the whole point of what he's doing. This makes the comedy writer's job the most significant in the project. Don't let them imply that your contribution is not important enough to warrant proper payment. Thirdly, he resorted to personal attack, labeling the samples I sent him as merely marginal. Why, Mr. Producer, would you knowingly hire "marginal"? If they offer you the job, dear writer, don't buy that you're anything less than the best they could find. Shell-shocked and battle-weary, I have developed some basic guidelines for judging whether to trust a producer or an editor in matters of pay for writing craft performed: * If you consider yourself a professional, remain one at all times, and insist on professional behavior from all you encounter, especially the person from whom the paycheck is supposed to come. * Hold your calling, your talent and your output in high esteem, or absolutely nobody else will. * Never tolerate a personal attack. It's simply meant to intimidate you into giving everything you've got for nothing in return. * Don't allow anyone to downgrade the value of your work or contribution to the project. Remember: the story IS the project. Without your work, he or she has nothing. * While it can be an honor just to be considered, that in itself does not comprise payment for your work. If you encounter this type of unprofessional behavior on the part of an engager, do not walk from such a situation -- run! I don't pretend to know why this world seems to have a love/hate relationship with its writers. Is the culture of a nation not derived from its art and, specifically, it's written texts? Have the names of theatre owners in Elizabethan England made it into our daily lexicon? No, the words of Shakespeare did. Are we inspired to great heights by the color of a book's cover or the font in which it's printed? No, we are inspired by the words of Homer, Faulkner or Hemmingway. Did we gather around the watercooler at work to discuss the lighting or camera angles used in TV's "Seinfeld"? No, we spent all that time ruminating over the latest witty lines and twists of story from that landmark show. The word's the thing. And never let anyone convince you otherwise.