Novelists, Meet Filmmakers. Filmmakers, Novelists

By R.S. Mellette

Right now, there seem to be two schools of production in Hollywood – those companies that make movies based on short stories or novels, and those that don't. I haven't run the numbers, but I'll bet dollars to doughnuts that the first group is doing a lot better than the second.

The companies making films based on published properties tend to be either major studios or mid- to upper-end independents. A few of these companies started as uber-indies and were smart enough to acquire published work, and are now playing in the big leagues. Temple Hill with the Twilight series comes to mind.

But most uber-indie production companies don't mess with published works. I know this because I've been a screener and/or programmer for the Dances With Films Festival in Los Angeles since 2001. I can't tell you the number of submissions I've screened where I think, <em>why did the filmmakers decide to tell THIS story</em>?

I'm also a novelist. I have novelist friends all over the world who have wonderful stories they've told on paper. They would love to see these works made into films, but they’re completely baffled by the filmmaking community.

This article is intended to help both sides bridge the gap, meet each other, and hopefully work together on mutually beneficial projects.

I'll start with the filmmakers:

Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to think long and hard about why you chose filmmaking as a career. Deep down in your soul, is the answer to that question, "I want to make movies," or "I want to tell stories?"

Don't cheat. If you had to choose between just making movies and just telling stories, which would it be?

Knowing thousands of filmmakers, I have a feeling that most would never give up the set. They love the sweat, pressure, art, camaraderie, adrenaline, thrill, and insanity of making movies. Creating the story on the blank page is secondary to making the story come to life, and that's fine. That's why you're filmmakers.

Sure, some would rather gouge out their eyes than make someone else's story, but most are just as happy to make any story – as long as it's good, or the pay is high.

So, filmmakers, don't feel like you must also be the story creator. You're a storyteller, for sure. No doubt about it, but you don't have to tell a story that you created. Better that you should find someone who has the same passion facing the blank page that you have facing an eager cast &amp; crew.

That someone might be a screenwriter, sure, but many screenwriters have the same answer to the "why did you get into this business?" question as you do. So many of them – even some very good ones – want to make movies more than they want to tell stories. If you ever do take a meeting with a screenwriter, tell them you're not going to make the movie, you're just going to publish their story. See how they react.

Novelists, on the other hand, are 100 percent pure storytellers. Their passion is what they've put on the page. Your turning it into a living, breathing thing is wonderful, mostly because it means more people will be exposed to their story. And, let's not lie, they'd also be into increased royalties, participation deals, etc.

But their passion is the page, not the stage.

Now to novelists:

Men and women of letters. There is no way around it, filmmaking - as both a business and an art - is a social endeavor. Film sets have been accurately compared to a royal court. Navigating them can be hazardous to your health.

Still, the best way to meet filmmakers is not when they are dressed nice, celebrating the premiere of their film at a festival, but when they are covered in blood, sweat, and tears while working as a Third Assistant Director on someone else's project.

Why? The filmmaker who has just premiered has two years of trying to sell that movie to the public before they can even think about their next film.

They also have a slew of people who have been pitching them like crazy, and they've burned all their favors on that first film. The second one will be ten times more difficult to launch.

Meanwhile, the hardworking crew of that film are owed some favors. If they want to step up to the plate as a producer/director, their chance is next. You just have to hope they didn't answer "to tell my stories," to the question of why they got into this business.

But how do you get on the set? How do you get to meet filmmakers when all they do is work on each other's projects and go to festivals?

That's easy. Every film needs people. From extras to PAs (Production Assistants), filmmaking is social because it takes so many people make them. And there's more good news.

Because of the availability of cheap, high-quality, digital cameras, you don't have to live in Los Angeles or New York to find a filmmaking community. Chances are, there is a filmmaking group in whatever town you live in.

Hit the internet, find them, and join up. If you do live in a filmmaking hub, and you can afford to take a low-paying job, sign up to be an extra. The pay is terrible for non-union (and the work isn't readily available for union), but you're usually fed well and it's a lot of fun.

But what do you do once you're on the set, or in a meeting of filmmakers at a group? First, don't try to be what you're not! The industry is full of those people.

Don't tell anyone you're a screenwriter. Everyone is a screenwriter. They need another screenwriter like the Sahara needs more sand.

Just tell the truth. You're a novelist. You don't know anything about filmmaking, but you'd like to meet some filmmakers to maybe talk about some projects. I think you'll find filmmakers think novelists are as mysterious as you think filmmakers are.

Okay, novelists have a way to meet filmmakers, but how do filmmakers meet novelists?
Filmmakers. Novelists write. They also read. If you're going to reach out to a novelist, you're going to need to read them.

But your buying all the best sellers and slogging your way through them until you find a writer you like is just like a novelist trying to network with a major filmmaker. The big novelists don't need your uber-indie eager help with their major works.

So what's the answer?

Short stories. Anthologies. You can get to know ten to fifteen authors reading an anthology in the time it takes to read one novel. And if you reach out to pretty much any author with, "I read your short story…" you will immediately have their attention.

Short stories are like short films. They are a labor of love. Sure, they might also be a way of testing out an idea, or just getting something done, but just like your short films, they are gems that you never forget.

I often call Elephant's Bookshelf Press the Sun Records of publishing. Just the way Sam Phillips discovered Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, etc. Matt Sinclair has published <a href="http://www.stevencarman.com/">Steven Carman</a>, <a href="http://rclewisbooks.com/books/">R.C. Lewis</a>, Robert K. Lewis (well, actually Don M. Vail), <a href="http://www.mindymcginnis.com/">Mindy McGinnis</a>, and many more.

Are they as big in the writing world as Sam's discoveries are in music? No. Not yet. If they were, you wouldn't be able to work with them. But they are just as talented.

Filmmakers, if you're looking for a story to tell, anthologies are a good place to start. <em>Roller Ball</em>, <em>Running Man</em>, <em>Stand By Me</em>, <em>Breakfast at Tiffany's</em>, <em>Brokeback Mountain</em>, <em>Children of the Corn</em>, and so many more feature films started life as short fiction. Fire up the Kindle app on your phone, download some anhologies, and get reading. EBP is a good place to start. When you find a writer you like, reach out. You never know what beautiful friendship might begin.

R.S. Mellette is the author of Billy Bobble Makes a Magic Wand and Billy Bobble and the Witch Hunt, both from Elephant's Bookshelf Press. He also has written several short stories that have appeared in EBP anthologies.

Book Review: The Art of Film Funding

This review, which I wrote, appeared previously on a different Web site. If you want the link to the original, please leave a comment below and I will contact you directly. If you want me to view it without publishing your name, I'll gladly do that. I keep no list of readers, so I won't sell it anywhere.

So you have a great idea for a movie? Join the club. The more important question is do you have the means to produce it.

In The Art of Film Fundraising, Carole Lee Dean explains that it's not enough to have a great script or a visionary director. "If you don't have funding, you don't have a film," she writes. "You might be able to pull off a small project with the help of [credit cards], but if you do not learn the art of funding, your film career is going to be very short."

While many books on film funding focus on whether a film should be made, Dean's book assumes that the reader has already answered that question in the affirmative. With that out of the way, she then poses ten questions (Why are you the right person to make the film? How many hours per week can you put into the film?) that potential filmmakers should ask themselves to determine whether they are truly committed to seeing a project through to completion.

In her book, Dean, who has produced more than a hundred television programs and started From the Heart Productions, a 501(c)(3) organization dedicated to funding films that are "unique and make a contribution to society," discusses the myriad ways to finance a film, including a detailed section on foundation grants. And while the book focuses exclusively on fundraising for film projects, the lessons Dean shares with her readers are more broadly applicable:

o Know who your potential funders are;
o Develop a strategy based on each individual funder;
o Keep your options open and seek multiple sources and types of support;
o View rejections as opportunities to learn and improve.

Throughout, Dean includes excerpts of her conversations with professional filmmakers, who provide a practitioner's perspective on the realities and technical aspects of filmmaking. The interviews not only provide useful tips but also illustrate how filmmaking has changed over the last couple of decades, as well as why fundraising for filmmakers is more important today than it was fifteen to twenty years ago. She asks filmmaker Morrie Warshawski, for example, where the best place to look for funding is, to which Warshawski replies: "It is too big a question to answer generally. If you are making an independent narrative feature film, you probably don't want to go to private foundations. On the other hand, if you are making a social issue documentary, then you absolutely do want to go to private foundations."

The book is divided into easy-to-follow chapters on such topics as what to include in a film proposal, how to research funders and write grant applications, and how and what to look for from individuals and businesses. Indeed, Dean's recommendations tend to be straightforward and practical (e.g., invite potential donors to fundraising parties at which snippets of a film in progress are shown), and the book often reads like a collection of helpful magazine articles rather than a book.

If Dean had simply published the book's fifty-page appendix of Web links, contact names, addresses, phone numbers, and other resources, The Art of Film Fundraising would be a valuable resource. But with all the additional information she provides, Dean has put together a toolkit that any independent filmmaker or nonprofit looking to produce a documentary film will want to keep close at hand.