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You can learn most of the nitty-gritty
you would like to know about our companies, who we are and what we do
from the websites: www.aeionline.com
and www.thewriterslifeline.com. Just to preface, a few broad strokes…
AEI stands for Atchity Entertainment International. Ken Atchity is co-founder
and chairman of AEI and The Writers Lifeline. Again, you can find his
complete biography on the site. Chi-Li Wong is the co-head and President
of AEI, and Andrea McKeown is co-head and President of WLL. AEI and WLL
are sister companies, working hand-in-hand to achieve similar purposes
with different strategies: one represents writers whose stories are ready
to sell, the other makes their stories ready.
Both companies are dedicated to one purpose: helping writers tell great
stories. Be it a script, teleplay, treatment, novel, non-fiction book,
graphic novel, electronic entertainment (in other words – video games),
internet – what have you – we feel a great story translates into any and
all media. A great book makes a great script, a great script makes a great
TV series, and so on.
The Writers Lifeline helps writers with great stories bring their projects
up to their best saleable potential by pairing them with editors who develop
the writers’ craft. This is a paid service, and well worth it. Let me
explain why: Hollywood (and the film industry as a whole) is the most
competitive marketplace in the world. Writers and their representatives
have only a limited number of shots at getting their projects read and
considered. By extrapolation, every writer has a limited number of shots
at proving to the professional entertainment industry that they are worth
everyone’s valuable time. It’s imperative that you represent yourself
with the best possible work the first time around. By having a professional
editor in your corner, you’re exponentially increasing the chances of
moving your writing career forward. As a trainer is to the Olympic athlete
or the acting coach to a performer, an editor brings out the best in the
writer and material. I speak mostly of scripts, as that’s where most of
my experience lies, but the New York publishing industry is just as ferocious.
AEI is a management/production company like others in the film and publishing
industry. Meaning this – we represent writers, sell their product, negotiate
contracts and do everything we can to bring their work to publication
and/or film. In the current industry climate, managers have the power
to do almost everything agents do (agents still hold sway in getting writers
hired to existing TV shows). However, we also produce. When we
sell a script, AEI collects a standard percentage commission fee, then
takes the next step and begins producing the project.. If and when the
script goes into production, we refund the original sales commission
to the writer, for we’ll then be collecting a producer’s fee from the
buyers (i.e. the studio). As producers, we can champion our clients from
both sides of the production table, while doing everything we can to make
the project a reality.
Many of our clients come from The Writers Lifeline. However, let me make
this perfectly clear: you do not have to pay money for AEI representation.
If you are confused, please feel free to re-read the previous sentence.
AEI and WLL are related but separate companies. AEI acquires clients from
all the standard sources other agencies and management companies use,
as well as WLL. We like to consider WLL our “farm team,” a place where
players are made ready for “prime time.”
AEI also has Associate Managers throughout the country and world. Their
primary goal is finding writers and projects through their local contacts
and keeping an eye on the local scene – they’re our eyes and ears in the
trenches outside LA.
My official gig is Assistant Manager – Film. I help Ken and Chi-Li find,
develop and market film and television projects.
I have several strategies for finding exciting new projects. I spend a
lot of time lurking around online in the screenwriters’ sites and forums.
I attend pitch fests, screenwriters’ expos, writers’ groups and my own
alumni functions. I also evaluate the scripts that come in from client
referrals, industry referrals (attorneys, agents, publishers, producers,
studios), from WLL, from our Associate Managers, and from client recommendations.
Since I work for AEI, I’m looking for projects that are ready or almost
ready for the market. I typically read two or three scripts a day, more
on the weekends, plus books we’re considering for translation into a script.
When we find a project that’s ready or almost ready and sign the writer,
I’m primarily involved in the early rounds of development. Frequently,
the script is great, but needs some cleaning up, has some holes in story,
plot and character, or could just be improved in some way. Because I also
track what the rest of Hollywood is doing, we also try to steer projects
away from aspects that are very close to something that just sold with
a lot of fanfare or went into pre-production. In those cases, we want
to avoid a situation in which your script is getting ignored because it’s
“just like such and such.” When a script is just about there, I’ll kick
it up to Ken and Chi-Li, who roll up their sleeves and offer their own
set of notes. A script typically goes through several rewrites before
we take it out and try to sell it. (These notes, by the way, are part
of AEI’s service to its clients, and are not charged for—they’re what
you’d get at any good management company or agency, when your project
is good-enough or almost-good-enough for prime-time.)
In marketing, I write the supporting materials that go out to the buyers:
sell sheets, letters, treatments, etc. I also put together the target
lists, in which we determine the companies for which a given script would
be best, who personally would be interested in the script, and who has
a track record of buying and producing scripts in a given genre. For instance,
we tend to target a certain set of companies for action scripts, others
for romantic comedies, and so on. There is a lot of crossover, as few
companies are dedicated to only one genre (i.e. Dark Castle). When we
actually go out with a script, I keep a careful log of whom we called,
to whom we send a script, when everything happens, and their responses.
Between sales, I help AEI establish good relations and allies throughout
the industry by setting up meetings and sending out projects on which
we could team with a production company or agency.
In addition to all else, I do my best to stay on top of everything that’s
going on in the industry and film world at large. I read the trades, film
and specialty publications, log reviews, keep an eye on the film/entertainment
websites (both professional and fan sites) and see as many movies as I
can. If I don’t get a chance to see a film, I want to at least know who
made it, who was in it, what kind of business it did, what the reviewers
(and fans) had to say and how it came up through production.
Last, but certainly not least, I do what I can to maintain good relationships
with our clients: reading and critiquing their work, encouraging their
efforts, listening to their artistic and marketing feedback and communicating
our continuing efforts. We hunt as much for good writers as good scripts.
A writer who is easy to work with, likes to write and is continually inspired
is the greatest resource in the world. We love to hear the words, “I just
want to be the best I can be.”
A few side notes I think are of value to writers looking for representation:
On Queries
Always start with a query. Query letters are not only the first step in
your efforts to bring your work to the world, they’re also your first
introduction as a writer. Keep your query short – half a page is best,
though I’ve seen a few good ones that are a full page. Include a log line,
a one-paragraph summary of the project and a paragraph or so about yourself.
By “about yourself,” I’m mostly interested in your professional industry
background: if you’ve sold or optioned other scripts, worked in the film
or television industry, won contests, written professionally, any school
or training as a writer, etc. I’m only interested in personal information
if it pertains to the project – for example, if your script is set in
the world of professional wrestling and you were involved in that world
for ten years, or you’re best friends with a wrestler, etc. Always
type a query; I throw hand-written queries in the trash. We don’t
mind email queries, but all the same rules apply. Don’t spend time telling
me it’s a great script/idea/movie – we’ll be the judge. Don’t tell me
you absolutely need to sell a script right now for a million dollars because
little Suzi has a tapeworm and you can’t afford the operation. And, for
the love of all that is good and holy, spell check and refine your
query. That one page is the first example of your writing. If you
can’t be bothered to take the time to fix the typos and put a sentence
together, I’ll correctly assume that you’ve approached to 100 or so pages
of your script with the same laziness and lack of respect for my time
and your craft. Short, sweet and professional.
On Sending a Script
Send a script only if I’ve asked to read it, and only if it includes everything
I need to read it, and only if it’s typed in Scriptware or First Draft.
Always follow submission guidelines: in our case, a short synopsis,
cover letter and a signed standard submission form downloaded from our
website. Treat the cover letter like the query: short and sweet. Only
include other materials if they’re pertinent to the script (i.e. if it’s
adapted from a stage play you wrote, you could drop in a handbill from
the play’s production). Only include materials or information about yourself
if they’re pertinent to your script or writing career (i.e. an interview,
a list of awards, etc.)
If you want the script back when I’m done reading it, include an envelope
and sufficient postage. Otherwise it’s going in the trash. This is standard
practice.
On Responding
As you can see from the above, I have a lot of stuff to do in the course
of an average day. I typically work 10-15 hours a day, seven days a week.
I get to new queries and material as soon as I can, which unfortunately
sometimes takes weeks or months. Our existing clients and projects always
take precedence and, if there is a lot going on with them, I have to put
new ideas/writers/scripts on the backburner until that time frees up.
Thus – I’ll eventually read the query. If I’m interested, I’ll eventually
respond. When you send out your script, I’ll eventually read it and, again,
respond.
The only time it is professional to call is if I have requested
to look at a script, a couple of months go by and you haven’t heard anything.
When you call, again: short, sweet and professional. Be friendly and just
ask if I got it. This way, you’re reminding me the script’s in the office,
waiting for a read, and you’ve left a good impression. Do not call a week
after you put it in the mail and demand to know why I haven’t immediately
responded. I’m not your employee and I’m not your boyfriend, and if you
pick up that phone and act like a hard-on it’s a really good way to get
your script tossed into the “life is too short” bin.
Remember that you’re not only selling your script; you’re also selling
yourself as a writer with whom we’ll want to work. Life is too short to
deal with people who aren’t fun to work with. Also, if we sign you, our
job then is to turn around and sell Hollywood (and/or New York) on your
talent and professionalism.
Instead of putting your one script in the mail and pacing the floor for
weeks on end, be constructive with your career as a whole. Query other
companies, write more scripts, rewrite your current scripts, read like
crazy and keep the bills paid. Your entire career does not and should
not hinge on any one thing.
On Writing
AEI posts a “What’s
Hot and What’s Hot” list on the website. This is a very brief guide
on current trends in what scripts sell or don’t. It doesn’t really cover
some very general concepts in the scripts you should not spend time on.
In short:
- Adaptations of books for which you do not own the rights. Public
domain books are okay, as long as it hasn’t already been done to death.
- Sequels to other films. (For example: Die Hard IV). You don’t
own the rights, period, and the people who do will hire established
A-list writers to write those scripts.
- Scripts exactly like movies that have just come out, or are very
well known. To wit: no scripts set aboard the Titanic. No scripts
about gladiators. No scripts about schizophrenic mathematicians. Be
original and don’t try following trends.
- Tired genre rehashings. Another Pulp Fiction-type crime story.
Serial killer movies. Women in danger. Teen gross-outs.
- Biopics or historicals with no story. By this, I mean writing a
script in which you feel a laundry list of all the interesting things
that happened is good enough. No! However interesting the events may
have been, historicals are only good if they’re set in the framework
of a compelling drama. Otherwise, it’s a history lesson.
- Biopics of people whose life story rights you do not own.
- Your own life story, unless we’ll recognize immediately that it’s
at least as interesting as the movies you’ve seen.
- Anything besides a full-length feature screenplay or treatment in
proper format or, for my colleagues, a completed manuscript in proper
format. No short stories, poetry, TV episodes, TV pilots, plays, sketch
comedy skits, articles, etc. I can’t sell them, and I don’t have time
to read them.
With a few of the above, it’s a matter of writing original, compelling
stories and not following trends or lazy clichés. With others, it’s all
about rights situations. As a writer, you do not have to be an accredited
entertainment lawyer, but you should understand the basics of copyright.
You only have the legal right to create and sell stories that are original
and belong to you. This is basic knowledge for a professional writer.
If you send me Die Hard IV, you’ve made it apparent that you haven’t
taken the time to understand even foundation concepts of the industry
and what it is to be a professional screenwriter. I don’t have time to
teach you, nor should I.
I wish I could write a list focusing on the positive – what you should
be writing, instead of what to avoid. But that’s not my job, or Hollywood’s…
it’s you, the writer, from whom all the great ideas flow.
No matter what, make sure your script’s in proper format. Hollywood
is an industry in which the rules are meant to be broken. When it comes
to story and character, anything goes. The only hard rule is format. Like
your query letter, it’s the first indication of whether or not you take
yourself, your career and your writing seriously. If you did, you would
understand proper format and follow it. I have read and covered hundreds
of scripts and rewrites. The first thing I do when I pick up a script
is flip through it. I can literally tell from that simple act whether
or not it’s worth reading. If your script looks like garbage, I’ll be
reading with an eye on what else is wrong, instead of what good things
there might be hidden under the mess.
On Selling Scripts
The only thing that is of value to you – and me, by extension – is a feature-length
script. I have the best chance of selling a completed script, so that’s
what I concentrate my time on. If your intention is to become a professional
screenwriter, it is the most marketable property you can write. Treatments
are also good, but more as a marketing tool than an actual, saleable product.
To that end, don’t waste time writing queries for scripts you haven’t
written. The best and, frequently, only way to start your professional
screenwriting career is by selling a spec script. “Spec” is short
for “speculation” – you haven’t been paid by someone else (i.e. a producer)
to write it, so you’re “speculating” that the time and effort invested
in writing the script will eventually pay off in career advancement or
money.
Sometimes writers become perplexed because they read about writers selling
pitches and getting paid tons of cash to rewrite other scripts. In each
and every case, the people involved are already established writers who
have sold one or more scripts that may or may not have been produced.
They have proven, through their ability to write a spec script so good
that someone bought it, that they can execute another good script. Thus,
the trust in their ability is already established throughout the industry.
This is why your spec script is so important: you are proving to the
world at large that you’re a good writer through an example of your
work. If you’ve already sold one or more scripts, we can sell you – not
your script, but you – as a talented writer to companies looking
for rewrite work or good pitches. Selling a spec is the one sure way to
make you a professional. Even winning contests and whatnot are only icing
on the cake. This is a business, and businesses only understand money.
Think of it in terms of carpentry. You’re a developer and want to have
a house built on a piece of land. Do you hire someone who has already
built a house for another developer? Or do you hire the kid who’s never
done anything, but reallyreallyreally wants to be a carpenter some
day? Sure, the kid’s nice, but this is a business involving millions of
dollars from investors breathing down your neck for the percentage return
you promised them in contract.
What’s your answer?
For that same reason, given the incredibly competitive nature of the film
industry, we cannot sell your undeveloped pitch, your TV pilot or TV episodes
until we sell one of your specs. Don’t bother writing them, and don’t
bother us to try selling them – we can’t and we won’t.
On Contests
Screenwriting contests are very good for one thing: gaining the attention
of the industry. Everyone in town (myself included) tracks who wins screenwriting
contests. If you are a new, unknown screenwriter, entering and winning
contests is the single most valuable strategy to building your career.
These days there are lots of contests. Many are small or new enough to
be of only slight interest unless you take the whole enchilada – first
place – in which case it looks good. A few are big enough that even placing
will get you the attention of reps and production companies. I’m talking
about the Nicholls Foundation, the Chesterfields, and the contests attached
to the big film festivals: Sundance, etc.
I tend to concentrate on Nicholls’ finalists; we’ve signed several.
For you as a writer looking to break into the industry, it is the best
thing to do. Enter early, enter often. Most contests have an entry
fee. Enter as many as you can possibly afford. If you can only afford
a few, concentrate on the big ones I mentioned. Do your research.
Often, winning or placing well in a contest will, at the very least, get
managers, agents and production companies to contact you and request to
look at your script. From that, you may get signed. In some rare cases,
you may even sell the script, and it can become an actual, honest-to-goodness
produced feature film in the theaters. There is no good reason to ignore
the potential legitimate contests offer. Even if placing or winning doesn’t
turn into something solid, it still helps to build your resume. I’ll pay
far more attention to a query in which the writer mentions they won/placed
in this or that competition. It’s a like an industry seal of approval
that you’re a good writer. Winning contests is the next best thing to
selling a script to prove to the world at large that you can write. (Sure
you can write, but can you prove it? There lies the rub, my friends).
Don’t get discouraged if you don’t win the Nicholls the first time out
of the gate. Many writers submit, rewrite, write new scripts and keep
resubmitting until they achieve their goals. It’s good practice for writing
for the industry. I can personally vouch for the fact that many scripts
that win contests are just awful. I think this reflects more on the contests
than the scripts involved. (After reading a wretched winning script, I
shudder at the thought of what lost).
On Hollywood
You may also be reading this with the thought in mind of getting a job
in the film industry. You can achieve this with the same strategies that
go into becoming a screenwriter: dedication, persistence and professionalism.
There’s no hard and fast how-to in the matter. Everybody who works in
the industry came into it through their own slightly different methods.
A few thoughts:
- Decide on exactly what job you want, what you want to do, in the
arm of the industry you most desire to work in – set production (below
the line), development, corporate (the studios), legal, representation
(manager or agent), creative (writing, directing, etc.), production,
etc.
- Expect to work one or more internships. You may get paid, but most
likely not. It’s a great way to make contacts, build your resume and
decide if you actually like working in that part of the industry.
AEI is always ready to accommodate interns—usually up to three at
a time.
- Research and know everything about the job you want: how it’s done,
who’s doing it now, the paths they took to their positions and standard
professional practices. For instance, if you want to work in representation,
production or development, know what script coverage is and how it’s
written.
- Constantly keep your eye on the industry. Read the trades, know
as much as possible.
- Unless you have some nepotism on your side, it’s generally necessary
these days to have some formal college education – it also helps you
acquire internships through the school. On the flip side, it’s no
guarantee of success. An MFA in film from UCLA looks great on your
resume, but there are thousands of waiters in LA with the same thing.
And remember what Mark Twain said: “I never let my schooling interfere
with my education.”
- Take any job that gets your foot in the door. Once you’re in the
industry, in any capacity, it’s a million times easier to move around
from one job to another.
On Dedication
This applies to writing or working in the industry: if you sincerely want
it, you must focus every aspect of your life toward your goals. Life is
simply too short to do anything except everything you can possibly
do to achieve what you desire. To that end, treat your goals, yourself
and the people in the industry with the same seriousness, hard work, dedication
and professionalism. Anything besides is not worth your attention.
Keep trying, keep working, and never give up. As Ken Atchity advises,
don’t put a time limit on your success. If you come to LA and decide to
just kind of give it a shot for a year, you will fail. Despite
what it seems like, the film industry is not an arena for instant gratification.
It is not the world’s job to kiss your ass, tell you you’re a great writer,
pat your head and make you a famous millionaire. You have to create this
of your own accord, and the only way to do so is to work all day, every
day. This is a town of ten-year “overnight successes.” The only way to
achieve anything of value is to give up everything except that one goal.
Be better today than you were yesterday, and better tomorrow than you
are today. This is never ending process.
Hollywood is the most viciously Darwinian professional industry ever created
in the course of human history outside of the gladiatorial arena. Simply
because of this – Hollywood makes people rich and famous. Everyone
wants to be rich and famous. No one’s climbing the walls to become
accountants and truck drivers. In order to succeed and thrive, you have
to understand that there is only one kind of person who exists in this
town: the best. Your dream is not enough – it is merely the container
in which you put your hard work. How large you make the container is up
to you.
The day you give up, the day you decide you “just don’t really feel like
writing,” is the day you have made the conscious decision that you didn’t
want it bad enough, that you’ve shelved your dreams. Too bad, so
sad – now get out of the way for the people who do. When you are not working,
writing and honing your craft, someone else in the world is. And, when
it comes down to your script or theirs, they will win every time…
…unless you are that person.
A dedicated writer is a good writer. If you’re a good writer, the first
ninety-nine doors you knock on will slam in your face. The hundredth shall
open and let you in.
On Me
I came to the film industry through a sideways route: music. Right out
of high school I went to a state college for a double major of journalism
and string bass. For a variety of ill-advised, carpe diem-esque
reasons, I dropped out, went back to Chicago and spent the next decade
playing in punk rock bands, co-founding a little punk record label and
running it out of my basement. We played shows, signed our friends, recorded
CDs and scored a distribution deal to get them in a few record stores.
I wanted to finish my BA, but didn’t want to go back to the same school
or screw around with journalism – it wasn’t for me. So I jumped into the
Columbia College School of Film with a concentration in writing/directing.
I attended school full time by day and worked as a chef full time at night.
I wrote scripts and directed shorts in between, and still played gigs
in the band.
I worked an internship at a local production company. Through that, I
started getting paid work as a set PA. I decided I was willing to do anything
that got me on a film set, so I grabbed any job I could, paid or unpaid
– PA, grip, dolly grip, extra, AD, props, what have you. After a while,
I was working regularly as a grip in the Chicago film industry while attending
film school.
I graduated and, because I’d been working in the Chicago industry the
whole time, I knew it wasn’t big enough for what I wanted to do with my
career. I sold my house, forgot about music, moved to LA and worked another
internship, this time for a literary agency. From there, I met Ken and
Chi-Li and got the job I have today.
Now I work all day, every day in a job I love with creative, intelligent,
dedicated people all bent on one goal: making movies. Worse things can
happen to a guy.
I also write scripts and plays. Some of them have won this or placed in
that. I won’t bore you with details.
Thanks for your time.
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