Because
I rarely pitch for a studio deal and prefer to take finished product
into the marketplace whether it’s a screenplay or a novel
I’m inclined to say the treatment is more a part of my process than
a sales tool.
I’m inclined to say it, but it’s not entirely true. The
three-to-eight page documents I write are indeed designed to sell the
project … to myself. Well, mostly to myself, but also to the people
whose opinions matter to me, like my agent, a handful of readers, and
often a producing partner (like Ken Atchity, my partner in Warp &
Weft Productions or another production company we’ve decided to work
with).
What I’ve learned in the last several years is that the
best creative decisions you make are the projects you choose to write
and, maybe more importantly, the ones you choose not to write.
You simply can’t write yourself out of a bad idea, no matter how hard
you sweat. On several occasions, what sounded cool and interesting to
me as a loose notion, one-liner, theme, or “area” became less interesting
when I tried to tell it as a three-act story.
I write fast. I write in a zone. I can’t get “sort of”
wet once I’ve dived into a story, mind and soul. So it’s become a mater
of sanity preservation to take the time upfront to be sure this is what
I want to devote the next several months of my life to. It’s a decision
based not just on whether it will sell or not, but whether it will be
a fulfilling creative experience for me, one that won’t make me wish
I could turn back the clock and take a moment to dip my toe in the pool.
For more verbal thinkers, that process is “talking out”
the story, telling it to their family and confidantes. I really need
to see it on the page, fleshed out, and written to provoke, excite …
and sell.
Even
if it’s an audience of one: myself.
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