Maybe I’m wrong, but I think just about every writer has the dream of seeing their work adapted for television or the movies. Or anywhere, really, where our work will get exposed to a wider audience.
I’ve always thought my book, AUTUMN MOON, would make a great television series. Or at the very least, a movie (with options for sequels, of course).
It was about two years ago when I came across a Facebook post from a friend.
Let me clarify that. It wasn’t a “friend” friend. It was a Facebook friend. Someone I had never interacted with, but he was a fellow writer and would occasionally post some pseudo-intellectual bon mot.
For the sake of this story, we’ll call him “Tony LaDouche.”
Tony had posted that he was in the process of finalizing a deal with some Hollywood producers. Not just any deal, mind you, but one that would allow him to have one of his books made into a movie and would give him producing options on some of his friends’ books. He then invited his fellow writer friends to “pitch” him their books and he would consider bringing them all as a package deal to his next meeting with the producers.
It was all a bit vague, and Tony must have regretted putting out the open call, because almost immediately, he took down his post. But not before I read it and decided what the hell, why not?
I sent him a link to my book AUTUMN MOON. This was his response via FB Messenger (which is how we started communicating from there on):
“Werewolf book? Please tell me how your book is different from other werewolf books, please.”
Yes, I know he used the word “please” twice in the same sentence, but rather than finding it annoying (as I do most things), it reminded me of the title of the Raymond Carver book, WILL YOU PLEASE BE QUIET, PLEASE?
I gave him the pitch on my book. This is what I said:
“In my book, the werewolves are an endangered species. They’ve been hunted to near extinction. One pack has found a way to survive: by forming a working agreement with a small Montana town. They protect the town from outsiders and in return, essentially they receive a sanctuary. But…there’s an ancient, outdated (and barbaric) cost. Still it works, until…
A young minister comes to town to take over the church. He sees everything in black and white (good versus evil, God versus Satan, etc.). He convinces the human townspeople that the werewolves are demons (and he’s struggling with personal demons, which adds to his zealousness) and should be rebelled against.
Essentially, it’s what happens when an outsider enters a closed community and messes up what’s been working for multiple generations. The result is catastrophic.”
I gavehim the tagline: Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” crossed with THE HOWLING.
His response:
“I see something there in the metaphoric area. I’d like to read it. Keep in mind, there are a lot of werewolf books by good friends of mine, but I need something different. Only by reading the book can I tell if it has what I think can attract an audience.”
Was that a hint Tony wanted a free copy? I thought, sure, why not? I offered to send him one and he asked for a PDF. I complied. He said he would get back to me. Shortly after, he asked me for a marketing report, something to take with him to pitch to the producers if (and I stress the word “if”) he decided to pitch my book along with the others.
Now folks, I’ve never written a marketing report before. But like any person who fakes his way through life, I went online and looked at a bunch of sample marketing reports. I copied the format and wrote what I thought was a passable report. I sent it to him with a comment like, “if this isn’t what you wanted, I apologize.” He responded:
“Some advise from a retired professor and former grant writer. Don’t apologize. No excuses. When you’re asked to do something, do it like you know what you’re doing. If I accept your story and introduce you to production people and you convey insecurity, we’re both dead meat, you for excusing your lack of professionalism, me for picking you and your book. We both must always come across like, this is my production company, this is my book. You people work for us. Otherwise, they’ll make the movie their way, not ours. And especially don’t put your insecurity into writing.”
Yes, he wrote “advise” and it should have been “advice.” I guess he’s not a retired English professor. Or maybe it was late and he was tired when he wrote it. Whatever.
I acknowledged what he said and waited. Nine days later, he wrote:
“You kind of disappeared there. Slade, could you do a three-act summary of your book for me. Also, could you tell me again what makes your monster new and unique. I have two werewolf books and can only choose one. The other requires a snowy location in the woods. Knowing the logistics of your book would help at this point. And do keep in touch so that I know you’re still interested. Thanks.”
I hadn’t disappeared. I was working two jobs at the time. Also, Tony lives on the West Coast and I’m on the East Coast. He would message me what would be late at night for him, but was middle of the night for me.
I asked him to clarify what he wanted as far as the summary, and reiterated that yes, I was still interested. He responded:
“It’s just that you should be aware of the situation with my negotiations as I may need your help now and then. Negotiations could go on for months. For now, it’s a three-act summary. Unless you can tell me how much money it will take to make your book into a movie??”
Going by what he said above, it was my impression he wanted a synopsis of the story. Action and character beats, broken up into the traditional 3-act story. I mean…he actually says “three-act summary.” So that’s what I wrote.
I won’t post it here because it tells the whole story and if there’s folks out there who haven’t read AUTUMN MOON yet, I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you.
Anyway, I guess he didn’t like what I wrote because he responded with:
“I guess I forgot to tell you the Adrian Lyne story. Lyne was directing “Jacob’s Ladder” and asked the writer about the “vortex” scene. The writer said, “It is a cosmic link between heaven and Jacob’s mental state between life and death. It represents good and evil as points of view from a particular set of circumstances.” Adrian Lyne responded, “Look, kid, all I need to know is how many carpenters I need to build it.” That’s what I need. Not a summary of the book. A three-act version to budget. Note: E.T. Act one: Alien gets stranded on Earth by the alien spaceship and is hidden by kids. Act two: The government closes in on finding the alien as the kids get to know the alien. Act: three: With the help from the kids, the alien eludes the government agents, and is rescued by the alien spaceship. See, not a summary of the movie, a three-act summary for budgeting. I need X dollars for an alien, kid actors, and CGI spaceship in act one. Etc. See, I need to know how many carpenters to hire. All this other stuff is just a writer talking about his book. It doesn’t help with the nuts and bolts. I know it’s a new way to think of your book, but if I can’t get you on the same page as me, then we’ll be speaking two different languages and not communicating. Hope that helps.”
Well, it does and it doesn’t. Help, I mean. It kind of sounds like he wants me to break the story down into the bare essentials of what will be needed to film it. Right? Or am I crazy? (Don’t answer that.)
I followed up with a question and he responded:
“It’s getting a bit late for rewrites. I have budgets. I need one more by Monday. The studio wants to know in budget form how much each book will cost to make into a movie. I’m not asking you to budget your book, only to tell me in each act what will be included, so I know how many carpenters to hire. I sent you an example. Tomorrow’s my cut-off date. Then it’s game over.”
Okay. I think I know what he wants. I send him what I think is a “three act summary for budgeting.” Again, I won’t include it here because it gives away plot points of my book. Tony responds with:
“Characters are introduced….?? Another scene later…?? What are “sets”? What are “supporting actors”? These seem written for a movie producer. I’m a book author. In my job as department chair of the English department, I learned to write grants and budgets, garnering millions of dollars for the university for new professors, new paint for several classrooms, pay increases for tenured professors, new asphalt for the English dept. parking lot, and construction of a study center for graduate students, etc. Instead of grants, I got money from a movie studio, instead of an English department, I got your book. I can’t tell the grantor that I need the money for a parking dilemma. I need to say that I need it for a 50 x 50 feet parking lot re-asphalting. I don’t understand movie language. I only know budget language. Don’t you have a weekly budget for food? What’s on your grocery list when you go shopping? “Things to eat.”? Come on, help me out. And think about this at this point: Do you think we can work together in real life on a movie set if we can’t even communicate online? I’m still making the final decision tomorrow (Saturday, PST, about four hours from now).”
Oy vey, this guy. I can’t help myself. I respond with the following:
“I like you. Really, I do. And I’d love to see my book made into a movie. But this is wearing on me. I work two jobs, share custody of a five year old, and somewhere amidst the chaos, I’m trying to finish my next novel.
You want a budget? Here goes:
$900,000
Here’s the breakdown:
$100,000 to me. That’s my salary to fly out there and put this film together. I’ll coordinate and hire all the key players. I’ll also write the screenplay.
$100,000 to you. Your job is to stay away. Sure, you can visit the set and watch some stuff get filmed. But ultimately, your job is to enjoy your money and come to the premiere.
$100,000 to my cousin who is a special effects guy. He mostly does commercials, but he’s also worked on some of the big budget superhero movies. He gets put in charge of special effects on this film.
Another $100,000 to my cousin for his special effects team he’s going to need.
$100,000 for the director.
The remaining $400,000 is for paying actors, paying crew members, renting equipment, and securing locations for filming.
Oh, and everyone (you, me, my cousin, the director, and your producer friends) get points on the back end.”
Shortly after I sent this to him, he posted a passive aggressive comment on Facebook about battling with writers. Then he messaged me:
“I’m walking into the meeting with your book in hand (or ebook on the laptop) and telling the movie studio, this is the book I want to make into a movie. Here is my budget projections. They will rub their jaws and go “hmmm” and tell me yes or no. I don’t have a 3-act summary of your book, a market report, a demographic, or a budget. I write the budgets because I will control the money; the production people will make the movie. You don’t write the budget because you’ll spoil my whole deal with the studio and in turn spoil the deal for the authors who have given me a 3-act summary of their book, a market report, and a demographic projection for me to write the budget. This has nothing to do with the movie. This is my negotiation to sell my book to the studio. The magic number for my book will add up to three movies. You’re putting the cart ahead of the horse. I don’t even have a deal yet, and you’re hiring the production team. You’re supposed to be helping me close my deal to sell MY book, not yours. If I sell my book, THEN we can talk about making movies. It just occurred to me that only two authors understand this, and those are the two I’ve chosen. And I’m doing all this for guys like you to make their book into a movie, but it’s the guys like you who are jeopardizing my deal with these odd requests. If things work out, and I do close the deal, then I’ll be making two movies. If their successful, maybe you can wrap your head around the situation as it is, not as you imagine it. Keep in touch. Maybe I can do a review of your book for my blog in December when we take a break from negotiations for Christmas vacation. Or January. Good luck to you.”
My response to him:
“You asked for books to be considered for film. I pitched you one of mine. You asked what made it different from all the other werewolf books. I told you. You asked for a copy. I sent one.
You asked for a marketing report. I’ve never written one before, so I went online, looked at a few, and wrote what I thought you wanted. The only feedback you gave me was to tell me to never apologize, and to always act like I know what I’m doing (even when I don’t).
You asked for a 3 act summary, and asked again what made my book different. I sent you a 3 act summary. You said no, not like that. Like this. I tried to do one like you wanted. You said no, still wrong.
At this point, I told a friend, ‘I get the feeling he doesn’t know what he wants. Only what he doesn’t want. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to pick my book. And honestly, I’m relieved because I think working with him will be a nightmare. A nightmare that ultimately won’t pay off in the end.’
So with nothing to lose, I threw caution to the wind and decided to write a budget for a movie based on my book. It showed how much and where the money would be spent.
Was it what you wanted? No, of course not. It wouldn’t have mattered what I wrote. Your mind was already made up before I sent it.
Please don’t review my book for your blog. You won’t like it, and I’m reasonably sure you won’t ‘get it.’”
Tony’s response was to block me.
That was two years ago and I’m pretty sure Tony LaDouche did not get a movie made for his book or for any of his friends’ books. I don’t feel bad for Tony, but anyone else who had to jump through his hoops, you have my sympathies.
And that was my brief fling with Hollywood.
To any producers out there: I still think I can do it for $900,000. But let’s make it an even mil. Deal?