PitchFest 2015

            As many of you know, this was a whirlwind couple of days for me.

            Amidst family issues and the end of school, I had to delay my trip to PitchFest. Southwest only charged me $41 (though it would be more than that in the end) to switch my flight from Friday to Saturday and Marriott (where I was staying and where PitchFest was held) agreed to allow me to check-in on Saturday and to refund my charge my Friday night.

            Anyhow, I did not sleep well on either Thursday or Friday nights, but managed to function (moderately) well on both days.

            Saturday I boarded my plane at around 6am. However, I almost missed my flight because cunt-ass TSA took issue with my luggage.

            I was in Chicago Midway when I realized that when Southwest adjusted my flight, they had me flying into LAX instead of Burbank (which is a big difference). I realized then that I wouldn’t be able to take the Marriott shuttle to get to my hotel. I then quickly realized how majorly I use/need/rely on my iPhone and jumped on Prime Time Shuttle’s website and booked a shuttle ($26 plus the “suggested” $5 gratuity = $31) for when I landed… That $41 Southwest charged me for changing my flight just jumped to $70+.

            I landed around 11am and had to wait until noon for my shuttle to arrive. They then drove me around the airport several times, picking up more and more passengers. We then proceeded to drive down Sunset strip (kinda entertaining) and through some extremely nefarious parts of Los Angeles and its surrounding counties.

            I eventually arrived at my hotel and checked in, unpacked, registered at PitchFest and went to eat (I hadn’t eaten since I had some Krispy Kremes for breakfast). I ate at the hotel restaurant (a chain called the Daily Grill), where I paid $21 (tip included) for a chicken sandwich, fries and a Dr. Pepper…

            I then went and sat in on one Q&A and two seminars.

            The Q&A was a panel of three screenwriters, all of whom had been seemingly grandfathered into the profession and all of which were old dogs at the profession, seemed to live comfortably and who seemed displeased to be there.

            They were: Dale Launer (My Cousin Vinny, Ruthless People and Dirty, Rotten Scoundrels), Allison Burnett (one of four writers on Underworld: Awakening… and the only reason I stayed in this session more than 20 minutes… I wanted to hear some insider stories about the making of an Underworld film) and Jim Herzfeld (again, one of many writers on Meet the Parents/Fockers, etc.). Herzfeld seemed the youngest out of all of them, but probably because he had the success to keep him more comfortable and well maintained than the others (whose success had mostly been in the 80’s-90’s). Herzfeld also name-dropped quite a bit (he brought up the fact that Spielberg was supposed to direct Meet the Parents and that Jim Carrey was initially tapped to star).

            The moderator would ask questions (“What goes into writing a blockbuster?”, etc.) and the screenwriters (who clearly didn’t want to be there, except Burnett, who seemed agreeable) went into meandering stories about how they came to write the films they were famous for. I found it interesting, but not helpful: I figured I could watch the DVD special features and get the same stories. The only part I found interesting was when Allison Burnett made a disclaimer and said,

            “The only blockbuster I’ve ever written was the last Underworld movie. And that movie was part of a successful franchise… It would have been a hit anyway, even without me writing it.”

            Also, initially the writer of the Nightmare on Elm Street remake and The Thing prequel (which turned into a remake anyway) and Final Destination 5 (classics, all of them), Eric Heisserer was supposed to be there, but wasn’t. Burnett said jokingly,

            “I’m not the guy who wrote Elm Street and The Thing… I thought about saying that I was him and saying a bunch of crazy shit to ruin his career… But I’m not him.”

            Amusing. I left after 45 minutes or so.

            I then attended two sessions, which were pretty much worthless.

            I attended one called “Perfecting Your Five Minute Pitch”. I came in at the tail end and got nothing out of that session except meeting a dude named Adam Knapp (from Wichita, Kansas) who had a really professional one-sheet and some really good ideas for scripts. I then began tossing questions at him (questions I knew the people he’d be pitching to would ask). I also learned that a good percentage of people there had either traveled from the Midwest, or had moved to L.A. from the Midwest and were posing as locals. At any rate, Adam and I became quick friends and we began conversing, talking about our scripts and went to the next seminar together.

            We attempted to go to “Pitch Boot Camp” together, but found that that seminar cost extra (an expense that neither of us had offered up), so we wound up going late to the “Pitching for Introverts” session (even though, clearly, neither of us were introverts because we made quick friends with those around us). Anyhow, a middle-aged lady taught that session (she had the Anne Hathaway thing going on). Her session was pretty entertaining and enthusiastic, but worthless. She also told us that we needed to be on social media (obviously) and that producers, agents and people in the industry in general appreciated it when we tagged them and their work in our posts.

            I later met a guy from Boston, MA. named Ryan who told me (at breakfast the next morning) that he was thinking about what she said and how much sense it made. I had to tell him the reality: that I was friends on social media with lots of small death metal bands on indie record labels in towns either close to mine or in my town and that I tagged them constantly in posts and they never “liked” my posts or followed me. I had to break it to him that celebrities (on any level) don’t give a shit about or appreciate the “little people” whatsoever. Cynical? Sure. But true. Just ask anybody famous; we’re statistics, demographics and sales figures to them, nothing more.

            Anyhow, each seminar (that was intended to help us) ended with a sales pitch. It felt like I was watching the home shopping channel. After each seminar the person pitching would then hand out fliers for their one-on-one consultations or their CD/DVD program box set, etc. It was all very capitalistic, consumerist and very disappointing and demeaning (for them). I threw the fliers in the trash and fazed out during their sales pitch. The way I see it, they were paid to be there, that should be enough.

            Also, the information they offered during these seminars was, to me, common sense stuff. If you’d done your research (on pitchfests or just how to approach a professional in this industry period) you’d know what you were doing. Also, some of the stuff they presented to us were things you’d learn readily in any college speech & written communication class. It just all felt so obvious to me. I guess it didn’t to everyone else there. It was then that I learned that not only had I been stressing out over my preparation for PitchFest for nothing, but that I was infinitely more prepared and professional than about 2/3 of the people in attendance.

            After that entire hullabaloo I went to the cocktail party on the hotel patio. Along the way I met a septuagenarian Russian lady who was pitching a documentary based on her experiences during WWII in Russia. We became instant friends. Her name was Elizabeth. We talked for about 30 minutes, then I found Adam sitting near the back of the patio on a bench with Ryan from Boston, Mass. (who I mentioned earlier) and the three of us became quick friends. I also went and purchased a really shitty plastic cup of Pinot Noir for $8 that (I am sure) dyed my insides a nasty shade of dark purple. Anyhow, a guy named Ross from Britain later joined us.

            I drank and talked with my comrades until we were joined by a redheaded, bespectacled, drunken, pretentious douche bag sometime after midnight and that expedited my departure to bed.

            The next morning I was joined by Ryan (from Boston, MA.— I keep saying that because I have a brother named Ryan who will eventually factor into the story) and we had a power breakfast (of French toast, pancakes, sausage, bacon and eggs) at Denny’s.

            We then went to pitch.

            I had showered and shaved before Denny’s, but after Denny’s I threw on a three-piece suit and tie (black) and went down to pitch.

            Now, my mom thought it was “overkill” to put on a three-piece suit and tie, but I did not. Not only did it show that I took my writing seriously and that I took PitchFest and the potential career, professional and creative opportunities it presented seriously, but that I was a professional and cared and respected the people I was pitching to enough to dress up for them. You’d also be surprised how executives I pitched to who said,

            “Nice suit!”

            “Thank you for dressing up.”

            And,

            “You look nice!”

            I remember reading an interview with an agent that said, and I’m paraphrasing here, when agents send their assistants to a pitchfest, their assistants might show up very informally (possibly in their pajamas), but the people pitching shouldn’t! Double standard? Sure. But one they are allowed to cop because they hold all the cards (even though you have the creativity that’s going to make them rich… Doesn’t make sense to me, either… Whatever).

            Anyhow, there were a few other things I noticed: 1.) PitchFest was significantly less crowded and well attended than I thought it would be, 2.) I seemed to be the most organized, professional and prepared guy there: some people ran out of business cards… Other didn’t have a one-sheet (some people merely had things jotted down on cocktail napkins…), Others didn’t even have a completed screenplay or a story, they just had a “what if…” idea, 3.) There were a great degree of blowhards there; sad, pathetic losers, who were loud and boisterous and who arrogantly pontificated about the “industry” (as if they knew all there was to know about the entertainment industry), their near misses with getting repped or having their script optioned, the latest gossip and their “million-dollar/brilliant” idea. Finally, there seemed to be a lot of early-20’s, very attractive girls there. Now this last part deserves some explanation. First, apparently there is some girl named Lena Dunham (a pseudo-counter-culture controversy magnet) who has been creating shows since she was in her early-20’s. Apparently some show she created, called Girls, is a hit on HBO and she is regarded as some sort of phenom now. I say that all this is alleged because, well, I have no way of knowing; I don’t watch T.V. Also, I think the presence of Diablo Cody probably inspired a lot of these girls to show up and pitch. The problem here is that both Cody and Dunham are tattooed “bad girls” (Cody was a stripper, Dunham apparently is some sort of trouble magnet). But, regardless, nearly all of these twentysomething attractive girls were pitching T.V. show pilots. They would come out of nearly every pitch meeting giddy, squealing,

            “I have a meeting tomorrow!”

            “I got a request [for my script]!”

            “They showed so much interest in my show!”

            Now, mind you, the entertainment industry as a whole (with the exception of publishing, for some reason) is still generally a boys club. There were lots of young men (mostly assistants) and older men hearing the pitches.

            Ah well.

            Live and learn, I suppose.

            Anyhow, on to the pitches…

            The first group I pitched was the Horror Equity Fund (two guys, one named Marlon Schulman, who I got to know better later, on and the other was Brian Herskowitz). I’d heard that, if they like your project, they find money (investors or producers) to help make it happen. Then I heard another guy (standing in line to pitch) say that, according to their website, they have people pay them for their services… I don’t know. At any rate, they didn’t seem into my pitch (though they did thank me for dressing up) and they began to ask questions about my screenplay, poking holes in some of the weaker narrative points when they rang the bell (incidentally they rang a demeaning cowbell when your five minute pitch session was over… we all knew it was a cattle call, but to name it like that was terrible!). I left my one-sheet with them and moved on.

            Next I pitched to Blumhouse (they make horror films like the Purge and Paranormal Activity franchises). The lady rep (Olivia Mascheroni) who I pitched to loved my card (and my family crest), loved the Purge films (we talked about how good the second one was for a bit), then she asked me about myself and (when I mentioned my obsession with horror) what my favorite horror films were. I then pitched Flatdog and she flipped over it! She thought it was the coolest idea she’d heard in forever… However, Blumhouse only makes films in the $5 million and under budget range. The creature FX alone in Flatdog would not be feasible. She seemed so disappointed that she couldn’t offer me anything more or delve further into Flatdog. I left my one-sheet with her and moved on.

            I then decided to meet with some agencies before lunch.

            I met with the Warden Group (who were looking for horror writers) and the rep (his name was Alex Edleman) loved Flatdog! He said he’d written a similar script about alligators in the sewer in a post-9/11 New York (remember that urban legend and how it was renewed and applied to terrorists after 9/11?... ), but that my script sounded much better than his script. He invited me to send the first 30 pages of Flatdog to the agency, along with the loglines for all my other horror scripts. Anyhow, he wrote on my one-sheet “80’s horror” and asked if I had a love for 80’s horror (as my script reminded him of that). I said that I did and that was exactly where Flatdog came from (in a sense it did and in a sense it came from my love of allegorical socio-political horror from all generations). Anyhow, he seemed pleased with the pitch, the one-sheet and the idea. I left feeling elated that I’d had my first script request.

            I also pitched to the Radmin Group, who said they were looking for “smart horror”. However, when I pitched them, they said they were looking for more, “grounded horror… like The Conjuring.”

            You have no idea how many production companies told me that exact same thing, in those exact same words. So… they basically just want to replicate and rehash what worked two years ago and has been (kinda) working ever since (by copying The Conjuring and Paranormal Activity). And by “grounded horror” I guess they mean a story with a family dynamic or some kind of dysfunctional character (melodrama, basically) where, if you take away the supernatural element, you still have a low-budget film about screwed up people; a story where the horror element is expendable and easily removable, essentially; a horror film that does not focus or rely on the horror… Then why make it a horror film?

            I digress.

            Anyhow, Radmin wasn’t feeling Flatdog, but the rep was interested in the fact that I had thirteen unproduced scripts and wanted to read the loglines for them.

            I then met with Benderspink (a production company that makes a lot of horror… they are also fairly huge in Hollywood and have made films like Horrible Bosses 1 & 2, The Ring, History of Violence, The Ruin, Butterfly Effect, We’re the Millers, etc.). I don’t have a clear memory of my meeting with Benderspink (it all became a blur to me at a certain point…). Next year I need to take the time after each meeting and jot down in my notebook how the meeting went, what they requested, etc. Live and learn… I mostly Tweeted after each meeting. Gotta get more on my game. Anyhow, I have in my notebook to send Benderspink Flatdog, so I guess I’ll do that and send them my one-sheet as well as my loglines. We’ll see what sticks.

            I then met with the Gotham Group (a literary/film agency). The rep was an excitable dude named Tamm. When I asked if they were amendable to repping horror writers he said that they were and that Gotham Group had clients who wrote segments in the V/H/S films and other horror films. I pitched to him Flatdog and he seemed extremely excited and extremely conflicted. He kept swiveling in his seat and saying,

            “Man, this is a fuckin’ cool idea! I just need to understand the world it’s in! I love this idea… I just don’t know what to do with it!... Send it to me!”

            I agreed to do so. He then asked me to boil it down and (I was prepared for this) I said,

            “It’s Nightmare On Elm Street meets Jaws.”

            “Oh, dude! All you had to say was that it’s Jaws with an alligator and I’m sold!”

            It should also be noted that the agency reps were a lot less formal (cussing, etc.) than reps from the studios and production houses. Don’t know why that is.

            I also met with Benaroya Pictures. They said they were looking for “dark, adult drama”… So I pitched them Pillow Queen. The guy listened, but then said,

            “Mr. Benaroya likes dark drama… But dark drama he can sit down and watch with his family…”

            Then there was the executive luncheon.

            Now, I thought this was going to be extremely awkward: essentially if you paid extra (or bought a certain level of ticket… such as the Silver Pass, which I bought) then you were served lunch and got to sit and schmooze (without the restrictions and formality of the pitching bullpen and cattle call… all this farm terminology) with the executives and agents.

            Anyhow, I got there late (as I didn’t know the format) and had to search for a place to sit. I eventually landed (serendipitously) at the unofficial “horror table”. There I sat between Marie Olsen (a woman from south Africa who had a company called MonsterWorks) and Marlon Schulman (from the Horror Equity Fund). We were served a decent salad, chicken with pasta and steamed vegetables and fairly decent gourmet strawberry shortcake for dessert. When I first sat down I thought Marlon seemed somewhat put off and uncomfortable (though I swear I didn’t see him when I sat down), but he eventually opened up. He asked me to tell him about myself. I did. I then asked him to tell me about himself. He is from Brooklyn, NY and worked in the legal dept. of Orion Pictures. I started as if galvanized and told him RoboCop is my favorite movie of all time. He said,

            “Yeah, I was in their legal department when they released RoboCop… And RoboCop 2… And, unfortunately, RoboCop 3.”

            He then said that he preferred to think of Orion as the company “that made Amadeus…”

            I then told Marlon that a question he asked me about my pitch (my logline) helped me and caused me to change my pitch when I gave it to the other agents and producers. He remembered my pitch (which impressed me) and was glad that had helped.

            At one point I decided I needed a glass of water, as all they were serving us was iced tea, and began searching for a waiter. Marlon stopped eating and began fussing, trying to wave down a water for me. I thanked him and took this as a good sign of professional and personal character.

            Marlon then asked me why I chose to pitch to them. I told them that I had read about them in various news bit on the Fangoria website. This seemed to excited him greatly and he said that they had been trying to work with Fangoria, but that one individual on their staff created a blockage. He said that they must have been cracking through that blockage due to what I said. Marlon then asked me why, of all my scripts, I chose to pitch Flatdog. I told him that it was my favorite script, probably the best written and that I loved the allegory in it. I told him that I needed to have allegory and subtext in my films, especially my horror. I cited George Romero and early John Carpenter for evidence. He said that Romero was an “advisor” in their company and that they were trying to get his son (Cameron) to do some projects for them. Marlon said that Cameron had a great idea, but that it needed to be a book or graphic novel first… Anyhow, Marlon then referred me to Marie and told me,

            “I could list Marie’s credits, but that would take up all of lunch.” He then said, “Marie, you’ve got to hear this kid’s pitch.”

            I was flattered, though I have just received my rejection e-mail from Horror Equity Fund regarding Flatdog.

            Anyhow, I began talking to Marie Olsen. Turns out she has a theater background (she did theater and radio in south Africa before she moved to America). At any rate, she told me that her current favorite author is from St. Louis… Laurell K. Hamilton. I told her my long, terrible story about Hamilton and how dismissive she was to me a few years ago. She agreed that that was disappointing, but then we began talking about books. We talked about Stephen King, James Herbert (she was the only one I think I’ve ever met who actually knew who he was… she mentioned The Rats!). I told her that I had feared that the executive luncheon would be awkward and she concurred, but then she mentioned that ours was the best conversation she’d had all day. We then talked briefly about our shared love of H.P. Lovecraft and she told me that she was knitting a Cthulhu scarf. I told her that I didn’t want to trouble her, but that I’d be willing to pay her to make two of them so that I could have one. She said she never repeated her work, but that there was room for negotiation there…

            I promised to pitch Marie after lunch and I left the ballroom.

            After lunch I pitched Marie Flatdog. Afterwards she told me that her concerns were the budget, that filming is New Orleans would be cost prohibitive. She then went on to other (much-appreciated) criticisms regarding my pitch when they rang that damn cowbell and another gentlemen was in line behind me for Marie’s table. She told me to come back and that we would further discuss my pitch.

            Then came probably the most exciting news of the day.

            See, there were a few agencies and production companies there that are powerhouses in Hollywood. There was Scott Free Productions (the production company Ridley Scott started with his late brother Tony), CAA (Creative Artists Agency… They represent just about every single A-lister in Hollywood… Essentially, they own modern show business!), Gersh Agency (another heavy), Paradigm (another heavy) and some agency with an “A” and a “P” in their title… I can’t remember the acronym or what it stood for. Anyhow, the lines for these production companies and agencies were long all day, however, when I spoke to people they were wary of pitching to these agencies and companies for fear that the bigwigs for each group just sent “seat fillers” and that they were such high-powered and prestigious companies that they didn’t need to go to PitchFest to find talent. These were the kinds of companies that didn’t take a project unless it was high profile and didn’t sign a talent unless they were already famous.

            Anyhow, I begrudgingly got in line for CAA. When I got up to the CAA booth I have to admit that the rep looked a bit bored and beleaguered, but, to his credit, he did stay all day for PitchFest (more on that later) and he was listening to pitches and amendable to ideas. I told him a little about myself and proceeded to pitch Flatdog. When I mentioned that it took place in New Orleans he said,

            “Great! I lived in New Orleans for five years!”

            I proceeded and when I got to a part in my pitch where I worked in a line from my script he said,

            “Oh man! Great line!”

            I thanked him and told him that it was from my script.

            I proceeded on and, at one point, the rep yelled,

            “Fuck yeah!”

            I was taken aback that a rep from such a high-up agency such as CAA would yell that, but, hey, when you hear something you like, you get amped up.

            Anyhow, he stopped me 2/3 of the way through my pitch and said,

            “Stop! You got me! Send me this thing! I gotta read it!”

            I then told him that I had the script right there if he wanted it (thank goodness I made those copies at the Webster University library two days before I left!).

            “Give it to me!” He enthused.

            He asked the length of the script. I told him it was 98 pages and he seemed pleased.

            He asked me the age of my protagonist. I told him 30-45 years of age.

            He asked me for my “dream cast” for the lead. Now, when I wrote this script (in 2008) I was watching RoboCop 2 every weekend and wrote it with Peter Weller in mind, but you don’t say that to a rep from CAA. I thought about who was hot at the moment and who I actually liked seeing in movies (there are few actors that fit that description) and said,

            “Bradley Cooper?”

            “Great! Perfect! He’s a client of ours! We can make that work! We can put that together!”

            He then asked me for my “projected budget” for the film. I deliberated (as I hadn’t thought this through) and said,

            “The most expensive things would be the creature FX… So… thirty million?”

            “Perfect! That’s what I was thinking when you were pitching!”

            So we were on the same page.

            He told me that he couldn’t wait to read the script. He also mentioned that there was the possibility that he could read the script and hate it. But he said that the fact that I was a college professor gave him confidence in my writing. He said he would in touch sometime in the near future, we shook hands and I left.

            After that I was elated. I hadn’t even intended to pitch to CAA and they were my last pitch of the day… Sort of a “what have I got to lose?” move.

            I went to the “Sweet Taste of Success” cocktail party at the Daily Grill, had drinks (a vodka and Red Bull that cost me $14.50!!!) with two girls: Karen (a blonde from D.C., pitching a drama about corrupt lobbyist) and Angela (a brunette who lived a few miles away) who had pitched and had some luck; we were briefly joined by Ryan from Boston.

            I was then asked to join Adam Knapp and his friends in a “quiet area” of the bar. It was around that time that my brother and his fiancée joined me. I told my brother the story and my brother asked,

            “Has Bradley Cooper done horror before?”

            I told him about the Midnight Meat Train (an adaptation of a Clive Barker short story Cooper did in 2008) and how, in a scene from Silver Lining’s Playbook, when Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence are walking down the street together on Halloween, they pass a theater and on the theater marquee is Midnight Meat Train.

            “So not only has he done horror, but he owns it!” My brother commented. I agreed and that simple observation and statement made me feel infinitely better.

            I told my brother that I was trying not to hold too much hope and that something may very well not pan out with any of my meetings, but especially the top shelf CAA meeting, but my brother assured me by saying,

            “Look, the fact is, this guy showed interest! In this town that’s something!”

            He then went on to reassure me that Hollywood was a town where you could be burnt to the ground and rise from the ashes like a phoenix. He gave the example that fifteen years ago Robert Downey Jr. was in an orange jumpsuit, his career dead and was pretty much broke. Now he’s Iron Man.

            That made me feel good. It told me that I could very well go from nothing (which is better than a has-been, at least when you’re a nobody you have unlimited potential and nowhere to go but up) and build an empire. It also helped waylay concerns I had that, given the imperfect nature of my Flatdog script, no agent or production company would want to work with me again if they read Flatdog and found it, in any way, amateurish.

           

            Will I do PitchFest again next year?
            I think so (that is, of course, pending anything major happening from this year’s ‘Fest).

           

            As I said before, I was perhaps one of the most organized, prepared and well-presented people there. On “pitch day” you’d be surprised how many people looked like they had just rolled out of bed. The most dressed up most people got was jeans, T-shirt and a sports coat. Some people ran out of business cards (!), other people didn’t have materials to hand to the companies they were pitching to, some people didn’t even have a completed script… just a fucking idea!

While other people had their ducks in a row infinitely more than I did, and I think those people received more requests for their scripts and scheduled more meetings than I did. But I didn’t do terribly: at least three requests for my script and loglines and the excited reaction from CAA. Anyhow, I got the sense that most people were flying by the seat of their pants. Perhaps it is being a teacher, or perhaps it is my idiosyncratic need to prepare for every possible scenario and situation, but despite it being my first pitchfest, I think I was more on point than most people.

            My two favorite stories of ineptitude were:

            There was a guy who looked and acted (a bit) like a character out of a Brett Easton Ellis novel. Now, I say this, but he was actually a nice guy. Despite that, he was wearing kind of a suit (no tie) and ran out of business cards. He also had three different scripts in three different genres he was pitching. He saw me and said,

            “Nice suit! Who’s your tailor?!”

            I told him I didn’t really have a tailor, but if I could have remembered the name of the old guy from the Men’s Wearhouse ads, I would have said him.

            We talked about our scripts and I pulled out my one-sheet for Flatdog and he “ooohed” and “awwwed” and said,

            “How do you make these things?!”

            I was a bit taken aback. This was my first pitchfest and I threw my one-sheets together in a matter of weeks (though with the stellar help of my incomparable friends).

            I asked if he’d had any luck and he said,

            “Not as much as I’d like. Only two or three requests for my scripts and I’ve had about six pitch meetings. That’s not a good batting average for me.”

            I asked if this was his first pitchfest. He said he’d been to six pitchfests.

            I was aghast.

            Apparently he hadn’t learned anything from the previous six…

            Another story concerns the “Executive Luncheon”. As I entered I struck up a conversation with a woman about my age who, from what I gathered, came from a family that was heavily involved in the 70’s rock scene… And so she felt entitled and grandfathered into show business as a result. She said that she worked in a bar in Santa Monica where the original lead singer of Motley Crue came to drink. She said he told her his life story and that she was going to put it into a script. That was one script (which I have no idea if she ever actually wrote it or not). She then told me some of her other “ideas”…

            “Like I have one where… What if Keith Richards played King Lear?!”

            I stared at her for a moment.

            Was she proposing an adaptation of King Lear with Richards in the lead?

            Or a movie about a production of King Lear with Richards in the lead?

            No matter what these seemed like the most half-baked, asinine ideas in the world to me. But she was pretty pleased with herself and thought she had PitchFest figured out and that she would have great success. Good for her. Most people have to drink for hours in order to secure that kind of misguided confidence.

            Finally, the last observation I have addresses the supposed attitude of the companies in attendance. I said before that the CAA rep, admirably, stuck it out the whole day. Other companies, however, were not so strong-willed. Other companies (slated to be there) didn’t even bother to show up. Companies like Circle of Confusion (who has requested two of my scripts in the past and rejected both), Madhouse Films and Aperture Pictures. Other companies (like the Horror Equity Fund, Diabolik Pictures and Heretic Literary Group) either left halfway through the day or, in some cases (to my knowledge), never bothered to show up in the first place. This was frustrating, as I intended to pitch to these people, but also frustrating because, well, despite their thinking that this whole endeavor might not be worth their time, sometimes you find a rose among weeds. Apparently CAA thought so, ‘cuz their guy stayed the whole day.

            Anyhow, I learned a few lessons for next year: to have a packet with my screenwriter’s résumé (with my business card stapled to it) and a sheet with my loglines on it; to have a cheap flash drive (that I don’t mind giving away) with all the previously mentioned things, plus copies of my script, ready to hand out to people; hard copies of my script (which, thankfully, I had this year); have multiple projects to pitch (I did this year, but felt more comfortable pitching Flatdog than Pillow Queen); be cognizant of the budget of my project and the budgetary constraints of the people I am pitching to; memorize the Executive Directory (the guide of all the companies, their reps and what they are looking for, which is given to all participants electronically and (if you pay enough) in hard copy) and create a more solid action plan; get my pitch down to less than five minutes (as I only had five minutes with each executive… I thought I had more than ten).

            So… that’s my story. We’ll see if anything pans out. As for me, I am about to make sure my loglines are perfect, take another look at the first thirty pages of Flatdog (in order to send off to the Warden Group) and write some follow-up e-mails.