They're Not Short On Cash: The False Economy of Short Films

I've had producers ask me to fund short films I wrote.

I've had producers ask me to pay them to work with me on short films I wrote.

I've had producers tell me they don't have money for the script, but love it and want to produce it then send me an option contract that lasts “in perpetuity”, a.k.a. forever.

I've also had producers pay me for short films.

Early on in my film career, which didn't start until in earnest until I was in my mid-20's, I read that screenwriters were never paid for short scripts. The concept astounded me because I'd been paid sums for journalistic pieces and had short stories rejected from fiction magazines that offered even larger sums.

Neither the news business nor the publishing industry are known for their generosity toward scribes, let alone in the digital age where everyone with a Twitter handle considers themselves a journalist or, worse, a food critic.

Yet I've been paid for several short films I've written. More than I've been paid for features.

My first script sale was for the token amount of $1. I thought it was some kind of joke because the producer/director had asked me if I had a plan for financing the short earlier in correspondence. I was adamant that I wouldn't pay for it to the point that I had it written in the option contract that I was not responsible for the film's budget.

“Maybe it's to add legitimacy to his copyright claim?” I thought.

No. It wasn't. He's paid me for other shorts, with many dollars, and I still work with him to this day.

On a separate occasion a different production company approached me about writing a script for them. I had connected with one of the actors in the film over social media and he sent me a message asking if I was interested in penning a feature film, a war drama of sorts. At that point I'd only written comedies and horror. Nothing else was listed on my web page. I assumed it was a spam message he sent to all of his new contacts.

It wasn't. I signed a contract for deferred compensation, meaning a slice of profits for the film if made, a recommendation letter and permission to use portions of the script as writing samples.

The director was pleased enough with my work that he hired me to write a short film with similar themes. Unlike the feature film, he paid me for the script with a check, not a slice of possible profits.

Part of my success at this point is my attitude. Searching my name on the web drags up results from the New York Post, L.A. Weekly and Amazon.com's book section. Aside from a few blog posts over the years, none of them have been self-published. I've established that I know how to tell a story, not only when it comes from my own head but also when I've cobbled it together from the words and recollections of others. Neither is an easy feat, but I've done both.

When a producer/director asked me to pay her to film a fake political ad I turned her down. Her only work sample was an uncredited reel from an advertising company. Searching the net didn't turn up her name in association with the advertising company, let alone an IMDB. Even if it did, I wouldn't have hired her.

I had put in my work. I had written biting satires of America's two mainstream political candidates and their supporters. My job was done. I was only giving away the shorts because they wouldn't be relevant after the election, unless the debacle repeats itself in four years. Fuck. I just winced.

Even if she was a legitimate commercial filmmaker as she claimed to be, I wouldn't have paid her. That's not my job. Producers raise funds to pay the cast and crew, which includes writers.

Another director once took an interested in a script I'd written, changed a few key points without my permission, added his name to the byline and asked me to help him with a crowdfunding campaign to pay the crew. He wanted to kill the theme of the script  and help him raise money to bring a bastardized version of a feminist piece I'd written based on true accounts—he was messing with people's lives, man!—for not a cent.

I'm not an award winning author, but I am a writer. It's paid my bills. Screenwriting has only intermittently paid my modest phone bill—I only recently upgraded from a flip phone—, but that's a bill none the less. Professionals read my work and see it as an opportunity to earn a living, further their careers or both.

I'm a proven commodity and I act like it. There's enough jargon entrenched in Hollywood and the film business to paralyze the entire staff at Merriam and Webster's with panic attacks. I've had person after person start sentences with “in the industry” and lecture me.

I use the word person and not professional because almost no bonafide professional has used that as an excuse to waste my time while padding their ego.

That's not to say I'm cocky. Far from from it. Most of the individuals mentioned in the blog don't know I hold them in such low self-esteem. I'm polite and respectful in my professional correspondence. When it's time to step away from a business relationship I exercise tact.

Part of it is my approach. I handle most of my business through email. It's harder to call someone's bluff through a computer screen. I'll ask them how much they're paying me for a script. If a professional refuses to pay me for a script or work with me for another reason and I still want to work with them, sometimes I'll follow-up with an email some months later. For the purposes of negotiating a better script, I recommend sending them a link to a filmed version of the piece you wrote that they wanted for free and the amount you were paid and ask if they're looking for scripts.

In simple terms, I demand a certain level of respect from collaborators as should all screenwriters.

If you're reading this, you're either an aspiring screenwriter or are considering it. You may be a better writer than I am; you may not be.

But if you've written a script worth filming the best way to find out is to act like you have.

Don't lower the value of your work because a cheapskate producer or con artist refuses to pay you.

You've done a job. It's worth compensation. Art is not easy, and it shouldn't be treated as such.

What screenwriters do is work. Don't let greedy businessmen with no passion for artistic endeavors cut the writer out to balance a budget when they're integral to their success.

That's not to say I don't work for free, but I do it under special circumstances. I forget about my bank account when I know the chances of getting a project I'm passionate about will be decimated if I demand payment or if it's the opportunity to work with an established professional that produces work of a quality I aspire to.

I'm not a rookie anymore. I've learned the jargon and I've got a resume on top of my other credentials. I've proven my worth in more than one field of writing.

Short scripts are worth money and producers will pay you for them.

Ironically, I'll end this piece with a paraphrase of a con artist played by Ben Affleck in the film Boiler Room.

“Act as if.”

Because you can be.