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Holiday Guest
Pitching a No-Hitter
A Guest Entry by Paul Davidson
As a WGA member and currently on-strike writer, my mind often turns
back to the rosier days of navigating the film industry. The days of
studio parties with open bars, promotional screenings with a free
drink (of your choice) and a bag of popcorn. Starlets, writing
assignments, and above all...the lottery of the writer's world...
The Pitch.
As I am unable to pitch during these negotiating times, I thought what
better way to reminisce about the glory that IS pitching projects to
producers and studios, than to think back to my favorite Top 3 moments
in the world of pitching.
Ironically, being a successful writer in Hollywood is one-part writing
talent, one-part access and one-part salesmanship. If you can write,
that's a great start -- but if you have the access to get to the right
people and the ability to sell a movie about a talking tree to Scott
Rudin, then you will have a long and prosperous career as a
screenwriter. The following 3 moments in my history, all involving
pitching a project, were not foreshadowing a successful future. And
yet, despite these bumps in the road, I seem to still be doing ok.
#3: In the middle of a pitch to an Executive at a well-known
Producer's shingle, the woman stopped me with an important question.
I was pleased, since most executives would rather say nothing, smile
at the end, and see you on your merry way. But she, it appeared was
different. I paused in the pitch, and allowed her the question.
"Would you mind if we finished this pitch in my car...on the way to
the shop? I need an oil change." I looked around for the hidden
cameras, but there were none. So I finished my pitch in her car, on
the way to a Pep Boys. Did it sell? Eh, not so much.
#2: One year I found myself pitching the unscripted version of one of
my humor books to one of the major three networks. Just before going
into the pitch my agent said to me, "This Executive never laughs. I
have a standing offer on the table for all my clients -- if you can
get her to laugh, I'll give you fifty bucks. And if you CAN get her
to laugh, your bound to sell this project." I took the offer with an
excitement that I had not rivaled before in any previous pitch as it
was now a game set up before me. In the pitch, I tried my hardest --
eventually turning my random comments in the pitch into a lucrative
outcome. The Executive laughed numerous times. My agent paid me
fifty bucks. And the project? Didn't sell.
#1: The Producers behind ELF are a fun group of people. Great sense
of humor, great instincts, and great animal lovers. That's why, when
I happened upon their offices, I wasn't surprised to see that the head
of the company allows his dog to be a part of all pitches. Not
because he's like the monkey from that classic old Disney movie where
the monkey picks successful TV shows, but just because they love their
dog so much. He sticks close. As I sat down on a fluffy couch
opposite two of the Executives, the lumbering dog settled in next to
me for what appeared to be a bit of a nap. "Are you okay with him
next to you?" they asked. "Of course," I replied. For what negative
situation could come out of ME, pitching next to a DOG. About five
minutes into my pitch there was a deafening SNORING sound coming from,
yes you guessed it -- the dog. I was assured the dog's snoring habits
had nothing to do with the entertainment value of my pitch. But
still. Didn't sell.
The odds are against you, it seems. But if you keep trying, and keep
rolling with the punches, you'll eventually (like I did with a network
TV pilot) sell something in the room. Eventually, if you swing at a
hundred balls, you'll hit one.
Or you'll get hit by one.
Either way, there's some kind of good odds hidden in the mix.
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