MAKING OTHER PLANS (aka DON'T QUIT YOUR DAY JOB)

MAKING OTHER PLANS 

(aka DON'T QUIT YOUR DAY JOB)

by Rob Tobin

I’ve been face down on the literary canvas for some time now, having been cold cocked, upper-cutted, right crossed, and jabbed into submission or at least a serious stupor by the film industry I’ve spent the last 25 years trying to fight my way into. And as I lay there a couple of days ago, bleeding from my eyes, ears, nose and navel, in a pool of my own sweat, blood and crocodile tears of self-pity, Talentville head honcho Ben Cahan leaned down and yelled into my ear with the voice of a marine drill sergeant, ordering me to write another damned article for Talentville. Who the hell was I to argue? Besides, that had to be easier than trying to deal logically with an industry whose biggest accomplishment in the last year was to film a sequel to “Dumb and Dumber.”

So I dragged myself to my ass – couldn’t quite make it all the way to my feet on my first try. And as I sat there, I wondered whether I actually had anything left to say to Talentville screenwriters.

And you know what? I’m not sure I do. I know – I’ve written two books on screenwriting, appeared in instructional DVDs, been flown around the country, Canada and even Europe to pontificate on screenwriting and story. Hell, I once stood in a 1300 year old chateau in the south of France, sipping the finest cognac while chatting with the local countess who let my wife and I handle letters written by Benjamin Franklin to one of her ancestors. All this because the royal lady had sponsored an animation festival to which I’d been flown to speak about story structure in animated films.

But times have changed. Now, don’t worry: this is not going to be another article either bemoaning or celebrating the impact of digital filmmaking and the internet on the film and television industry. Yeah, it’s great that Netflix and Hulu and Amazon and the Three Day Suit Broker are now creating original content. Yeah, it’s great that more people than ever can now make their own films, even feature films, for a fraction of what it once cost. But the bottom line is still this: can you make a living from writing screenplays? 

It’s possible… but not likely. 

More people play for the NBA than earn a decent living as feature film writers. And even NBA bench sitters can earn more than superstar screenwriters. The situation is a bit better in television, but... 

... rather than bemoan the already well known fact that screenwriting is a sucker’s game for most of us seeking to make a decent living from it, let’s discuss what we can do about it. Well, we can quit. Not necessarily quit writing itself, but we can quit trying to make a full-time living from it. 

That may sound defeatist, but there’s a fine line between optimism and delusion. Optimism is a talented and hard-working young college basketball player believing he can buck incredible odds to make it to the NBA. Delusion is a million young college players all believing they can make it to the NBA, and giving up everything else in order to do it. 

Maybe 300 feature screenwriters and a slightly larger number of television writers earn a decent living. That’s out of hundreds of thousands or maybe even millions of screenwriters struggling to make it. 

The difficulty is the Vegas factor

Some of us make it, which gives all of us the false hope that we can make it too. Yes, it is theoretically possible to win big in Vegas, and that’s enough to sucker us into believing that we can win big. Which is okay, as long as you don’t have a lot riding on it.

But a lot of us screenwriters have everything riding on it.  And a lot of us lose our families, our careers, our financial futures, and our emotional health in the attempt to make it. And the carrot is always dangling there right in front of us, seemingly within reach. “Hey, John Schmuckinheimer just sold a script for $1 million.” I’m sure he did, but how many other Johns (pun intended) sold scripts for any amount of money this year? Not many.

So yes; quitting should be seen as a viable alternative to wasting your life trying to “make it” as a screenwriter. Or, put another way, NOT quitting is viable alternative – NOT quitting your day job. 

One way to look at it is this: if you are both passionate and skilled as a screenwriter, you should be able to keep your day gig, meet your responsibilities, pay your bills, support your family (if you have one), plan for your financial future, and still find time to write “on the side.” I’ve done it for a quarter of a century. And, if you truly are talented and devoted, and if it’s meant to happen, you will sell that script or get that assignment that will allow you to quit your day job and turn to full-time screenwriting.

See, the mistake is in putting the cart before the horse. Don’t quit your day job in order to make it as a screenwriter. Quit your day job WHEN you make it as a screenwriter.

Okay, so “keep your day job” really is good advice after all. And it can actually make your writing better too, because you won’t have the pressure of trying to succeed getting in the way of that writing. There may be people who write better while unemployed, about to be evicted, and hungry from not having eaten for several days. If you’re one of those people, have at it. If not… don’t quit your day job.

The thing is this: chances are that you won’t know until you’re a lot older whether you’re going to make it as a writer. We all know it can take years or even decades to make it. So you can start screenwriting at 20 and not really know until you’re in your 50s that it probably isn’t going to happen. (To be frank, of course, the aforementioned odds will tell you at any age that it probably isn’t going to happen, but…). 

So, you wake up at 57, finally realizing that that negative old guy Rob thirty five years ago was right: it ain’t gonna’ happen. And you’ve blown it. You worked as a waiter that whole time so that you wouldn’t get distracted; you didn’t start a family or even worse you started one and can’t support it; you’ve lost relationship after relationship, all because you were so f’ing SURE you would make it.

Don’t be that guy or gal. Look, you want to give it your best shot. I understand, because I did that. I sacrificed everything. But luckily I met a woman who helped me see the importance of making a life for myself outside of my obsession with screenwriting. I started late, but not too late. And I kept writing on the side. I won contests. I got the occasional writing assignment. Even got a small credit or two. I wrote books to help other screenwriters. Had a great time being flown around to discuss screenwriting. And I did all of that while holding a day gig and making enough to invest and build for my retirement.

Retirement? Who the f*ck wants to retire if you can’t make it as a screenwriter? I do. I’ve never quit writing. Even as I lay on that literary canvas, truth be told I was thinking about my next script, my next pitch, my next screenwriting contest. And I still, in the back of my wrinkled old bald head, still harbor the thought that maybe this will be the script that gets me there, or that producer will be the one to realize how brilliant I am and be able to do something about it.

Look, I know this is the opposite of preaching to the choir. It’s more like advocating surrender to the troops. Not a very receptive audience. I get it. I was there. Part of me is still there. So I won’t be disappointed if most of you stick your tongues out at me, put your thumbs to your noses and wiggle your fingers at me while blowing me a Bronx cheer. It’s okay. I’m older than most of you, and I’ve been writing longer, so I’ve seen more scenery, experienced more events and have more perspective. But I also remember what it’s like to have that absolute (if somewhat desperate) certainty that you, unlike the rest of us, will actually make it.

Fine, you’re gonna’ make it, you’re gonna’ win the lottery, marry Halle Berry, and win a box of Oscars. But let me say one last thing here: if you’re so good, and so certain that you’re good, then why do you need to give up an outside career? Just… get the education you need in a field you enjoy or at least don’t hate, get a well-paying day job if you can, and keep it for a few weeks until Spielberg calls with that wild-eyed need to produce your scripts. After all, it shouldn’t be long, right? So what harm is there in preparing for a decent life in the meantime? I mean, if you start that accounting or engineering or medical training, you’ll probably get that call from Steve after you’re only a few weeks into it anyway, and you won’t even have to finish your course. 

And… if it takes a bit longer for Steve to call, maybe ten years instead of ten days, then you will have trained for a career, and made some nice money in the meantime. So when he does call, maybe you’ll already own your own house and have met and married the girl or boy of your dreams, and nothing will be lost. And, to boot, you’ll have gained a decade of real-life experience to use in your brilliant scripts. And you’ll probably have actually extended your writing career. I mean… how long would you actually keep writing if you’re homeless, or working double shifts as a waiter in the odd belief that working at a lower-paying job will somehow allow you to better concentrate on your writing?

And if it takes twenty years for you to make it, that’s okay too, because you’ll be even more stable financially if you’ve been able to keep your day job and build a career, home, bank account, savings, and pension. 

And if it never happens… you’ll have had a lifetime of joy that comes from writing, AND you’ll have a comfortable life and an even more comfortable retirement. You’ll also have made enough money to meet your obligations, support your family and loved ones, and help others as well as yourself.

You never have to actually give up writing. You keep on writing on the side, and create an enjoyable, prosperous life while waiting for that call that may or may not ever come.

Think about it. And remember what John Lennon said: “Life is what happens while you’re making other plans.” A day job is life. Winning Oscars is the other plan.

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