“If Independent filmmaking is all about rewriting the rules, then how can there be rules to rewriting independent films? There might be a few, and believe it or not, the screenwriter will not only create the world of the film, but sometimes save it. And sometimes, screenwriters can even earn a living doing it,” an introduction to “The Art of Screenwriting,” a film-panel held at the 2003 SXSW Film Conference.

I’m seated in a room full of aspiring writers, curious film students, screenwriters, and reporters, among others. Minutes pass by, and it is getting fuller to a point there are no seats, and now, many attendees stand in the back row taking out their pens and papers getting ready to jot down notes. It’s nearly 1:30 PM on Sunday March 9th of 2003, and I’m looking ahead to see five panelists waiting to discuss “The Art of Screenwriting” at the SXSW Film Conference in Austin, Texas. The presenters include Robert Wilonsky (panel moderator and Pop Culture Editor, The Dallas Observer), Tim McCanlies (screenwriter, “The Iron Giant” 1999, “Secondhand Lions” 2003), Mike Jones (scr., “Evenhand” 2002), Brent Hanley (scr., “Frailty” 2002, “Holes” 2003), and George Huang (scr., “Swimming With Sharks” 1994, “The Faculty” 1998, “How To Make A Monster” 2001).

The panel talked about many themes and sub-themes about screenwriting — much brought up by the audience. The five main topics in debate were: If writers are treated poorly in the film industry? Why the presenters became screenwriters? (I.e. related with integrity and initial difficulties starting in this job). If screenwriters can write for an audience? Does music influence writing? And if screenwriters feel weird with rewrites?

The objective of the conference was a type of 101-filmmaking-guide to allow attendees to openly interact with actual screenwriters, professionals in the film business. It proved to be highly educational because it really was a fluid exchange of questions and answers, which set a strong and inspiring discussion about what the screenwriters encountered in their careers. In addition, the panelists revealed some precaution tips about the field to even solutions for novice writers. As a result, the hour and a half stimulated quickly for all that could be prolonged in-depth. And I know there are many writers out there who didn’t attend the event; therefore a retrospective of the “The Art of Screenwriting” from the SXSW to present time at Scene 360 will extend important themes discussed. On our site, we have received over the past years numerous e-mails from viewers with questions about scriptwriting and filmmaking — so today we invite two screenwriters from the same panel, Mike Jones and George Huang for an exclusive interview. —By Adriana de Barros

Scene 360: Why did you become a screenwriter?

Mike Jones: People seemed to like the stories I told, so I kept at it. As my stories were always so dialogue specific screenwriting was a natural fit.

George Huang: I’ve always loved movies and wanted to be a part of making them. So I kicked around in all kinds of Hollywood jobs for years. I worked as an assistant to producers and studio executives, but realized I didn’t want to become one of them. While I respected what they did, I wanted to be more involved with telling the story. So I became a writer.



What software do you use for your writing?

MJ: Final Draft.

GH: Final Draft.



How did your writing evolve (i.e. through short stories, poetry, other)?

MJ: Short screenplays I wrote in film school began to take on a longer life. After my first screenplay was done, I used a minor character from it to fashion the next script. I've done that ever since.

GH: My 7th grade English teacher, Cathy Reider, told me that I was a really good writer and I’ve been clinging to that one piece of encouragement for the last 20 years. I wrote for the school paper. I wrote essays in order to win some scholarship cash. But my parents didn’t approve of me majoring in English or Journalism because they didn’t think you could make a living with those disciplines. So I became a business major and was crunching numbers as a studio accountant (yet another of my many Hollywood jobs) for years before I decided to give writing a shot.



Mike Jones commented at the SXSW workshop, “Talent is where the interest lies.” When did you realize you had talent in this field?

MJ: Only when other people started telling me I had a talent. But that is deceptive, since you can always find someone who says nice things about your work.

GH: I’m still not sure whether I have true talent. I’ve met and read other writers who are on a whole different level with skills that make realize just what a hack you are. But I do think I’m competent, and I do work hard… which can be enough.

When I was an accountant, I would moonlight as a script reader for a producer on the lot. And I read sooooo many bad scripts that one day I decided to just start writing. Hell, if I were just competent it would be better than the crap I was reading.



Do you think a part of you exists in each story you write (i.e. a type of a semi-autobiography)?

MJ: Sometimes, but not always. If I'm always writing about myself then I think my characters will become predictable and boring. It's also much easier to write about, and build, a character whose traits aren't yours but you find incredibly interesting. I love figuring out how those people will handle certain situations.

GH: The better stories absolutely have a piece of me in them. Without that personal investment, it just feels like I’m moving words around, and that’s no fun. But if you get into character, do a certain amount of role-playing when you write, then you’re having fun. And that energy gets translated onto the page.



How does your usual writing process go about: do you find a character first to revolve the storyline, or look for a plot/location to base the story, and go from there?

MJ: Like I mentioned previously, I like finding the character and screwing up their life as much as I can, then seeing how they'll get out of it. Character always seems to come first, for me. Once I find a good character, they'll practically write their own dialogue.

GH: Part of the exciting thing of writing process is there is nothing “usual” about it. (This can also be one of its most frustrating aspects about it as well.) You never know what’s going to set you off to write a story. Sometimes it can be a location. Sometimes it can be a character trait. Sometimes it can be a cool title. You just never know.

Whatever it is that revs me up, it can usually be boiled down to a what if… question. I might see something, or read about someone, then wonder what might happen if I introduced a completely incongruous event into the equation. What if an assistant snapped and took his boss hostage? What if someone was allergic to sunlight? What if a S.W.A.T. team lost all their weapons and tactical advantage? But because the characters/setting/situation is grounded in something real, it allows me to run free with creating some entertaining scenarios.



What is the best phase for you in your writing: the initial process of finding a character/plot, the middle-development process to evolving of story, or the final version of reading the completed-script?

MJ: Reading final version is the most fun. Once it’s on paper, I feel I can see it a lot more clearly then in my scattered head. I can begin to find the themes, discover new ones, and fill in the gaps.

GH: The actual sitting down and writing part is always tough. It never gets easier, but that used to frustrate the hell out of me. But as I get older, I’m finding that the bad days are just part of the process.

The hardest part is “completing” the script. I hate letting go of a script and am notoriously disrespectful of deadlines. Unless it’s a production re-write for a scene that shoots immediately, I am constantly trying to tweak the work and fix things until the bitter end.



Do you have to be careful with basing ideas from daily life, literature to watching films, without unintentionally infringing a copyright?

MJ: It's never been a worry for me. I do have to worry about writing about something I've already covered in a previous script. I've come close to suing myself several times.

GH: I’ve never let copyright infringement become a worry in the writing process. Believe me, you’ve got tons of other problems that will suck up your time. And while there is a thin line between “inspiration” and “infringement”, the truth is… there aren’t that many original stories out there. They’ve all been told. What makes them truly original is how you tell them.



Music is a big inspiration to most people. Have you ever been under the influence of a song that sparked a brilliant story?

MJ: Every script on mine has a moment like that. Music helps find the rhythm for certain scenes.

GH: I listen to music all the time when I write. It helps set the mood for the piece, helps me to get into character, and most importantly, provides energy in what can otherwise be very stifling work. When you’re in a room by yourself all day, you need to have something like loud music to get the juices flowing.

I’ve never been directly influenced by any one song, but I’m sure the irony of Paul Westerberg or whatever I’m listening to at the moment seeps its way into the writing.



What are some of the techniques one should use to improve his/her writing (i.e. from skills to knowing how convincing a script is...)?

MJ: Reading other good writers is the best education. Reading things that work, thinking about why they work, discovering new narrative techniques — all that can be done outside of any how-to book or creative writing course.

GH: Read your work out loud. How it sounds can often be worlds apart from how it looks on the page. And ultimately, this is a work that’s going to be performed, not read. Once you start reading things out loud, the problems make themselves very obvious.



Can you write for an audience?

MJ: Every screenwriter should write for an audience. But an audience isn’t a general term. There are all kinds of different audiences. The trick is to find your kind of audience and write for them.

GH: I always write for an audience — the audience of me. I write scenes that I’d like to see, dialogue I’d like to hear. And hopefully, my tastes are aligned closely with those of the paying public.



Do screenwriters get treated poorly in Hollywood in comparison to other film professions such as directors, actors, etc.?

MJ: In my experience, yes they often do. Screenwriting isn’t considered a respectable craft. Since everyone feels they can do it, it seems to grant a license to change a writer's words on a whim.

GH: There definitely seems to be an image of screenwriters being treated like dogs by Hollywood. But try being a P.A. or assistant (which I did for seven years). Given a choice, I’d much rather be treated like a dog than dog-shit.

Yes, directors and actors seem to get many more perks by comparison. But as a writer, I get the best perk of all: I don’t have to get up at 5 a.m. and drive myself out to a shoot in the middle of a muddy swamp for an 18-hour day in below-freezing temperatures. I can roll out of bed (or not) and start work whenever and wherever I want. And I get paid for it!



Can you give a rough estimate of how much a screenwriter can make from an independent film to a Hollywood flick?

MJ: It varies anywhere between 30K to six figures.

GH: I’ve made as little as $5,000 for two years of work on my first independent and as much as $50,000 a week on studio re-writes.



Do you think a writer has to become a sales representative to get a script sold?

MJ: A screenwriter has to able to tell a good story. But the "art of the pitch" isn't as scary or specific as a lot of books make it seem. It is really just being able to tell a great campfire or dinner party story. It’s that simple. No formula from any book on how to
pitch should be followed as gospel.

GH: I always like the writing to speak for itself, but screenwriting is a very political job. Because there is so much material out there, you have to become a salesman/politician/rug merchant to get your story noticed. You need to have relationships that’ll move your script up the reading slush pile. Writing is only a small part of the job. Getting those relationships is part of the job too.



“The screenwriter will not only create the world of film, but sometimes save it.” Do you agree with this statement? If yes, why?

MJ: Yes, I think a screenwriter can save a troubled script and, therefore, a troubled world. It’s simply a matter of perspective. Somewhat like jazz, an inspired writer may want to riff from another's idea and take it to different places.

GH: While any film starts with the screenwriter, the world of film is far too collaborative to assign its fate or demise to any one person or profession. Like it or not, we’re all in this together.



Do you think most writers would like to direct their own films? Why?

MJ: I think most writers would like control over their work. Directing is certainly one way. Producing is perhaps more realistic. Directing is an entirely separate craft that requires a different set of tools and parts of the brain a screenwriter isn't used to flexing. Screenwriters who want to direct should study directing, not assume they know how to do it because they wrote it. They may turn out to be their worst enemy.

GH: I think writers are often disappointed by how their films turn out. So yes, the knee-jerk reaction is to direct in order to “protect” your script. But consider this — who can really get the script the resources and budget it needs? You, a first time director? Or a Michael Bay?



Do you prefer to get paid less but have the film go along the lines of your script, or get paid more to accept altered content?

MJ: I've never been given the option to accept more money and have my words altered. Usually, they just do it anyway. If I did, I suppose I'd rather get paid less and have the script remain more or less intact.

GH: I don’t think anyone goes in with the intent of trading your work’s integrity for a higher fee. Ideally, you’d like to have both the money and creative control, but that’s not often the case. So I tend to take projects based not on fees, but based on what’s interesting or exciting to me. If I’m interested and excited about the story, that shows up in the writing and there isn’t any need for substantial changes.

Although, I must admit that I fight changes harder if I’m being paid less…which makes no economic sense. Why spend the energy when the fee is low? But for some reason, if I’m getting less money, I feel that I’m entitled to more creative control…which is an illusory delusion. Nobody truly gets creative control. Any story passes through so many hands that its inevitable that its content will be altered… and sometimes to better effect.



Are you open to rewrites? In which cases do you accept and which do you not?

MJ: I am open to rewrites if I feel I can offer something. I'm not a writer for all seasons. Even if I like the story, I won't take a rewrite job unless I can contribute.

GH: Rewrites are how I make a living, so I have to be open to them… but I take the job only if I have a clear vision of what I can contribute. Otherwise, I’ll pass, because I’ve been involved with re-writes where I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing, and after a couple of weeks, I was begging to give the money back. Writing is painful enough without the confusion.



Do you now make restrictions when selling a script, so it doesn't change from your initial concept to the final director's cut?

MJ: I would love to be at a point to do that, but I'm not. As I mentioned before, for certain scripts I would consider taking a producer role to insure the project stays true. Every screenwriter should consider that.

GH: There’s only one writer I know of who’s had the power to contractually protect his work. (Ron Bass/MY BEST FRIEND’S WEDDING) And while I would love to make restrictions, it’s nearly impossible to enforce them. On one movie I did, the studio was contractually bound to give me a preview screening, but they wouldn’t. And when my lawyer showed them the contract, the studio said “We don’t care. Sue us.” But they’re a giant worldwide entertainment conglomerate with buildings of lawyers. I’m just one guy. Even having a contract won’t protect your “creative rights.”

If you want to protect your work, it’s far more effective to establish a dialogue with everyone involved to make sure you’re all telling the same story.



What are some of the challenges of writing from the heart in today's competitive and heavily commercialized film industry?

MJ: Oftentimes, I think that the reason Hollywood films are so bad on such a basic script level is that screenwriters don't put their heart in it in first place. And in many instances, why should they? For certain studios, screenwriters know their work will
get altered, rewritten, discarded, etc. Why put your heart into something when you know it will be broken? This isn't true for all film executives. Additionally, I've found a nice niche in the independent film world. Though I usually only get paid a fraction of my studio rate, I'm working on much better material whether it be a rewrite or an
adaptation. I'm working with interesting producers who take chances and, most importantly, I feel I'm growing as a writer.

GH: The biggest challenge of writing from the heart is that nobody cares. “Heart” never seems to be the primary concern in the business. The business is far more concerned with marketing, budget, and box-office. To them, it’s about the bottom line. They need “product.” Not film.

This can be frustrating because writing from the heart — creating good characters and rich themes — is such an enormous task. And if it’s not anyone’s primary concern, if you know someone will probably cut the heart out with changes that are out of your control, then it becomes very easy to just let it fall by the wayside. If nobody else cares about this stuff, why should you?

But you do care… a lot. And that’s any writer’s dilemma. Ultimately, you can’t ever expect to be rewarded for that aspect of the work. You have to take your own personal satisfaction from it and let the writing itself be the reward. And that can be difficult to remember at 4 in the morning when you’re stuck and staring at a blank page.