All my hopes and dreams fit in a 8×11 envelope. Or at least a lot of them.
I mailed out the finished script on Saturday, along with the first 20 pages of the second and third sequel that would follow after. I thought that might sweeten the deal, given that they wouldn’t just be getting the next sequel, they’d be getting a whole trilogy if they picked up my script(s). Then again, it could also work very, very much against me if they see the stack of what they perceive to be “overkill” and throw it away rather than bothering to read it. But this is the risk I chose to take.
Here’s my strategy: I sent out four scripts to four different people. 1) Bryan Singer, because he’s working on the “next” X-men movie already and just threw out the old script a few months back. 2) Lauren Shuler Donner, one of the producers of all of the X-movies, including one through three and the Wolverine spin-off, because she’s the money behind the films and if she likes what she reads, she has the power to make it happen. 3) 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, this is the one least likely to illicit any response given that all they care about is retaining franchise rights and keeping it viable, but on the off chance they do read it and like it they’ll be the most powerful ally to have on my side. And finally 4) Marvel Enterprises, even though I’m not sure where they stand on involvement with the X-franchise, if nothing else it could be an in with the company to potentially work on other films they’re actually in production with.
I don’t know how sound that strategy really is, but it’s the best one I could come up with. And it cost a small fortune to put into action, so hopefully something good comes out of it other than a fleeting sense of confidence that quickly faded.
Maybe it’s just me, but when I’m working on a project and I get in a rhythm, I start to feel really good about what I’m doing and how it’s going to impact people. And generally once I’m satisfied with what I’ve done, I get really confident about how it’s going to perform. But then as the time to stop telling and start showing creeps up, confidence slowly but surely drips away until the moment when it’s “do or die”. And finally it happens; my film starts to play or my script’s getting read or whatever. And I agonize trying to read reactions before they tell me out loud what they’re thinking. And then… feedback. Rarely, if ever, have my fears of complete and utter rejection been realized. Usually it’s fairly well-received, a far cry from what I’ve convinced myself will be me getting ripped to shreds. Now I can almost find a sense of comfort in the process. But not anymore.
Because everything is completely different. The scripts arrive on Wednesday. But even if they’re delivered, they may never be opened or read for legal reasons (which I’ve covered but they may not care anyways). And whether or not they’re read before being simply disposed of, there’s no guarantee they’ll contact me in any way, shape, or form. The waiting game may pay off in any kind of feedback. So the question becomes, what am I waiting for?
And the answer is, nothing. I shouldn’t be waiting to hear back, because that may never happen. I should be taking a deep breath and moving on to the next project. Which is very strange but it makes all the sense in the world. There’s no reason to slow down. I’m far from burnt out. I feel like I’ve just begun (good thing too, because I have) and now’s not the time to be sitting on my heels while other people charge forward and make my ideas happen before I do.
So I’ve decided to take this whole script/trilogy-writing experience for what it was and keep moving. Try to finish a comedy I’ve been developing for a while before I dive into another planned adaptation (Hollywood eats those things up like crazy).
Hope you enjoy the ride, co-pilots of mine.