Looking over your pages, I note that your first door-opening script (if not a sale) was an adaptation of a novel, and this opened some doors simply because there was a chance the source material would be familiar to those you approached. I adapted something myself, and am jazzed about the result, but word has it one is legally forbidden to distribute same (or even discuss it?) unless the rights to the source have been secured. How did you manage to get past this catch-22? In my case I approached the guy who handles the author's estate -- his former agent -- but got nowhere. Being no one.
Thanks,
Mark
Mark,
Thank you for braving time and space to contact me.
It's amazing how many people put all the work into adapting a book they like without first optioning the rights. Total waste of time unless you're planning on blackmailing the actual owners of the book by threatening to sue unless they buy your script.
Nobody actually needs the film rights to a book until the first day of principal photography. Until that day, producers get exclusive options to purchase the rights to the book, usually renewable every six months for a percentage of the final purchase price, which they keep paying until that magic day the cameras roll. When you hear about some author getting millions for the screen rights to his book, it actually means he got thousands for an option, with millions due only if the film actually gets made.
If you find out that the rights to a book you're interested in have already been optioned, you can just wait out the option. The odds are against the film getting made since the odds are against ANY film getting made. Once the option is up, voila, it's available again. Being no one myself, I was able to convince several agents to give me a crack at books that no one else was interested in. They've got nothing to lose and everything to gain, especially if you offer them partial ownership of your script.
When I secured the rights to the book Another Roadside Attraction, one of the first things my attorney insisted upon was that I track down all the scripts that had already been written based upon the book, and to get letters from the writers admitting that they wrote their scripts without anyone's permission, and that they, in fact, had no claim on the rights to the book. This turned out to be tricky since there were several scripts, but after month of negotiating, we were able to nail everything down.
How did I get the rights in the first place? I ain't no role model but hold on, here's...
The Amazing Story of How I Got the Rights
to Tom Robbins' Another Roadside Attraction
WARNING: Don't try this on your own
About 25 years ago, a music promoter from Seattle I'll call Boyd wanted the rights to Tom Robbins' book Another Roadside Attraction. He called the publisher and found that the option was owned by singer/songwriter Harry Nilsson. He called Harry Nilsson and discovered that the rights had been given to Harry's wife Dianne in a divorce settlement. He called the ex-Mrs. Nilsson and found she was hot on the case. Though there were only a few months left on her option. Ringo Starr had agreed to appear in the picture, and John Lennon, who was doing an album with Nilsson, had agreed to write some music. This was generating interest and she was sure she'd get the film made.
Boyd called the publisher back to make sure he could option the book once the Nilsson option was up. He got some bad news. Another Roadside Attraction had been Tom Robbins' first novel and it didn't sell well, so the option to Nilsson was pretty cheap, a mere thousand dollars against a $10,000 purchase price. But Robbins' second novel, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, had just come out and it was a blockbuster. People who read it fell in love with Tom's writing and were going back to read his first book in paperback, which was suddenly a hot item. (Interesting factoid: Original hardcover copies are now going for $750) Once the Nilsson option was up, Boyd was going to have to pay a LOT more for the option.
The week before the Nilsson option was up, Boyd flew to Los Angeles and met with Dianne Nilsson. He found that her efforts to get the film made had gone nowhere, and she was planning on giving it up. Boyd offered to buy the rights from her for $10,000. She figured what the hell, exercised her option to purchase the rights to the book, and signed them over to Boyd. Robbins and his agent were furious at this end run but there was nothing they could do.
Boyd was elated. He didn't just have an option, he owned the rights to the book forever. Big mistake. He discovered he owned something he didn't need. Like I said, everybody in Hollywood deals in OPTIONS. Nobody actually OWNS anything until that first day of production when everyone gets paid. They want to pay you a small amount for the rights to shop your product for a while, and if it doesn't work out, c'est la vie, the rights go back to you. Actually having the rights outright gives you too much power. People in Hollywood quite literally like to keep their options open. Boyd demanded too much. After many months of trying, he couldn't make a sale, so he headed back to Seattle with his head between his legs.
In Seattle, he was a much bigger fish in a much smaller pond. He discovered that introducing himself to people as the producer of the film of Another Roadside Attraction made their eyes light up, since Tom Robbins is very much a local hero in the northeast. Soon he found he was spending more time shmoozing about Another Roadside Attraction than promoting music. He found people who wanted to invest in the property, but instead of selling options to establish a firm chain of ownership, instead of starting a production company, putting together a budget, and actually raising money for production, like the guys in Mel Brooks' The Producers, he simply sold percentages of his personal ownership. He lived for years by selling pieces of Another Roadside Attraction.
One day Boyd was walking down a street in Seattle when a car pulled up, two guys jumped out, forced him into the car, blindfolded him, took him to a basement somewhere, put a shotgun to his head, and asked him for the $4,000 he owed a guy I'll call Artie. Boyd panicked. He didn't have the money. He asked for a phone. They gave it to him and he started calling everybody he knew who had ever shown an interest in Another Roadside Attraction. Nobody in Seattle would help because he already owed too much.
In Los Angeles, I was working for a commercial producer I'll call John. John asked me if I'd ever heard of Another Roadside Attraction, and I said it was one of my favorite books. (Interesting factoid: Elvis Presley died with a copy of Another Roadside Attraction on the floor beside him.) He told me he had just gotten a very strange phone call from a guy named Boyd. He told me the whole story, and that if I wanted, I could buy the rights to the book from Boyd. I was a musician. What would I do with the rights to a book? He told me that he would share it with me. He knew I was creative. I could write a screenplay, and he'd market it. He owned a big commercial production company, was ready to make the move into features, had several other projects in development, and was moving into offices at Columbia pictures as we spoke. Sounded good to me.
It turned out Artie was in Hollywood. John was creeped out by the guy, but if I wanted to meet with him and pay him off, I could save Boyd's life and buy myself a book. I didn't have $4,000 but I did have two ounces of fine Peruvian cocaine that I had been fronted by a Panamanian friend. (This was the late 70s. I was a musician. So sue me.) John gave me Artie's number, I called, made an appointment for that afternoon, and headed to his office.
Artie was a big successful record and television producer. Major millionaire with fancy offices on the Sunset Strip. His walls were lined with gold records. I was ushered into his office by a stunning secretary. He was a big, friendly, intimidating guy with a strong New York accent who smoked big cigars and was clearly used to getting his way. I was surprised he was making such a big deal over such a measly sum, but he told me Boyd had pissed him off in other ways too.
I told him that Boyd had offered me
Another Roadside Attraction in exchange for paying off his debt. I told Artie I didn't have the cash in hand, but I whipped out one ounce of Peru's finest and offered it to him as a $2,000 down payment. As soon as I received paperwork showing I actually owned
Another Roadside Attraction, I'd pay off the rest of the debt. Artie liked the way I did business. We snorted and shook on it. Became buds. He was a big record producer. Did I mention I was a musician? He ended up letting me use his studio to produce some demos.
Here's one of them.
Boyd didn't know me from Adam so, with a shotgun at his head, he signed over half of his ownership in Another Roadside Attraction to our mutual friend John, who signed over half of HIS ownership to me, agreeing to pay me back my investment as soon as he could. I sold the other ounce and paid off Artie. Hooray. I was in the film biz.
John got some money from his deal with Columbia, so paid me back and I was even. I wrote a script, sent it to Hal Ashby, he agreed to direct, and with his name attached, we were able to get Treat Williams, Richard Dreyfuss, Brooke Adams, Penelope Milford, Robin Williams, and John Belushi on board too. Now I was REALLY in the film biz.
John found a major Hollywood executive producer to put the deal together. I found out that's what executive producers do. They're actually the most important name in the opening credits of a picture. Without the executive producer, the film DEFINITELY wouldn't have gotten made. This guy was great. You wouldn't recognize his name, but he had executive produced dozens of incredible movies. With him in, we were a lock. He was one of the ten people in Hollywood that everybody trusted. John, Boyd, and I had a meeting set with him. John and I showed up first. At this point, we had a lot of agreements from high-profile people but no final deal. He liked the project. He'd smooth everything out between all parties and put together all the paperwork. All we had to do was sign on the dotted line.
Then Boyd showed up with, of all people, Artie, who was smoking a big cigar. Artie explained that anything Boyd owned, he still owned a piece of. The paper we were supposed to sign didn't have any numbers on it. It basically just handed the deal over to the executive producer with the sterling reputation, allowing him to represent the property, with the details to be filled in later. He'd do us good. I signed. John signed.
Artie took a look at it and wouldn't let Boyd sign because it didn't guarantee him a minimum amount of money. "How much money do you think it's worth" the executive producer asked.
"At least a million dollars," Artie said.
"The rights to Even Cowgirls Get the Blues only went for $200,000," we explained. To ask for more for a lesser known book was preposterous. Boyd only owned half the property anyway, which meant he wanted us to get two million total. Impossible.
"Yeah, well, we'll think about it," said Artie. He and Boyd left the room, which now stank of cigar.
The executive producer had only one thing to say. "As long as that guy's involved, I don't want anything to do with this."
And so the deal fell apart.
On the off chance that maybe Artie had something going on his own that I should know about, I met with him again. He confessed to me that Another Roadside Attraction was the only book he had ever read, and HE wanted to make the movie. He could make a better deal than the one we were making. We'd be better off with a piece of HIS deal than he was with a piece of ours. He had written a treatment which Donna Summers was interested in. I read the treatment. I can't tell you what I thought of it because I don't want to meet Luigi.
Artie didn't make the movie. Boyd didn't make the movie. John didn't make the movie. I kept trying. One day, Hal Ashby called me out to his house and told me he wanted me to direct
Another Roadside Attraction and he would produce, but that's
another story.
I still own a piece of it, John still owns a piece of it, Boyd and Artie still pieces of it, and God knows how many other percentages have been promised to God knows how many guys with shotguns. Everyone owns a piece of it but Tom Robbins. (Factoid: The book is still in print and sells around 10,000 copies a month)
So like I said, do as I say, not as I did.
UNDO THE COUP
