Producing

Great analysis. Spielberg has always understood that the widest audience isn't found at the intersection of spectacle and fear—it's found at the intersection of wonder and humanity. The real special effect isn't the technology; it's making audiences feel something. That's what creates lasting value, both artistically and commercially.

Empathy may be the most underrated distribution strategy in filmmaking

I haven't seen it yet but I can't wait to!!

Thank you, Jeanette Milio. I agree with you 100% and that is what I wanted to convey in my DD review. The first goal of filmmaking is to make audiences feel, it is to play with emotions and now more than ever, emotions such as empathy are, as we say in the fashion world, "the new black" trend thing. This new business asset, for me, means we are changing for a new business strategy, especially on distribution; we need to understand each other more than we fear each other. And communication is the key word :) Thank you for sharing, Jeanette.

And if you are a spiritually grounded person Christina Pickworth, you'll love it in all senses :)

Sandra Isabel An interesting perspective. I especially appreciate your point about emotion and empathy functioning as both creative and commercial assets. As filmmakers, we often discuss storytelling and audience engagement separately, but the strongest films seem to unite the two. When audiences connect emotionally with a story, they're more likely to remember it, recommend it, and carry it with them long after the credits roll. Thank you for sharing your observations from the premiere.

Steffie Wong Very true, Steffie. A great script can only go so far without solid preparation behind it. The more I learn about filmmaking, the more I realize how important pre-production is in preventing problems before they reach the set. Thank you for sharing your insight!

The biggest lesson I learned is that nobody is going to do the work for you.

A lot of writers have this idea that if they can just write a great screenplay, someone will discover it, finance it, cast it, produce it, market it, and distribute it. That's largely a fantasy in today's industry.

If you want a project made, you have to become the driving force behind it. That may mean wearing a dozen different hats—writer, producer, fundraiser, marketer, recruiter, negotiator, and sometimes director. It's often seven days a week of pushing the project forward.

I recently took a film from script to a screening at the Cannes Film Festival in seven months. That didn't happen because the screenplay existed. It happened because there was constant execution every single day to move the project forward.

I remember a great Twitter thread from Christopher McQuarrie years ago where he talked about how writing a script and expecting someone else to do all the work is a fantasy.

Execution is what separates completed films from unfinished projects.

The screenplay is important, of course. But in my experience, it's maybe 10% of getting a movie made. The other 90% is everything that comes after "Fade Out."

Absolutely this - the journey really only begins with the script!

Tony Armer Thank you, Tony. I really appreciate you sharing your experience.

Your point about execution resonates with me. As filmmakers and writers, it's easy to focus on the screenplay, but bringing a project to life requires persistence, networking, problem-solving, and constant effort long after the writing is finished.

Congratulations on taking a film from script to a Cannes screening in such a short time. That's a great example of what can happen when creative work is matched with consistent execution. Thank you for the valuable insight.

Christina Pickworth Thank you, Christina. I couldn't agree more. Writing the script is a major achievement, but it's really the starting point of a much larger journey involving development, collaboration, production, and getting the story in front of an audience.

I believe anyone working in this industry, especially writers, has to genuinely love the craft.

Storytelling is about creating worlds, characters, and experiences that didn't exist before. If you truly love it, you keep creating, regardless of how long the journey takes. Every project finds its own time.

What keeps me motivated is the connection to the final link in the chain: the audience. Every story is ultimately an attempt to reach someone's mind, heart, or imagination.

That's why staying curious and never getting comfortable matters.

hollywood pitchfest july 31st it costs money but it seems in this industry nothing is free you can also see on here who is looking for new material and pitch ur script to a producer its alot cheaper then pitchfest

This is weird - I had a whole post and apparently, Stage32 only wanted to post the first line??

Maybe there was an emoji in the original post? I've had that happen before...one of my messages got cut off because of an emoji.

No - I learnt my lesson from the first time I did that haha! How very odd? This makes me sound demanding though oopsie!!

This is a very good step, Xochi Blymyer and I hope it bring positive results, especially for USA industry :)

I've had several "In Consideration" with ISA, but nothing every happened. And I never found out who was considering my projects. I'm no longer a paid member of ISA.

Also, I don't wanna be sucking up here, but before sending OWA selections to producers/executives, Stage32 gives the identity of the producers/executives so that writers can keep distribution list of where their scripts go. Stage32 is the best site for screenwriters and their scripts.

Yes, we use them for our contests. Very well respected.

I got 'Top Finalist'. When I enquired what happens next, the response was words to the effect 'That's it, old chap...'. They don't give any feedback unless you pay. If you have a screenplay, I'm launching Screen Reads to showcase screenplays in a different way. First 20 are free. https://screen-reads.com

Hi John,

This is a question every serious writer asks when navigating the digital gatekeepers of modern Hollywood. As a script doctor and story architect, I’ve analyzed how these platform funnels operate from both the creative and executive sides.

The reality of the ISA—and similar tracking boards—is that "In Consideration" is a victory of target marketing, but not yet a victory of narrative physics. It usually means your logline, genre alignment, and initial synopsis successfully cleared the first tier of administrative filters. It proves your project looks viable on a spreadsheet.

However, the conversion rate from "In Consideration" to a Full Script Request or a meaningful general meeting depends entirely on how much narrative momentum is felt in those opening ten pages once they actually click the file. Industry readers are looking for a reason to pass within the first act; they read with deficit attention. If your structural architecture doesn’t hook the pacing immediately, or if the internal stakes feel soft, the status stagnates.

Platforms like ISA are fantastic for exposure and breaking geographic barriers, but they are ultimately mirrors of your script's mechanical health. The writers who find consistent success through them are the ones who treat their screenplay not just as a text, but as a highly engineered, market-ready asset.

I'd love to connect in the DMs, John. Navigating these industry pipelines requires a strong strategic blueprint, and it's always great to share insights with a fellow producer and writer.

Best regards,

Ashley, one project that continues to stay with me is The Fifth World. It began as a story about a global tectonic event, but over time it became something much more personal—about inheritance, memory, and the fragile thread connecting one generation to the next. Every time I think I’ve uncovered the heart of the story, another question appears. If someone handed it back to me tomorrow, I’d gladly dive right back into it.

Oh, have I got a heavily truncated, yet still lengthy, story for you...

(Note: Names are changed to protect the participants.)

I was in an improv group with Bitsy, Figaro, Slagathor, Mary Jane, and Timmeh. Bitsy and I bonded over our love of comic books, Batman the Animated Series, and writing. And, in time, Bitsy and I started writing a prospective series as a vehicle for the entire group (main parts for everyone) about a team of super-villains. Figaro and I had talked about doing it before, but Bitsy and I were hammering out the story itself. The characters came easy, as we had based them on all of us.

Then Slagathor got involved. Slagathor wanted to be a part of the creative team (that was Figaro, Bitsy, and me). Against our better judgement, we let Slagathor into the inner circle (partly based on her promises to be able to get eyes on the project, given her connections from when she was on a TV show in her youth).

Bitsy and I, however, wrote the lion's share of the series. Ten episodes for the first season. And we'd also mapped out season 2. We knew these characters backwards and forwards.

The table read proved successful as well. Reactions were mostly favorable. We were then prepping to shoot a teaser scene that would convey the characters, energy, feel, etc., which was the bar fight scene (which also enabled us to not have to showcase most of the powers, therefore not needing special effects).

We trained for months with a professional stunt man. We booked the venue. We rehearsed the scene. The shoot took two-and-a-half days (an extra day than we anticipated, but that's another story). Figaro directed (though, in hindsight, we should have had a different director, especially since Slagathor was also basically the imp in the ear).

And then my daughter was diagnosed with cancer. Don't worry, she's over six years cancer-free now, but at that time, my primary thought was family first for the next six months. So I told the team to find an editor and get it edited. I'd be able to give input, but I couldn't take on a lead role.

Six months later, my daughter rang the cancer-free bell. And the scene still wasn't edited. That ended up proving to be yet one nail in the coffin.

Behind the scenes, Figaro and Slagathor were making things difficult in the improv group for Bitsy and Timmeh. Personal attacks on stage sometimes. Turns out, Slagathor was also quite a bit of a narcissist. I didn't see it to a huge extent, as I wasn't in her crosshairs.

Until I had the audacity to request that, since it was now Covid time, and we were doing shows online, that we upped our professionalism. That meant being professional and punctual. Slagathor and Figaro were notoriously late -- a problem when we were doing live shows, but it got worse when we went online. Apparently, that was unacceptable for Slagathor, who not only berated me during rehearsal, but brought her animosity into one of our live shows. That's a big pet peeve of mine -- that stuff needs to be left offstage.

A line had been drawn. On one side, Bitsy, Timmeh, and I wanted a professional group. Figaro, Slagathor, and Mary Jane didn't. Figaro and I spoke at length about it. I told her that if we weren't going to be professional, I was going to leave the group. Bitsy and Timmeh, unknown to them, were also ready to jump ship.

Slagathor called my bluff. I wasn't bluffing. She once again brought offstage animosity into the show. I announced to the group afterwards that the next one would be my last. Bitsy and Timmeh followed.

The improv group split into two different groups at that point -- Slagathor, Figaro, and Mary Jane remaining with the previous one, and Bitsy, Timmeh, and I formed a different one.

The fracturing, however, also meant that the partnership for the super-villain series was also dead (much to Figaro's surprise, I suppose). Bitsy and I had no desire to work with two unprofessional people, especially those who engaged in personal attacks.

Luckily, Bitsy and I had forethought and retained ownership of the characters. They still have life in them. Unfortunately, Bitsy says that the characters and storylines are too tainted by the involvement of Figaro and Slagathor, so we had to for all intents and purposes shelve the series.

We have a season and a half written, with more episodes plotted out. We know how it ends. We have a barroom brawl teaser scene we can show. I'd like to revisit them, but Bitsy has too much PTSD associated with it. So, unfortunately, this series seems to be the one that got away.

On the plus side, though, Bitsy and I took what we learned and created a better series, our sci-fi comedy series, GOING COMMANDER (with roles written for me and Timmeh). And it's ready to be pitched!

I'm not a producer (yet); I wrote a spec script that was picked up by an independent producer with a track record and great connections. Artistic crew signed on. The producer was sure he could get an A-list director. Financing was coming through an iconic actor in Japan.

And then the March 2011 tsunami hit. The actor and his resources directed their money to the recovery instead. Momentum slowed, then stopped. And never re-started.

That was the biggest of three that came thisclose...

A project can stall at any stage — beginning, middle, or right at the finish line. Budget runs out. Time falls short. Producers back out. Directors delay. Technical teams aren't ready. The reason doesn't matter.

What matters is this: if you still believe in the project — finish it. No matter how late. No matter how long it takes.

But if the project is outdated, the story isn't working, the execution fell short of your vision — let it go. Holding on to something broken only wastes more time and energy.

The real question isn't "what went wrong?"

The real question is: do you still believe in it?

That belief — and only that belief — should decide whether you move forward or walk away.

The very nature of the business is such that Producers often have more "Ones that Got Away" than "Sweeping Successes." I've been lucky enough to work on some truly special projects that never left the cradle, especially in TV. Be it projects we took to market that didn't sell or things that wound up in developmental hell at a network.

But one more positive story I'd like to share is about the film YES, GOD, YES. I had been a huge fan of Karen Maine's work on OBVIOUS CHILD and her short film YES, GOD, YES so I was very excited to meet with her about the feature version. We had an instant rapport and I was eager to join the project. My then boss didn't see the vision but Karen was a real trooper. We worked to refine the script and shape it into something I thought was incredibly special. But, even after all that, my employer still wasn't willing to commit. She had a perceived notion of what the company identity should be and felt that YES, GOD, YES was too far afield. And, sadly, my request to work on the film outside of company time was met with a resounding no.

Flashforward to me sitting in a theater watching the film and unexpectedly seeing my name listed atop the Special Thank Yous. I felt like I had failed Karen and didn't make too much of an effort to reach out after we let the project go, other than sending a congratulatory email when filming started. But she never forgot the time we shared and how it impacted the final product. All of this to say, sometimes the journey matters more than the destination.

The script is what it is, but the pitch deck is how you're going to sell it - and sometimes showing someone how they can sell it, or at least, where you see it sitting in the marketplace can really help. Plus it helps you anticipate and dissolve the 'no's' - you can counter the reasons why people might say 'no' in the pitch deck!

Henry Hereford, I really love how you framed this, especially the comparison to a headshot or a showreel. It's so true. I never thought of that perspective, and it makes sense for me. And I completely agree with you about protecting the script. Sending the deck first is a way of keeping your pages safe, intentional, and in the hands of people who actually want to read them. It’s a filter, but also a boundary, and I think writers need more of those. And when a writer sends a strong deck first, it really does show investment, clarity, and vision. It gets me into the story faster, and it tells me they understand the business side as much as the creative one. I do the same, reading a script in one shot (usually takes me 2 hours with my notes). Beautifully said, Henry, thank you.

Tony Armer, I really appreciate how clearly you put this. And honestly, I’m very aligned with your approach. And you’re right: the deck doesn’t need to be a novel.

No long essays, no industry lectures. Just clarity, intention, and a sense of the film’s identity. When a deck mixes pitch + lookbook elements, that’s when I really feel the project.

I’ve also noticed what you mentioned about investors. Many of them don’t read scripts at all; they respond to vision, team, and marketability first. The deck becomes the doorway, the spark, the “do I want to know more” moment. Thank you for sharing, I appreciate that.

Christina Pickworth, totally agree. The script is the core, but the pitch deck is how you actually sell the thing. And yes, showing where it sits in the market and dissolving the “no’s” before they even appear is such a smart way to use the deck. It’s not just presentation; it’s strategy.

A lot of great perspectives here. To add my 2 cents, I think we've shifted a burden to writers unnecessarily as it pertains to decks. If this is a spec that they're looking to find a producing partner for, I don't expect them to have a deck nor do I really care to see one. I want to read the script and see if the materials speaks to me. I'll likely build a deck myself for anything that I'm then taking out to buyers or potential financing partners. Something that covers the business side of things with additional creative copy from the writer.