In 1981 I had an idea for a screenplay. It was a simultaneous realization with my father, actor, Stuart Lancaster (Faster Pussycat Kill Kill, Edward Scissorhands). It was a story about our family, The Ringling Brothers. It took years of research, starts and stops, my father died, my daughter grew up, and finally, after seeing "Water for Elephants," which I felt was inauthentic, I wrote it as a novel, "Ringling, The Last Laugh." Now the novel, was almost there, but some critics called it a "tome," which, perhaps in hindsight, it is. But then I realized I needed to adapt it for the screen. I wrote "Ringling" as a 35 page treatment. It was so long that I might as well have just written the script. Through a friend I was able to pitch it to a fairly successful producer. That producer and two others joined together and challenged me for over a year and a half in which I spent rewriting that treatment over and over and over and cutting it to around five pages. Then they dropped it. My next step was to send out query letters, which I did, to all the people who had produced movies that might be similar, Kennedy, Spielberg, DiCaprio, and many more. Everything was returned with letters which said they can not accept unsolicited material, except one. This was THE ONE. The one person most important to me whom I thought should produce and direct it. Then one day that person's New York office called and said "send it to their manager in L.A." I did. They rejected it saying we can not accept unsolicited material. I wrote back and said [the people] in New York requested it. Two weeks later, ten days ago, I got a call from that (very well known) manager who said The client in New York wants me to read your treatment. I reread it (myself), gulped, and sent it. I was on heavenly pins and needles for over a week. Then last night I got an email. My heart sunk as I read, as it was obvious with "thanks for sending this..." that the client wasn't going to be able to use it. I was massacred. Crushed. Ruined. My ego crushed. My life - over, for about five minutes. When I came to my senses I realized that 99% of all writers may never be able to say that a person of that magnitude covered their screenplay. So today I picked up the pieces. My "Ringling" story will take longer to write. I have a 125 page script. It needs a lot of work. Meanwhile I have a horror film script and had a blast writing it. My wife reminded me of something so important today. It IS all about the journey. Not the destination. If we are not present to the remarkable joy, the pain, loss, gifts, relationships and triumphs of the journey, then what value will their remain in reaching the destination?
2 people like this
I get the same way whenever I'm torn between going in for a re-write or starting on a new project that I'm really excited about. It's a tough choice! The responsible one is obviously to go back and rewrite, but where's the fun in being responsible? I wouldn't worry about rejection letters... don't be crushed! There's no accounting for taste, not everyone is "in" to the same type of movies. We just gotta keep writing!
2 people like this
The worst rejections are the ones that come when you feel you're SO close. But then, as you said, you have to remember how few people even get close. Don't give up on your Ringling script. Especially with the "hook" of your family background, it sounds fascinating.
So what I did was get going on a new script. Just now! I love to write and rewriting is good as long as I can walk away sometimes.
Great attitude Michael, and I believe your Dad was in an early film to pass the Bechdel test... respect!
No disrespect to your wife, but I think it's about both - the journey and the destination. The journey might be a fun time, but if the destination is 20 - 30 years at New Mexico State Prison, and you end up in the middle of a prison riot, was the journey really worth it? I think not. I think the Charles Ringling story has great potential. Mr. Charlie was a legendary business man and showman, and a great American business and marketing pioneer. I would think his story would make for an interesting, entertaining and profitable movie. Assuming you have the rights to his story, through the family estate, maybe you should try to contact a writer you respect - one who specializes in biographies - and make a deal. Then, a movie production company or studio might become interested, and a contract for those story rights could be negotiated. Or, you might try to contact a professional screenwriter and make a deal, and bypass the book step entirely. If it went to film, it would still be your "story", but his/her "script" - unless you co-wrote it. No disrespect intended to you, but maybe you're not nailing the right parts in the right ways to garner the interest that a project like that merits. And maybe you're too close to the subject matter. But that should be a doable project. Good luck, Michael.
It hurts, but so does love. Thanks for sharing your story.
Thanks Steven. My grandmother wrote a play titled "Pearls and Sawdust." You must have some circus in your past. Actually I'm not giving up - not one little bit. This is a huge story - nothing like "The Greatest Show on Earth" whose title is owned by Paramount, but I do have a different version of that too. This is the story that precedes GSOE. This is a story of incredible betrayal. I have other scripts going and it's healthy for me to work on them. It gives me space and breaks my attachment to the family story.
Thanks for your ideas Bill. Charles Ringling was my great grandfather. My story, however has John as the protagonist, the youngest of the 5 original brothers and the last surviving brother who experienced the most horrific betrayal. By the way, John Ringling died on Charley's birthday. I may have been at the project for over 30 years, but have been a successful visual artist since the 1970's. It was only when the crash hit and the art market tanked, that I really began writing. There is one producer who began his interest in film making after he saw "The Greatest Show on Earth" (The movie), as a young man, in New Jersey. I would really like to just get my log line in front of him. Steven Spielberg. As a writer, without an agent, it is really difficult to get anyone to read anything.
Growing up in Chicago, one of the highlights of our year was when the circus came to town. The circus people would walk down the streets from the trainyard to the Amphiteatre, which was a few miles. St. David's Grammar School, my school, was in the middle of the route. Our whole school would get to stand out in front and watch the clowns, elephants, horses walk down the street with other animals in their cages. It was an annual parade that ushered in the arrival of the circus. Tens of thousands of people would crowd the streets as the parade took place and as the circus came to town. Every year, I attended the circus several nights. One night my parents would take me, one night I'd go with my great-grandfather, and one night I'd go with my godfather. Over those years I probably attended the circus 40 different nights over 10 years. One of my best friends was so inspired by the Ringling Brothers Circus, that, while the rest of us went to college, he went to Ringling Brothers Clown College in Sarasota. To this day, he's a working clown and has supported his family ever since. Penn Jillette, Steve-O, and Bill Irwin graduated from Clown College as well. I'll always remember the memories from those circus events - the parades and the shows. This was before the Internet and cable television. Those parade and circus events were not only great fun and exciting to watch, but they helped bond families and friends; made people closer; and made people dream. My great-grandfather was in his 70's and 80's in those years, and we'd walk back and forth from the circus from our house (about two miles.) It was an annual event - us walking back and forth, and talking, and I'll cherish those memories of us being together forever. Thank goodness for the Ringling Brothers!
Ahh. Thank Goodness. They made their biggest break in Chicago in 1895. They opened at Tattersall's and played a 28 day stand. The night parade preceding the show had nearly 400,000 in attendance. It was there - that year that suddenly they rivaled The Greatest Show on Earth, which they would buy 12 years later.