Tag Archives: networking

The N-Word

Posted on July 30, 2012 by | 4 Comments

Maybe it goes without saying, but considering that one of the PAs on my show said it to me last week, I’m going to go ahead and say it explicitly. It is never, ever, EVER okay to say the N-word at work. Never ever.

I’m talking, of course, about “networking.” (This goes hand in hand with its cousin, the c-word… “Connections.”)

During my freshman year at the OFS, “The Freshman Film Club” had their first meeting in the lobby of one of the dorms. One kid spoke up, “My uncle is an agent at Endeavor, and he told me the most important thing is networking. I LOVE networking. I’d like to network right now. I brought a pad of paper, and if everyone could write their name and phone number and email address, then we could network in the future.”

He literally sounded like a spam email. And I hope to God that he’s since washed up and moved back home where he’s the AV tech at his church. (But more likely, he is now an agent at WME.)

Keyser Soze

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that networking didn’t exist.

“Networking” shouldn’t be called “networking.” It should be called “having friends.” Because friends get you work. Friends read your screenplay. Friends talk about you to their friends. “Networks” don’t do that.

And by “friends,” I don’t mean Facebook friends. I have hundreds of Facebook friends. I would go to bat for only, maybe, twelve of them.

Before you tell me about your thesis film from college and how you hope to direct someday or the Modern Family spec you wrote last summer, first get to know me. Treat me like a date. Butter me up. Take me out to dinner. Help me move. Drive me to the airport. If you do that, then maybe after a few dates, you might get lucky. But don’t shake my hand and then expect me to hop into bed with you. That makes you a network-rapist.

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Posted in On the Job

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A New Way to Network

Posted on May 11, 2012 by | 4 Comments

Walking around the lot today, I ran into a UPM I worked for last year. During that show, she had recommended I read a book that was very important to her life. (She also claimed it was the second most read book in the world, but that isn’t actually true.)

Anyway, I had read the book in the intervening year (I checked it out from the library, just for the irony). Seeing an opportunity to network, I went over to talk with her about the book. The conversation went something like this–

TAPA

Hi, [UPM's Name]! How’s it going?

UPM

(blank stare)

...?

The UPM clearly doesn’t recognize TAPA, but she continues anyway...

TAPA

I finally got around to reading Atlas Shrugged.

UPM

Oh, great! What did you think?

TAPA

It made some interesting points, although-

UPM

Well, you see, For twelve years, you have been asking: Who is John Galt? [...long-winded Objectivist rant that I won't reproduce here] ...nor ask another man to live for mine.

TAPA

zzzzZZZksrgh! Whu-? Are you still talking?

Okay, I’m exaggerating1, but that’s the gist.

My point is, she clearly didn’t recognize me, but she pretended to, because I clearly recognized her.

As I’ve said before, a show is like summer camp. You meet a hundred people, spend every waking hour with them for several months, become BFFs with a lot of them, but when the show’s over… you probably won’t ever see them again.

Except, every once in a while, you do see them again. Then you have to rack your brain to remember what show you worked on together, what department they were in, and, most importantly, just who the hell they are.

It’s like that scene in Memento:

“If you think you’re supposed to recognize somebody, you just pretend to. You bluff it, to get a pat on the head.”

Not that a UPM needs a pat on the head from a PA, but you get the point.

Then, suddenly, it occurred to me. What if I hadn’t actually worked for this UPM? She would’ve reacted the exact same way.

She would’ve just rolled with it, talked about whatever with me, and when the conversation ended and I asked if I could send her my resume, she would’ve said yes.

“Ah! There’s a hole in ‘brilliant’ your plan, TAPA!” I hear you saying from across the internet. “If you never worked with her, how would you know where to send your resume?”

“Au, contraire,” I reply. “UPMs are members of the DGA, and are therefore listed in the DGA website’s directory.”

“But TAPA,” you object, “the moral implications of lying for your employment-”

“Shut your face.”

I’m kidding, of course. Not about shutting your face2, but about approaching someone and pretending to know them. I can think of at least a dozen different ways it could blow up in your face.

It’s one of those devilish thoughts that enters your mind from time to time. Like when you pass by a coffee truck that’s designated for another show. No one would know if you just stepped in line and ordered a half double decaffeinated half-caf (with a twist of lemon), right? I mean, there are so many office staff that the set crew never see (accountants, assistant editors, script coordinators, etc), there’s almost no chance anyone would call you out and say, “Hey, you’re not on this show!”

And yet, I can never quite bring myself to do it. I don’t know if it’s because I’m honest3, or because I’m just too afraid of getting caught4.

Still, if anyone does decide to try this technique… man, I would sure like to hear about it.

Footnotes    (↩ returns to text)
  1. Not about the long-winded Objectivist rant. That’s a little too true.↩
  2. Seriously, shut it.↩
  3. No, it’s not.↩
  4. That’s the one.↩

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Posted in Finding a Job, On the Job

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Connecting

Posted on October 28, 2011 by | 1 Comment

Mr. Hart replied to a post from earlier in the week:

Ok so lets say you have a well written screenplay or you are in the process of writing one, how does one go about selling it? For example, I am a PA on a television series and what if I wanted to write a feature screenplay? Who would be an asset on the crew list and/or at the studio itself?

Trying to write a feature and working on a show seems impossible, like I’ve started in the wrong place, but for what it’s worth, it was the only spot I could get a job. So, for the time being this is what the situation is and these are my goals

First of all, I know I’ve gone to this well many times, but read this post by John August: Professional Writing and the Rise of the Amateur.

The gist is, you should present yourself as a professional writer at all times, even when, say, posting a comment on a blog. I count six (or four, depending on how picky you are) grammatical mistakes in Mr. Hart’s first sentence. This does not engender much confidence in his ability to assess whether or not his script is well-written.

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, seeking out “assets” is not the way to approach this business. Or life, really.

I read an interesting book recently, called Never Eat Alone. In it, Keith Ferrazzi explains that you shouldn’t treat networking as an activity in itself. Instead, you should try to connect with people. Sit with different departments at lunch, go out for drinks after wrap, talk to others about their kids, their spouses, their hobbies, their life outside of the show.

In short, make friends.

Someday, when you have written a brilliant screenplay, tell them about it. They’ll be interested. After all, it’s your interest, your hobby, and your friends will like to hear about it. And the more friends you have, the more likely it is you’ll know someone who knows that manager, that producer, that executive who is looking for this exact kind of story.

But before you do any of that, read Josh Olsen’s I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script. Really read it. Then read it again. Then one more time, just to be sure you’re not That Guy.

Then do another pass on the script.

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Posted in On the Job, Writing

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Comic-con: Not for Comics Alone

Posted on July 22, 2011 by | 6 Comments

international logo for nerd

It’s Christmas in July in San Diego. That’s because one of the biggest pop culture celebrations in the country is going on: the San Diego Comic Con, nerd heaven, and the film industry’s bucktoothed mistress.

The Con began as a regular comic book convention, but since the industry discovered it was one of the best gatherings for repeat consumers (ie: FANS), they pretty much took over, for better or for worse, and turned the con into a Disneyland of advertisements. The streets are walled with posters and filled with promoters handing out chotchkies made in China, emblazoned with stuff-to-watch-for, and there’s even an entire cafe devoted to the SyFy Channel where imagination is on the menu (I’m serious. Imagination is listed in the food menu).

For years now it’s been much more than nerd Mecca, it’s a real industry networking event. All the big people in film and TV come down here to be on panels and promote. interestingly, from the stars in the famous Hall H to a the more accessible costume designers or Production Design panel, this is the place where the celebs are especially happy to meet their fans. Sometimes they really don’t get why they’re here, they hole up in their hotel rooms, terrified of the unwashed masses and confused by their own supporters. But others, the betters, are out and about having the most fun they could have on the job. And that’s how they meet you.

Every year I attend comic-con I get into weird and fascinating situations with some really big players, running into them at bars and hotels and trotting alongside, party hopping, squeezing onto guest lists, passing out business cards like a fiend, but mostly just bookmarking great memories.

PAs ARE considered professional industry at comic-con, which means that if you have a decent imdb credit list or have done at least one recognizable production, you can get their free industry badge which allows you entry onto all four days. The more years you visit, the more people you get to know, the more faces you recognize every year, soon every street corner is another connection to something amazing. By now, the con is more of a reunion of industry friends for me.

The wonder of comic-con as a networking event, rather than others like Sundance, Cannes, AFM or others, is the fun of it all. A lot of successful people come here and drop their guard, more content to talk to their fans and have a beer at an open event, crowding into hotel rooms after last call. There’s no need for suits, ties, even heels, wear your costume and flaunt how much you nerdgasm over someone’s work; they will appreciate it more than you know. If you’re smooth, their contacts will follow you into LA and permanently into your life.

To me, SDCC is the clearest signal of work and play in synergy. It’s a not to be missed event for anyone in production who still has the heart of a child. In the no-nonsense, sometimes stifling attitude of regular work life, the looseness and fun of SDCC is a welcome relief.

God bless the con!

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Posted in Off-Topic, On the Job, The Industry

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The Remember Letter

Posted on May 26, 2011 by | Leave a comment

The film industry is notorious for its transience. Finding steady work is like finding the fountain of youth: chasing a mirage. Back in the golden days of Hollywood, crew were devoted to a studio. They signed a contract to just work on Warner pictures or MGM pictures and films were cranked out assembly-line-like as they were made in-house. Stars were locked into picture contracts that devoted them to a particular studio brand their entire careers. Nowadays, that idea is stone dead.

More than ever, since the writer’s strike of ’07, it’s all about the “independent contractor.” All film people (if they aren’t part of the corporate machine, ie: they actually work in production) are technically self-employed, according to the tax code. Often a company rehires its entire crew from scratch when revving up a new project. Whether it’s a day long, like a commercial, or the cushy 46 year run of Days Of Our Lives, your contract ends when the show ends, nevermind how long or short it is.

And so we are looking for work almost all the time. Since the projects that pay the big bucks hire off their own Rolodexes rather than touch Monster or Mandy with a ten foot pole, you had better have some good friends up top. We’re all busy people, we can’t be besties with everyone we ever meet, so we have to get used to typing out a shiny turd I call the “remember letter.” That wonderfully awkward piece of prose that says, “Hey! Remember me? We met once at that party/movie with the chickens/panel about Star Trek and we got along/worked well together. I happen to be free for the next few weeks and was letting you know I am available if you know of anyone looking for an assist.”

Yes, even the best of us have to send out these awkward babies to people, even worse they’re often the people we’re most worried about impressing. We have to send a lot of them. In fact, its smart to keep a list of employers or people who are in management circles and let them all know you’re available. Why don’t you let them know you’re available a lot? Like, every two weeks you’re unemployed. Every two weeks contact them and ask for work.

Sounds overbearing? Overeager? What if they don’t like your nagging? What if you frustrate or offend them?

I know “what if.” Nothing if. Nothing will happen. The ones who don’t want to talk to you will block you from their phone. Your emails will file into the spam folder. They’ll tell you to please leave them and their families alone or they’ll call the police. That is IF they are even of that minority of people that will let you know. Most people generally will quietly ignore you because they themselves don’t want to seem like asses, and those people probably weren’t going to hire you anyways.

So if you buck up, it’s ultimately a win-win. We all hate begging and groveling for things, but the most comforting thought I keep in my head regarding such embarrassing necessary evils is that everyone in the field has to go through it. Consider the situation from the receiving end, the production manager who receives not only your message but messages from everyone that they’ve previously worked with who’s looking for work. You are nothing special.

Unless you are special. Unless you make yourself special, special enough that your image truly does float to the top when the next assist job comes up. How do you accomplish that?

By simply doing what I said earlier, calling every two weeks.

The truth is most people don’t even get that far. Most people capitulate and never do press that “send” button. They’re too afraid to speak up, to be forward or to be pushy. By being one of the few that realizes the value and the harmlessness of these routine actions (despite how much we hate them, no one likes asking people they barely know for a job) you are already one of a very few people who has just recently had contact with this employer. He read your email that morning. He simply knows you exist and that you’re available and, if you’re lucky in having worked with him before, that you are reliable. When the current PA turns over for whatever reason, he calls you, because now you exist.

Getting work is often a thing of luck, but it’s not ALL luck. There is effort involved. This is the effort part. If you put in the effort, eventually, at some point, even though during a dry spell it seems like it’ll never happen, you will get work.

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Patience

Posted on July 15, 2010 by | 2 Comments

Conventional wisdom that tells us a guy should wait three days before calling a girl when she gives you her number.

“That’s great dating advice, Anonymous,” you say, “but what does that have to do with being a production assistant?”

I’m glad you asked.

I was at a networking event last night.  Just drinks at a bar with some like-minded people, no big deal.  I made a few connections, had nice conversations, exchanged business cards (I carry one purporting to be a writer; there’s no need for a PA to have a business card).

I wasn’t at the bar too late (I had a 7:00am call), but someone must’ve left sooner, because I had a friend request come over my phone while I was driving home.

Now, the three days rule isn’t exactly hard and fast, but less than three hours is pushing it. An over-eager gesture at the best of circumstances, but this is me we’re talking about.

If Jerry Bruckheimer gives you his card, sure, by all means, go ahead an email him that night.  But me, a “writer” with no credits to his name and who pays the bills being a PA? Yeah, you can sit on my card for a couple days.

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Posted in Finding a Job, The Industry

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Networking

Posted on January 9, 2009 by | 8 Comments

Whatever is making this man upset, Im quit sure he refuses to take it any longer.

Whatever is making this man upset, I'm quite sure he refuses to "take it" any longer.

After working in low budget film for a number of years, I started running into people I’d worked with before. At a certain point, I realized this was a bad sign.

As they say, you’re the average of the five people closest to you. Professionally, the five people closest to me were all working on shitty movies and shittier game shows.

I seriously needed to meet some new people.

So, I quit, busted myself down to PA, and started working on real network shows. I made friends with actual working writers as well as kids my age trying to work their way up.

I started attending networking events, some through my alumni association, others by the power of teh internets. I also started my own writers’ group, and recruited people from Craig’s List.

I used to be told, by people who were old or burnt out or both, that you don’t have to be making mainstream movies to be satisfied, not everyone can make it as a writer or director, and generally making Tv shows with an HVX200 is an okay life.

Now, I’m surrounded by people who won’t settle for second best, who aren’t satisfied with simply getting by, and who are definitely smart enough and talented enough that they can’t imagine anything less than conquering Hollywood.

I like those five people.

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Posted in About Me, On the Job, The Industry

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Making Movies for Fun and No Profit

Posted on June 30, 2008 by | 5 Comments

First of all, Ken Levine somehow stole a blog post idea directly from my head. (This fits with my theory that Rupert Murdoch has a chip my brain, and he’s stealing all my good scripts before I even write them.) Ah, well, it’s probably for the best– he’s a better writer than I am, anyway, and his views on the writer/director subject are more insightful than mine would have been.

Anyway, on to my real post.

I like making movies. It’s why I moved to Los Angeles, why I went to film school, and why I’m willing to work for idiots for less money than what a grocery clerk makes.

The problem is, making movies is a collaborative art (unless you animate it and do all the voices yourself).

Growing up in a small midwestern city, I didn’t know many people who were interested in making movies, let alone willing to put the time and effort it takes to actually write, shoot, and edit one. But once I got to film school, finding collaborators was easy.

That, to me, is the main advantage to film school. You’re surrounded by people who don’t want to do anything but make movies. I was shooting all the time, sometimes my movies, sometimes other people’s. Sure, they were universally lousy, but at least I was filming.

The problem I had working at a production company was that I was the youngest person there. Nobody else was interested in spending their weekends with a DV camera and actors cast from Craig’s list. Once I got into PAing on movies and TV shows, I finally got back to filming just for fun (or artistic expression).

This year, I’ve worked on two friends’ projects, and done two of my own. It’s always a fun way to burn a weekend or two.  It’s hard to get stressed, like you do on a real shoot, because everyone’s working for the love of it (and maybe a slice of pizza).

Even better, in the years since film school, the projects have ceased to suck, and progressed to merely disappointing. In a couple more years, I may attain the vaunted sphere of “adequate.”

Here’s hoping.

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Posted in About Me, The Industry

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Small Talk

Posted on June 13, 2008 by | 2 Comments

I just had a bizarre conversation in the office kitchen. I was making some coffee, and someone came in to grab a pop.

(Yes, “pop.” Look at the drink. Do you see bubbles popping, or sodaing? You bake with soda, you drink pop.)

Anyway, the conversation went like this–

Me: “How’s it going?”
Him: “Pretty good. Our work was mostly front-loaded this episode.”
Me: “Yeah?”
Him: “Yeah. Everybody’s waiting on us. Always a lot of pressure.”
Me: “I imagine.”
Him: “It’s a big push to get it all done, but once it is, it’ll feel good to have the deck cleared.”
Me: “Mm hm.”
Him: “Well, I better get back to it. You know how it is.”

Except… I didn’t.

I had no idea who this guy was, what his department was, or what the hell he was talking about. I kinda recognized his face, but he could have been talking about serial murder for all I know.

Why do people assume I know them? I find myself acting like the guy from Memento, nodding and pretending to know them, just to avoid the awkwardness.

I suppose I could try to learn their names, but… Well, I guess, technically, I could care less. I’m just not sure how.

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Posted in On the Job

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