I wrote a screenplay a while ago called Sugar Mountain. I got an agent who gave it to a big deal producer, BDP, we’ll call him. BDP worked with me for six intense weeks, taking the script through six revisions.
Every phone session lasted exactly an hour and his notes were amazing. He taught me how to write action. My scenes were too talky. “We’re not Woody Allen,” he once remarked.
BDP was in New York and I got to meet him for our last session in his apartment at the Pierre. Heady days for a girl with a dream and an acceptance speech at the ready.
Long story short, BDP shared my script with two or three actors who declined and then he dropped the project. Then my agent stopped returning my phonecalls. My Cinderella story ended in my own little corner, in my own little chair.
Why am I writing about this? Because I decided that I would send out Sugar Mountain to ten producers on my own before throwing in the towel.
Which leads me to: my cover letter. I have to write a freakin’ cover letter. Me, who has been advising and critiquing cover letters for nearly 25 years. Talk about stage fright. I actually cleaned out the attic this morning as a stalling tactic. Does anyone have any mending or ironing to do?
If I have the guts, I’m going to post my query letter (when I’m done mowing the lawn), and keep you posted on how my script crashes and burns. Just for sport.
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