• Forest for the Trees
  • THE FOREST FOR THE TREES is about writing, publishing and what makes writers tick. This blog is dedicated to the self loathing that afflicts most writers. A community of like-minded malcontents gather here. I post less frequently now, but hopefully with as much vitriol. Please join in! Gluttons for punishment can scroll through the archives.

    If I’ve learned one thing about writers, it’s this: we really are all alone. Thanks for reading. Love, Betsy

Your First Cigarette

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.

Beauty Contest

I’m taking a famous writer to lunch today. I was a huge fan of her work in college. I’m actually sort of a wreck. I mean I know I’ll be fine because I’ve been doing this for, um, twenty-five years. And so far it’s worked out. Still, it’s  actually kind of nice to know that there’s a butterfly or two inside me.

After a pretty quiet spell, it looks as if  there are some very interesting new clients on the horizon. I’m not sure if they’ll all come with me. Writers make the rounds of agents these days, and I encourage them to. It’s like getting a second opinion from a doctor or lawyer. You’re trusting this person with your career. It should be an informed decision. When a writer (stupidly) goes with another agent, I’m always really zen about it. Bitter, but zen.