The Story Engine: Lisa Holdsworth On Pitch Docs

Lisa Holdsworth knows what she’s talking about. Her TV writing career, which you can see in full on her agency-biog page here, kicked off with an episode of Fat Friends in 2002, then snowballed through the likes of Emmerdale, New Tricks, Blue Murder, Waterloo Road (for which she notably wrote the excellent book-ending instalments of the show’s recent Series Four) and Robin Hood (she has an episode on this very evening - 6.45pm on BBC One). She has a Twitter page here.

The Story Engine event (see general report in my previous post) saw the lovely, funny Lisa giving a top-notch class on pitch documents – those mysterious beasts which most screenwriters would appreciate being given a step-by-step guide to. So here it is: pitch-docs, the Holdsworth way.

“Sell the sizzle not the steak,” said Lisa in her opening, meaning that you’re pushing the core concept, not the minutiae. “You’re also selling yourself. You’re saying, ‘Look how exciting my writing can be. Look how original I am’.”

DON’T…

• … tell the story in minute detail. If you’ve written over two pages, you’re telling too much story.
• … tell us about every character. And try to avoid character clichés: the geeky-but-cool character, or the feisty single mum. Find something interesting and unusual about your characters.
• … tell us the intended TV slot.
• … tell us how it’ll be shot. “If you say it’ll be shot ‘a bit like The Wire’,” says Lisa, “That makes you sound a bit like an arse”.
• … tell us who you intend to cast… unless an actor is attached. Even imagining an actor can limit you, when writing the character.
• … include comparisons to existing characters or other dramas (although Lisa admits this is more her preference, noting, “Do what feels right for your project”.

DO…

• … communicate excitement. Too may pitch docs are too professional and dry. Without actually saying, “You’ll cry! You’ll laugh”, get that across. Be conversational.
• … explain why this needs to be brought to the screen, right now! Because that’s the first question someone like Channel 4 will ask you. Maybe you’ve got an idea for a period costume drama, but it says something about where we are now.
• … make us love/hate the main characters. Even if they’re flawed, are we going to really enjoy spending time with them?
• … tell us why people will watch your show. Here, Lisa added a related point: “If you don’t watch telly, I don’t know why you’re writing it”.
• … pack a punch. You want the reader to be exhausted by the end. Every paragraph needs to finish with “BANG!”. Not literally, of course.
• … leave them wanting more. This is difficult to do without being too obvious. You want to convey the sense that you’re just giving them a taste. Without actually saying it, you’re saying, “Bring me in for a meeting and you’ll get so much more”. Pitch docs tend not to tell them the end. Says Lisa: “I’ve never worked on a programme where the end didn’t change”. If you’re pitching a film, people need to know it rounds off quite well. Whereas, with a returning series, it’s best to leave it open. Americans are very good at making you wonder how they could do a second series of this.

THE STRUCTURE OF A PITCH (THE HOLDSWORTH WAY)

• A grabbing title. Heroes, Buffy, Demons (which was originally called The Last Van Helsing, until makers Shine realised that this title suggested a weight of history which wasn’t reflected by the execution). Firefly, reckons Lisa, was a great series with a terrible title.
• A logline to create intrigue. This is usually the last thing you put in.
• A summary paragraph that sells the central premise of the show. If your project is an adaptation then here’s the place to mention it, up front, noting that it’s about time this was brought to the screen.
• One-to-five pages of blistering prose that sets up the story, the main characters and the style/tone. Lisa usually writes three pages, then edits it down.
• A final paragraph that explains why this is the show your telly was made for. You’re basically saying, “If you buy this, you’re buying a fantastic piece of TV”. Take your self-deprecating hat off. Don’t be Simon Cowell, but say you believe in this.
• Write nothing about your credits or who you are – it detracts from the flow of the pitch. If you’re sending it ‘cold’, attach your CV as well.

CLOSING THOUGHTS FROM LISA:

• ”Remember – they’re always looking for a reason to say no. Don’t give them one. Don’t mention the scene in which a load of penguins get machine-gunned”.
• ”You won’t be held to the pitch doc, if you get to the next stage. People in the meeting will want to change aspects of it”.
• ”Once in meetings, pick your battles. Don’t argue over the colour of a secondary character’s socks. If someone’s suggestions piss you off, then go away, have a rant, have a cup of tea, then come back and think about it objectively”.
• ”Even if you end up writing seven drafts of a pilot script and it comes to nothing, your final draft will make a great calling card script”.

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Son Of The Pitch: The Knowledge

You'll no doubt have seen, on a couple of other blogs (such as Blogsville newcomer Jez Freedman - swing by his gaff, why don'tcha?), that the Screenwriters' Festival has already set about receiving submissions for its next pitch competiiton, Son Of The Pitch. For the uninitiated, this is one of the annual event's entertainment peaks - if not for the ten finalists who have to pitch to a panel of judges live onstage, then for the hundreds of screenwriters watching, who are so relieved to not have been chosen.


At the Screenwriters' Festival 2008, Martin John Gunn and David Shields (see above) won the Pitch In Time competition with their OAPower pitch, delivered extremely well onstage by Gunn alone - it's basically about old age pensioner superheroes. If I'm honest, it proved that a dodgy title is clearly no obstacle if you have a good, well-communicated idea, which is good to know. Here are the triumphant duo again below, receiving expertly post-pitch feedback from agent and TwelvePoint editor Julian Friedmann, after the event, along with Second Place winner Simon Sayce (Third Place went to Elena Fuller):


The event was a fun centrepiece of one evening's entertainment, although it was interesting to note how tiring it was to listen to pitches - possibly because you're straining to build a mental picture of someone else's idea, purely based on words which are coming out of their mouth. Obviously, the Festival itself is a gloriously draining ride, so that should be taken into account, but it's probably important to make the pitchee's job as easy as possible, so that their brain doesn't turn to mush.


With that in mind, I thought that prospective entrants to 2009's Son Of The Pitch might want to see a few of the questions and comments which the panel of judges, including Tony Jordan, uttered after each of the finalists' basic two-minute pitch. These are, of course, useful for screenwriters to consider, full-stop:

• Why does X happen?
  
• Why does X do that?
  
• What's the format - how long is it?
  
• Who'd be your ideal casting?
  
• What sort of genre is this?
  
• There seem to be two main characters - whose story is this?
  
• Who/what are we rooting for?
  
• You need to think about where he starts his journey, in order to set-up where it ends.
  
• Why is it specifically them that have to stop his dastardly plans?
  
• What kind of audience do you see it aimed at?
  
• What timeslot is this?
  
• What's at stake in the story?
  

Steven Moffat World Exclusive Imminent

My interviews with Steven Moffat for DWM (see last post) were somewhat epic, and inevitably there were wonderful quotes I couldn't squeeze into the articles, for reasons of space. Partly, these were things which were more specific to screenwriting and/or the business.

This weekend, I'll be running 1000 words of world exclusive Moffat on this very blog. Among other things, you'll find out whether he outlines scripts, whether he still pitches and his main advice for budding scribes. So keep checking back, y'hear?

How Not To Pitch

Hello you. Now, I never previously thought of this blog as the kind of place where you'll read screenwriting-centric advice. Journalistic advice I can give, after 19 years of doing it. Screenwriting? Relatively-speaking, it's a new world to me. Done it for over a decade, but only 100% seriously since January 2006.

Clearly, though, I was wrong about not giving screenwriterly advice. Because I can give it when I fuck up. And after last night's well-organised Stellar Network's Pitch Up event I have advice to give. Oh yes. Believe.

I ended up in a circle of 15 people, presided over by Wall To Wall's chief executive Alex Graham. There were more people than perhaps anticipated, so pitches were assigned a two-minute limit. Which threw me into mental tailspin, as my pitch was five minutes long. Far too long for this kind of event. Rather than describe the cold-sweat hell of my pitch in detail, I'll give you the general idea via a series of 'do not's...

DO NOT Bring a mood board to this kind of event. It's fine for professional pitches, but at a public pitch-fest it makes you look mad. I quickly realised I was the only person with a board in the entire room of 80-or-so attendees, and was put in mind of seeing a woman carrying a guitar at the Pitchfest event of LA's Screenwriting Expo last year. How I chuckled at her, knowing that I'd never do anything so eccentric. Ahem. It was a good board, but it didn't belong here.

DO NOT Have a five-minute pitch ready for this kind of event.

DO NOT Edit the wrong things out of your five-minute pitch, in order to cut it down to two minutes. I threw the baby out with the bathwater, losing much of The Big Proposition and ending up with bare bones plot. Which leads me on to...

DO NOT Fall into the classic "and then this happens, and then this happens..." trap. As Alex sagely noted during our session, "The trick of pitching is to get ME saying, 'So then what happens?'." What he ideally wants to hear in a pitch is The Big Idea, which he 'gets' and can see the big picture. Then, once he's hooked, he wants you ready to take him on the journey of the actual story.

DO NOT Forget to mention a key character in your pitch. Then realise, and slip them into the pitch, too late. The word "Argh!" springs nimbly to mind here. Jesus.

Despite the lousy nature of my pitch, I did earn a round of applause - partly, I suspect, because I was the first to pitch and partly through collective relief that it was over. Alex didn't seem to hate the idea at all, but the pitch wasn't clear enough for him and he obviously wasn't keen on its story-heavy content. He wasn't sure if my 30-minute TV drama was in fact a TV drama, as it seemed too "dark and edgy". He was positive, though, and gave me some good feedback, based on my two minutes of babble. And he later agreed to read the script. So that's good stuff, given that I'm far more confident about writing than talking.

It was a great session, with only one irritation. Three members of the group, who were pitching together, were clearly only interested in their own two minutes. During almost everybody else's pitches, they yapped, chuckled and whispered amongst themselves. Call me harsh, but their apparent belief that there was nothing to learn from either other people's pitches or even Alex's feedback to those pitches, possibly accounted for their own pitch being pretty much incomprehensible.

Anyway, pitch-bitching aside: Andy Pillock was in my group - and he won! Fantastic stuff. Mr Pillock flew the flag for the Scribosphere, and if he tries telling you at over his place that Alex chose him out of sympathy for being the 14th person to pitch and therefore having less time, dismiss him like the modest charlatan that he is.

It was a fine event for networking, too. There was a fair assembly of writers and film-makers in the bar afterwards, including Piers and Christine. I made a couple of good new writing pals (hello Adam, hello Kulvinder) and enjoyed debating Piers over whether the words 'actor' and 'actress' really should be regulated to 'actor'. When the bar shut, he and I hit another booze-house for some whisky action, talking about being a writer and the neverending process of self-improvement and learning. A great night.

Earlier that day, too, I was driven to Pinewood Studios to interview the Dragons of TV's popular Dragons' Den show. I interviewed them in the Den studio, where they sat in a row, just like they are on the programme, with large piles of cash on side tables. While I can now see how intimidating it must be for the show's entrepreneurs, I'm also pleased to report that the Dragons are both witty and amusing.

Good day to you.

PS Preparing a pitch can, by itself, help the development of your script (which, in this case, is the one I'll be delivering to the Red Planet Prize competition). While putting the pitch together, I realised there was one supposedly pivotal scene which just seemed wishy-washy and blah when you attempted to verbally describe it. So that scene has now become much stronger as a result. Good day to you again.

Destiny

Here's a funny thing. This morning, I decided to register for Stella Network's Pitching Workshop, in London tomorrow. Talking publicly and pitching don't rank among my favourite things (I'm a writer, not a talker, goddamit!), so it's important to face up to these vague dreads and brush up on them.

About half an hour later, while sitting in heat magazine where I'm currently temping, I was commissioned with the task of interviewing tycoon Peter Jones and his fellow Dragons from the popular BBC show Dragon's Den. And it's tomorrow afternoon. So I'll be able to quiz these titans of business for pitching tips, mere hours before heading over to the Stellar Network event. Mad, yes? Yes.

Anyone else going? You still heading up here for it, Mr Pillock? And Christ Almighty, would someone gather some handy links on pitching? I actually managed to enjoy the pitch-thang at LA's Screenwriting Expo last October, but that was a while ago and I'm all rusty...

Tomato Catch-Up

As Lucy kindly pointed out, I haven't posted here for a week. It's been a combination of working like a madman and real-life type stuff, but here I am, back again. Typing and everything. So let's see: what's gone on?

Didn't make the Fever Pitch Top 10 shortlist. This is simultaneously a shame and a relief. Now, at least, I'll be able to enjoy the Cheltenham Screenwriters' Festival without worrying about preparing a live pitch. And I can still pitch the film idea to various folk over the course of the four days. By the way, the ever-unstoppable Lucy's running her own Fever Pitch comp, by way of consolation to those who didn't make it.

I've had a basic idea for the BBC's Royal Tapes radio play competition (despite knowing or caring little about the Royals) so might well write it up in time for the Friday midday deadline. It's only three minutes long max: how hard can it be? Hmmmmm.

Also this Friday, I'm hitting the BECTU Freelances' Fair, which should be an interesting affair. Few seminars, bit of mingling: where's the harm? There is no harm to be seen...

I've got a feature in tomorrow's new Doctor Who Magazine, so will blog about that tomorrow. Oh, and my interview with Any Dream Will Do winner Lee Mead is in this week's issue of Heat.

Are any other non-smokers feeling the urge to light up in pubs, just for the sheer fuck of it? I've done it twice in the last week. A pointless exercise, I'll grant you, but I like the idea of smoking in pubs - just not the reality, in terms of health or getting engulfed in other people's brown mist. Ugh. That didn't sound good. Still, as I've been saying to people since cities started falling around the world, I can't see why some pubs can't be smoking and others non-smoking...

Wondering where the 'Tomato' came from in 'Tomato Catch-Up'? I had one in a salad for lunch. There. It's a seamless play on words, and no mistake.

Temping at heat... Mixmag feature... pitch book

This week, I shall mostly be temping on heat magazine's TV desk. I've done this before, and greatly enjoyed it. I'm generally allergic to office work - being chained to a desk when it's not in my house tends to induce cold sweat. But I'll happily make an exception for heat - it's an office with great people and a great atmosphere. Very laidback, for one thing - it never fails to impress me how people are remarkably unstressed, considering that they're creating a magazine stuffed full of celebrity gossip each week. Nice.

I have a feature in the current issue of Mixmag, on the popular beat combo Klaxons. Went to Cardiff a while back, to do a l'il on-the-road piece with them. Lovely fellows and very entertaining.

Good heavens. I'm very positive today. Must be Adrian Mead's influence.

Also wanted to recommend a really good book about pitching: Selling Your Story In 60 Seconds by Michael Hauge. I attended a pitchfest affair at the LA Screenwriting Expo in October, and this handy read really helped me prepare. It was a sell-your-screenplay-in-five-minutes-to-an-exec type deal, and by the end I was pretty addicted to the rush of it. Among Hauge's recommendations are convincing the pitchee that you have a personal connection to your script - even if you don't strictly have one. Interestingly, I found that doing it this way helped me realise one of the things the script was about, which I hadn't considered. I also practiced by videoing myself saying the pitch in my hotel room, using a digital camera. Didn't feel stupid at all, no sirree. Ahem.

In this particular case, the script's protagonist is a teenager who ends up fighting to save the world. So I started my pitch by saying that I was seeing someone with teenage kids, and it fascinated me how every little problem seemed like the end of the world to them. Everything's magnified. But what if it really WAS the end of the world, and they had to step up to the plate? This seemed to grab most execs' interest, so I'd say it's a fairly valid way of couching a pitch. I also found that if you departed before your allotted time slot was up, leaving them with a single-sheet synopsis or the actual screenplay if they'd requested it, the look of gratitude on their face was very obvious. They were being given a 60-second breather before the next pitcher lumbered along.

One of the pitchers at that event, was a woman with a guitar. I never got to hear her musical pitch, but I'll wager it was a doozy...