Last night the University of Westminster hosted an awesome event with screenwriters Robert Wade and Neal Purvis. This dynamic duo have been responsible for the scripts for the last FIVE bond movies and much more besides. It was a really interesting chat, and although I tweeted my little heart out from the event, I thought I’d note down some of the main take outs.

What struck me was how honest and frank the two men were and also how many of the points they made – including those below – have been echoed many times before by successful screenwriters. Ignore them at your peril!

1.       You’ll need to write about ten scripts to get one made – The first agent Wade and Purvis had said to them that they likely have to write ten scripts before one got made. Being young writers, they immediately thought “Well that doesn’t apply to us” but she was on reflection right. Writers are not born, they are self taught for years before they get to the point of writing scripts worth producing.

2.       Even when you’ve “made it” and are earning money from screenwriting it doesn’t mean the films you write will be made – After the success of “Let him have it” in the early 1990s, Wade and Purvis wrote about five scripts – all paid assignments – including the adaptation of the Iain Banks novel The Wasp Factory but none of them got made. Again, it shows what a miracle the making of feature film actually is. All the stars have to align, if they don’t even successful writers find their scripts unproduced.

3.       Just write your script – Both writers agreed that the best thing to do, once you have spent the time on the structure and scene breakdown is just to get on and write the damn script. But with caveats…

4.       Accept that your first draft is your first draft won't be right, that allows you to get on with the business of rewriting – which is where the real work and the real slog is.

5.       Sometimes the producers are going to need to bring in another writer to finish the script – No matter how big you are, you just get too close to the material. As such, you need to deal with the fact that other writers are brought in to tidy up dialogue, description and plot. This is a collaborative industry and you are a small cog in a big wheel. If you want to keep working be professional about the fact you will be fired.

So there you have it. Even the writers for the biggest franchise in movie history have to keep writing, and rewriting, and rewriting. 

I have noticed there are two questions that screenwriters ask each other as soon as they meet. It’s half ice breaker and half nosiness! They are necessary evils but ones which I have to admit, having cackhandedly answered them for years, I now hate and have to stifle a wince when they are asked. The first is “What kind of things do you write?” The second is “What have you had produced?”

I have always found the first question the writers equivalent of the dinner party favourite “So, what do you do?” It’s a way to size you up, put you in a box of one kind or another. And you know what? I am absolutely flummoxed about how to answer it.

A look at my current spec script portfolio shows features, TV and short scripts of all different shapes, sizes and genres. I don’t just write comedy. I don’t just write horror. I don’t just write children’s. But I realise when I say something along the lines of “I write whatever excites me” that I come across as fairly naive or unfocused. But its true. I start with an idea, and if I like it, I write it.

The second question, “What have you had produced?”,  I must admit have always found vaguely unsettling. Although it has to be asked, again as a measuring tool, I do almost equate it to “What do you earn?” or “How successful are you?”

Until recently I had to say “I have had nothing produced”, but my line now – which is true – is “I have a number of short films in various stages of pre-production” seems to do the job.

But, and here’s the kicker to this question, and why I hate it…the response to your answer is just as telling, but this time telling about the questioner rather than the responder.

So, you answer in the affirmative and the questioner either a) feels somehow slighted that you have managed to get something produced when they are so OBVIOUSLY more intelligent/witty/brilliant (delete as appropriate) b) thrusts a dog eared script in your hand and begs you to give “honest” feedback when they actually want you to confirm their undiscovered genius or c) – the rarest of the all – is genuinely interested in how it happened and what the process was for you.

And if you answer negatively, “No Sir, I have not had anything produced”,  the questioner either a) looks at you like you are something scrapped off their shoe and wonders why you are at the event or even in the building b) smiles politely and moves on to the next person having deemed you a waste of networking time or c) sympathises with you and blames “the system” for stifling talent and tries to lick their own ears.

You can’t win with these bastard questions – and yet, I find they are the first two out my lips when I meet someone. Perhaps I need better patter, or at least a better way to answer them!

Any ideas?