patricia burroughs
screenwriter | award winner | crazed dallas cowboys fan
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PATRICIA BURROUGHS, A DREAMER REDEEMED, WINS NICHOLL FELLOWSHIP, by Didi S. DubelyeW
*originally published
on moviebytes.com
Patricia Burroughs, widely known in Internet writing circles as Pooks, has recently won one of the five open spots in the annual Nicholl Fellowship (administered by the same Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences which awards the revered Oscar statuettes). In other words, as a pre-professional screenwriter (she has not been paid $5,000 US or more in her writing for the screen), Burroughs has landed a top berth (in a field of 5,489 entries) in the most prestigious competition of 2001 with her script, "Redemption."
This screenwriting story is more dramatic since, one year earlier, Burroughs had just missed winning this same competition. She'd reached Finalist distinction, among 4,250 total entries, with "Dreamers," a completely different script than the one with which she eventually won the Nicholl Fellowship.
From "Dreamers" to "Redemption" - that's a wildly appropriate arc (rife with literary symbolism) for a screenwriter's journey, 'breaking into Hollywood.'
Q: Okay, I have to start off with this question: what's the historical significance, dictionary definition and/or biographical inference we can glean from your nickname, Pooks?
A: My grandmother called me Pookie when I was little, and well, it didn't seem like that big a deal when I first showed up on a writers' bulletin board and said, "Call me Pookie."
I didn't dream it would stick, much less take on a life of its own. Pookie eventually evolved into Pooks. And the first time I went to the Austin Film Festival, I discovered that my cyber-friends all knew Pooks but not Patricia. I was being called Pooks, being introduced as Pooks and (significant detail) REMEMBERED as Pooks. (People don't usually forget that name.)
So, Pooks I am and Pooks I'll stay.
Q: How many screenplays and novels have you written?
A: I wrote eight novels (published five) and have written five screenplays.
Q: You've earned a fair share of writing awards and honors, how do you believe these placements have assisted you in achieving your personal goals?
A: Each placement has served one vital purpose in moving me closer to my writing goals, and that is simply, they whispered in my ear, "Okay, maybe you're not deluding yourself, maybe you should turn on the computer and write another day."
Q: What have been the most important incentives when you've chosen those contests in which to submit your work: prizes/cash, feedback, industry access and/or acknowledgement, or another deciding factor altogether?
A: Prestige. I wouldn't waste my money entering a competition nobody heard of and one agents and producers don't respect.
Beyond that, if it's a competition held as part of a conference, and you're going to attend the conference anyway, you may as well enter. If the prize is something you want, enter. But prestige is the most important reason to enter any competition.
Q: Were there competitions in which your screenplays did not garner any attention, but slipped through the cracks?
A: Four of my five scripts have been (at least) semifinalists in the Nicholl Competition. Every script that advanced in the Nicholl also bombed out of the Nicholl at one time or another.
Same scripts, same drafts. That first cut is a killer. When thousands of scripts are getting eliminated, good scripts don't make it.
As far as other competitions, I entered Breckenridge one year and won it. Otherwise, I have only entered the Nicholl and Austin. I've only advanced once at Austin, even though I entered the same scripts that did great in the Nicholl.
Q: What are your feelings regarding the subjectivity of judging screenplays in script contests?
A: First of all, everything is subjective. The editor who approves your idea for an article is making a subjective judgment on what he/she thinks the readers want to read. The person who clicks on this interview to read it, and the person who didn't get this far, and already skipped to another web page. Movie reviews are subjective. Awards are subjective. (Do you agree with every Oscar given?)
We are all going to bring our own prejudices and preferences to any reading/viewing experience, and that's something you'd better learn to deal with. Not everybody is going to love your script, but then, everybody doesn't have to.
When (as in the Nicholl) there are dozens of paid professionals reading the first round, you never know whether the two who read your script will 'get it' or not. That's where luck has to play a part. That's why a script that does well one year can crash and burn the next, or vice versa.
Q: What role do you think competitions should play in newer screenwriters' plans for breaking into the film industry?
A: Competitions are just one avenue. Many writers are successful without them. Some of us have benefited from them. Of course, if you reach the right person, they may help you get an agent, help you get read, give you notes, etc.
Competitions are a great way of breaking in, but they can't be the only way. You can't let your success or lack of success in competitions have an impact on your ego. If you do well, use it to get read. If you don't, give yourself one day to pout, cuss and eat chocolate, then get back to work writing.
Q: How has winning the Nicholl changed your day to day life?
A: I actually get approached by journalists, who want to interview me, which is kind of a nice change. I've got producers calling, wanting to work with me, which is a really nice change. I'm planning my next trip to LA, which will be coming up shortly, and lining up a lot of meetings.
Other than that, my days are the same as before. I'm writing. I'm rewriting. I'm cursing and stomping and fuming because the writing isn't going well, or I'm chirping and floating and gloating because the writing is going great, or I'm staring out the window because it's not going at all – you know, writing.
Q: Would you comment on the wear and tear on your psyche during the arduous process of coming so close in the Nicholl Screenwriting Fellowship in numerous years?
A: The year 2000 was a strange, strained year to be a Nicholl Finalist. Yes, I got lots of calls requesting "Dreamers," but there were two major events that impacted everybody that year. First, the anticipated WGA and SAG strikes. Agencies were scrambling to find work for their current client list, and most weren't really looking for new clients. I had one assistant tell me, off the record, that many agencies were wondering if they'd even be in business if the strikes hit. When the writers went on strike in the late 80s, several agencies did bite the dust.
While I know some of the Fellows and Finalists in the year 2000 did get representation, most didn't. Add to that the election mess, and it was an 'interesting' November. People were edgy, because we didn't have a president, and things were getting nasty on the political front. It was a tough time for everybody.
Q: After the year 2000 events (and the Nicholl final outcome), why did you decide to (A) submit again, and (B) attempt to go further in 2001 (since, obviously only winning the elusive fellowship would be an acceptable result), yet this time, with a different screenplay?
A: You nailed it. How could I ever expect to match the outcome of 2000, which felt like a 'win' even though it wasn't? As a Finalist, you get the same calls, the same requests for scripts. The Academy flies you out to LA for the week, puts you up at the Beverly Hilton, hosts you at all the same functions as the Fellows. Any way you look at it, you won something big, even if you didn't get the cash. So after experiencing all that once, wouldn't I be setting myself up for disappointment? As you stated, "only winning the elusive fellowship would be an acceptable result."
I thought about it. I thought about it long and hard. And I realized, though it wasn't logical or realistic to try again, quitting just wasn't in my blood. I wouldn't quit until I'd won or was ineligible.
So, I decided to throw four scripts at the competition and see what would happen. With only a few weeks left before the deadline, I decided to rewrite an earlier script that had done well (top 30) but hadn't won.
Three friends (one a novelist, the other two screenwriters) read it and gave me notes. I dove back into it and remembered again how much I loved this story, these characters. I believed it was worth the effort no matter what happened with it, and that's the script that won. And in case you're wondering, yes, I entered "Dreamers," the finalist script from last year.
It didn't even make the Quarterfinals. I think it garnered a "next 10%" note on the bottom of the letter, and the other two didn't even do that. They're all damn fine scripts. That's just the nature of competition. Plus, there were over 1200 more scripts entered in the Nicholl in 2001 than in 2000. Talk about incredible odds.
Finally, there was one other motivating factor in entering again. When I was in LA as a Finalist in 2000 I met the most amazing person, Annmarie Morais. Annmarie and I clicked immediately, and sat alone at Farmer's Market for an hour and a half talking, long after all the other people in our group had left.
She was a Finalist in 1998, and reentered the same script, without changing a word, to win a Fellowship on that second try in 1999. Even though I knew the odds were incredibly against it happening to me, especially when I realized how many more entries there were in 2001, I knew in the back of my mind, "Annmarie did it."
And I did it, too – with a twist. There were two people in the history of the Nicholl prior to me who had been Finalists twice with the same script. One person didn't win either time. Annmarie won the second time. I was the third person to be a Finalist twice, but the first person to do it with two different scripts.
Q: Surely you're pleased with the way things turned out, but what were your genuine expectations as you awaited the verdict?
A: As I awaited the verdict, my expectations ran the gamut. There were times when I was so desolate, I knew I simply couldn't win, and I wondered if I'd ever be able to work myself up to hold my head up in LA in November. To go out there twice, without winning. To have that wonderful, wise committee of professionals read my two best scripts and both times say, "Well, sorry, but not good enough."
That potential outcome was a bit bleak to anticipate. However, let me emphasize this; I am absolutely positive that IF that had happened, I would have shaken it off and gone to LA and had a wonderful time. I'd already begun contingency planning for that situation, because after all, that was what I actually expected to happen, and I was ready to capitalize, either way it went. But waiting for that phone call was excruciating.
On the other hand, there was a night earlier in the competition when I was having a bit of trouble getting to sleep, and I projected ahead to the Academy dinner at the Beverly Wilshire, and pictured myself winning and giving the acceptance speech. Instead of drifting off to sleep with sweet dreams, as I'd intended, I was suddenly hyper-energized, it felt so REAL. After a half-hour of mind-racing speechwriting, I finally got up and wrote the speech down.
The very next day I got that call when Greg Beal told me I was a Finalist again. I had trouble assimilating it. He laughed and said, "You sound more emotional about it this time than last year." Well, I was! As unbelievable as it was the first time it happened, it was more so the second. (And no, I didn't use that acceptance speech. I didn't write the one I used until a half-hour before the dinner!)
The unexpected but lovely aspect of being a both a Finalist and a Fellow is, I feel like I'm a member of two groups, the 'Class of 2000' and the 'Class of 2001.' The Nicholl Fellows' dinner (the night before the official Awards dinner) was quite a reunion. Not only did I get to hug all my buddies from the past year, but I was warmly welcomed by Fellows from previous years who remembered me and were glad to see me back again, this time a winner. It was an amazing night. They say, "Once a Fellow, always a Fellow," and you really feel that at the Fellows' dinner.
Q: Born and bred a 'Dallas girl,' you still live there; has Texas life made an impact on your writing?
A: I've got a strong dose of Texas independence and arrogance, but I'm actually an urban city girl (never wear cowboy boots, never listen to C&W music, never go to the rodeo).
How does this influence my writing? The women I write about are tremendously strong, and the men are very male. Bottom line, I like to write about men and women who are strong enough to handle each other and to deserve each other. I happen to see these as Texas traits, though I'm sure people from Iowa and Nova Scotia and '(insert your hometown here,' she said in an effort to cover her posterior) can make the same claims.
Q: Yeah, but how about those Dallas Cowboys?
A: Only team to ever win three Super Bowls in four years. Five total Super Bowl Championships. More Super Bowl appearances than any other team. Even when they lose, they're fun to watch. Love those Cowboys!
Q: I assume you plan to 'stay put' in your beloved state of Texas, instead of moving permanently to the LA vicinity. Has living in Texas been a boon or hindrance to launching your screenwriting career?
A: I am sure that staying in Texas has hurt my career for all the obvious reasons that anybody can name. But it has helped me, even more.
If you spend much time in LA you know that most people you meet are sharing your angst, suffering your frustration, your (sometimes) bitterness. At home, I have the ability to get away from it. Most people around me in Dallas are sane and live normal lives and don't carry that kind of burden around with them. (Okay, they also don't carry that kind of dream around with them, but still.)
I think by living where I do, I'm not confronted daily with what an impossible, ridiculous thing I'm doing, writing movies, and instead can just DO it.
Q: Would you address the 'faulty thinking' which you believe is inherent in the suggestion that "a good way to sell a screenplay is by turning it into a novel first (or vice versa!)"?
A: It's insulting to novelists to imply that it's easy to switch from one form to the other. To assume that writing a novel is something a screenwriter can just toss off easily with no earlier efforts at it. To assume that it's easy to sell that novel once you get it written, and to assume it will be the kind of best seller that will make Hollywood sit up and take notice.
I also think it's insulting to screenwriters when novelists make the reverse assumption. My advice is, if you want to write a novel, be ready to spend the years it takes to learn your craft and write the damned novel. If you want to write a screenplay, do the same. But don't think it's that easy to switch from one to the other, because for the vast majority of people it won't be.
My belief is, "A good way to sell a screenplay is to write a GREAT screenplay, and there are no shortcuts."
As I've said before, it's easy to point to somebody who sold their own story as a novel first and think it means something. But you can point to far more people who simply worked their asses off writing screenplays and finally wrote one that sold.
So it's your choice.
Take the 'easy' way of "turning your screenplay into a novel first," which is so damned 'easy' that if someone actually manages to do it, it gets written up in the trades as news. (Which is why people think, "Oh wow, that's the easy way to do it.") Or take the more direct way, which is simply, "write your damned script." And write the next one. And the next one, and keep writing until that combination of talent, luck and hard work lands you a sale.
Q: Has writing award-winning romance novels given you a foot up in knowing how to write quality stories which both men and women would like to see in a movie theater?
A: Well, they were award-nominated novels; they didn't actually win. But how did they help me? I began learning how to craft a story by writing novels. Those novels happened to be romance novels, which means they played off my strengths – character and emotion, and I always loved dialogue, especially the big 'showdowns' when emotions raged.
When I started studying screenwriting the finer points of story structure really 'clicked' for me. I picked up Syd Field's SCREENPLAY, and Linda Seger's MAKING A GOOD SCRIPT GREAT, and experienced total relief and frustration, all at once. "You mean, I've been blindly crashing through the forest, bouncing off of trees, fighting my way through stories looking for a plot that flowed and had a decent pace, and all this time there was a MAP???"
I've grown to love analyzing, plotting and structuring as much as writing characters and dialogue. One of my great moments in LA this year was when Gale Anne Hurd (producer, "Aliens") and Mia Goldman (editor, "Dick"), two of the Nicholl committee members, told me that they could feel how much fun I was having as I twisted the plot around on itself. (Almost as much fun as when I kill somebody off and know the audience is going to cry, so I guess I'm evil, huh?)
As to the second part of your question – how did writing romance novels help me learn to write screenplays that please both men and women? Well, I don't know how one actually leads to the other. But I do seem to have accomplished that, by writing about characters who feel real to people.
In fact, one man I talked to in LA this year told me I wrote "testosterone," meaning my men felt real to him. That surprised him because I'm a woman. Well, yes, I'm a woman but I happen to like guys. I married one, after all, and when I write about guys, I like to write about 'real' guys. I think men who read my scripts respond to that, and that this will ultimately transfer to the screen.
Q: How do you decide if an idea or concept you're itching to write is a novel or a screenplay? And along those same lines, when and why do you decide to adapt a completed piece (of specific material) from one of those creative mediums to the other?
A: For me, a novel involves wonderfully intense inner conflict that can only be explored successfully in a novel, where you can actually dip into the character's mind and soul. A movie can only be told visually and verbally. You don't know what people are thinking, and much of what they are feeling is implied rather than stated.
Totally different. You have to figure out how this story can best be told.
You have to figure out what part of you wants to write that story. The part that wants to make a whiz-bang movie, and show the story visually and dynamically? Or the part that needs to dig deep into the heart of the character, explore the soul of the character, mine the emotions of the character, and take the reader into another dimension?
When I've adapted my own work, it has been a challenge because I had to make sure my story was visual and plot-driven enough to be a movie, and where it wasn't, I had to find ways to strengthen it. I had to find ways to convey emotion, motivation and inner conflict without the luxury of going into a character's head to see what they're thinking and feeling. I like those challenges. They're exhilarating.
I'd like to do more adaptations, preferably of somebody else's work.
Q: Did/do you have a mentor?
A: Two mentors stand out because they have been so generous with their support and advice; Max Adams (writer, "Excess Baggage" and Nicholl Fellow, 1994) and Terri Miller Marlowe (Nicholl Fellow, 1992). Sometimes I feel like a high maintenance friend (okay, drama queen) but Max and Terri have always been there anyway. They are saints, saints I tell you. Terri is generous and tough, always willing to lend an ear and advice, which has been a godsend at times.
The terrific thing about Max is, she took her experience, opinions and uncanny ability to cut to the chase of any issue and put it all in her book, THE SCREENWRITER'S SURVIVAL GUIDE. I can't recommend it highly enough, which may seem problematical since she's my friend, so of course I'd recommend her book. But I mean it -- if you want your own personal mentor on your bookshelf, buy that book.
She'll advise you on everything from how to understand 'Mogul Speak' to what to wear to meetings, to who pays for lunch. This is true mentorship, the stuff you don't get from 'how to write a screenplay' gurus. (Sometimes when I ask her for help, when I'm in drama queen mode, all in a panic, yes, sometimes she has been known to say, "Are you sure you read my book?" because it's all there.)
Q: Would you share some additional background on your writing education?
A: I was in a meeting during Nicholl week, and the guy I was talking to had been praising my writing and pointing out page for page, things he loved about it. Suddenly, he began putting a few things together, he stopped and frowned and said, "Wait. Let me get this straight, you've had absolutely no formal writing training?" I'd never looked at it that way before. I haven't taken classes in creative writing, (other than a basic screenwriting class when I first switched to scripts). I haven't been to film school.
I teach creative writing myself (go figure), but my own education has come from reading novels and watching movies, from reading books about writing, from attending conferences, and from being part of a community of writers who help each other with critiques and feedback and support.
I had such a community when I first started writing novels, and I found such a community when I decided to write screenplays. Maybe it wasn't 'formal training,' but boy, my friends are tough critics and they don't let me get away with anything.
Q: Any others in the film/screenwriting industry who have offered you advice you've found abundantly true and helpful?
A: Being a Nicholl Fellow opens up more doors than you can imagine. Greg Beal advises all Quarterfinalists, Semifinalists and Finalists to list their own contact number, not that of their representative, because this is a time when you can make connections that are yours, and you should take advantage of that and not have it all filtered through a third party. Through those contacts, I've made some valuable connections over the years, even prior to winning the fellowship.
Beyond that, just being in LA during the awards week is amazing. Having the opportunity to have committee members discuss your script with you, tell you what they responded to, is an honor and a learning experience. Gale Anne Hurd is being especially helpful to me. She is someone I simply would never have met at this point in my career without the Nicholl win.
The biggest advocate any of us who have ever entered, much less won the Nicholl competition have, is Mrs. Gee Nicholl herself. What an amazing woman to recognize not only the importance of writers, but also the need to nurture new writers. Because she endowed these fellowships and continues to support them, anyone who enters the competition benefits. Because of her gift, we all have a reason to write, a reason to dream.
Shane Black (writer, "Lethal Weapon") said something in Austin one year that was amazingly profound. He said, "Look around you now. Look at your friends. Don't lose them." He went onto say that we have a tendency to look up the ladder at people who are successful, trying to find ways to get to them, thinking that's the way to succeed. But in reality, most people succeed by helping each other up, rung by rung, as they share the journey.
When you realize that your friends are smart and have scruples and talent and are willing to work like hell to succeed, then you know you're in a good place, and that you will have opportunities to help them and they to help you. It all evens out. And as you climb that ladder, you'll know whom you can trust, because you climbed it together.
That was the first screenwriting conference I attended, and I've never forgotten what he said. Those people who were around me that day are still around me, plus a few more. I've been very fortunate in my friends. And here's the odd thing: all of these friends are people I first met online.
People who were part of our group that day have sold features (Ron Peer, writer, "Goodbye Lover"), won Disney Fellowships (Mary Elder and Mike Canales), and so on. I'm going to forget to name other people, but the fact is, we are all climbing that ladder, and still are in contact to advise and support one another.
Since then, my circle has expanded to include others who are actively involved in the film community. Friends, like Toni McGee Causey who, along with Amanda Nugent, has formed Mandoni Films to produce Toni's script, "The Raffle Guy," which has already generated financial interest and an offer from a US distributor. This opens a new realm of experiences for me to learn from, vicariously.
But that day in Austin, listening to Shane, we were all together at the bottom, looking up. Amazing.
# # #
Didi S. DubelyeW writes screenplays for feature films with her Australian collaborator, Phillip Gilson. She has also written two short film scripts which are currently in post-production in the US. Didi directed BODIES' LANGUAGE in Florida and worked with director Nick Gartner and Culatazo Productions of St. Louis, Missouri on JELLY-SIDE DOWN. Both projects are slated for 2002 release. Didi regularly conducts interviews, and occasionally writes special reports for Moviebytes, Script Mag, and the Writers Guild of America, West. She can be reached at gaterooze_ink@filmindustry.com
This interview was originally published by MovieBytes. For more interviews and screenplay marketing information, subscribe online at: http://www.moviebytes.com/wbw/subscribe.cfm
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