Someone really annoyed me a while back by making what they thought was an idle observation but for some reason I took personally. The accusation: that I have a price.
... No, it's not a Redford in Indecent Proposal type of price. Because if that were involved in any way, I'd be sitting on some beach somewhere counting my money right now. I never said I'd be proud of myself.
In this particular case, the question was whether or not I'd be willing to sell out the intellectual rights on a story or characters that I had if the price was right. For some reason, the notion that I might be attached to the characters personally and emotionally was insane. There had to be some number, the guy surmised, at which my principle on the matter would simply fade away. I think I ended up settling at somewhere around half a million based mostly around A) my inability to believe that any idea I had would be valued at that high a price to anyone and B) the fact that I could always pull an end around, doctor some names and details, and reinvent the main focus of the concept later. Heck, I'd have a half a million to pull it off with.
But the more I've thought about it, the more I realize it just wouldn't work. Something about the whole thing would just bother me. Now don't get me wrong. I have a ton of ideas (sane and otherwise) bouncing around in my head, and I'd wager that maybe 5-10 percent of my concepts are things that I have anything emotionally invested in. But in that group... there's some beautiful stuff. Life's dream "this is what I'd want to be remembered for when I die at the ripe age of 247 ("Take that, science!")" type of stuff. And for that, I just couldn't compromise.
It's one of the reasons that I figure that I'll never be a big Hollywood writer. I'm sure they have to bite the bullet on a regular basis. I've heard the stories where a TV series or a film ended up gnawed and prodded by its producers to the point where it was barely a shell of the show that it started out as and it makes me shudder. I wouldn't... couldn't do that to something I cared about.
So at best, I'd have to go the long route. I'd have to either establish myself with some unattached works or be financially stable enough that I can produce my own items. That way, no one can tell me what to do with my pure, precious concepts. Granted, I could probably use a little feedback here and there, but the do or die stuff stays in. That's how I feel about it.
Unless you have a half mil or so laying around. Then I just might be your word-whore. Just for one night.
...
I never said I was proud of myself.
2 comments:
Hmmm... only a half-mil? Does Monopoly money count? Didn't think so!
Speaking of folks having Hollywood do a number on their concept: I was at the Gnats' game last night and we started talking about favorite baseball movies. I mentioned "Fever Pitch", about a rabid Red Sox fan, and was told the BOOK was about a rabid SOCCER fan. Soccer. I have to wonder what Nick Hornby thought about his book being so used, but then again, maybe he's on a beach somewhere, without a care, counting his money.
Soccer to baseball, huh? Well, I suppose they could have... some... things in common? Eh...
Half-mil was really more just the point where I broke up the conversation because I was tired of it. I was feeling a bit nagged, and it was just easier to make a partial concession than to go the, "Shut up, you!" route.
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