The question I am most often asked by aspiring
screenwriters is: How can I get an agent? My answer is always the same: Write
something an agent can sell. Agents are hard-working people who must pay all
the usual expenses of living, and so they are not inclined to take a chance on
unknown writers and unlikely projects. But if you present an agent with a
script that she thinks she can sell, she may very well represent you. Finding
an agent, and keeping an agent, are among the greatest challenges for a
screenwriter, since, without proper representation, you cannot earn a living.
Likewise, unless you are a member of the Writers
Guild, you cannot earn a living. And that is why, on Easter Sunday, I fired my
agent of many years, under protest. I did so because the Guild ordered me to with
the threat of retribution, including even the possibility of expulsion. So, you
see the impossible position this puts me, and other writers, in: If I did not
fire my agent I couldn’t work; and since I now have no representation, I
probably cannot work. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. An ironic position
to be put in by the union that claims to protect my interests, to say the
least.
I won’t go into the details of why the Guild has required
all of its members to fire our agents (it’s tedious, and I’m not entirely sure
I understand the details myself); however, the action is directed at the four
major talent agencies, and the issue seems to be twofold. First, the Guild
objects to the big agencies’ practice of “packaging,” that is, putting together
the various elements of a production, including script, director and stars, and
extracting fees for doing so. This, the Guild claims, has caused the earnings
of its members to decline in recent years. Second, the Guild likewise objects
to the practice of “affiliation,” which, as I understand it, means the big
agencies’ growing partnership with studios and other production entities to participate
in and benefit from all aspects of production. In effect, the agents who
represent us thereby become our employers as well. This the Guild sees as a
conflict of interest. But, since such a conflict of interest violates state or federal
work rules, it ought to be resolved in the courts, not in collective action.
Now, it must be understood that packaging and affiliation
are two important sources of revenue for the agencies, and the Guild is attempting
to force them to divest themselves of this income for the sake of writers. This
represents a second irony, in the sense that writers have traditionally been
treated by the entertainment industry with disdain bordering on contempt. To
say that the integrity of our work is not respected is a colossal
understatement. We are routinely rewritten, forced to work for free, and
summarily fired and replaced by others over whose work we have no control, even
on projects which we ourselves have created. And yet for the sake of this maligned
creative underclass, the WGA actually thinks the big agencies will forego hundreds
of millions of dollars in income. To my mind, this is nothing short of comical.
In my view, the Guild has made at least two very
serious miscalculations in this latest work action. First, it has taken on a
fight it cannot win. The agencies are not going to restructure their business
model for the sake of writers; it is not in their interest to do so, and
writers do not have the clout to compel them to. To put it in a word: The Guild
has chosen the wrong hill to die on. Second, in order to prosecute this
unwinnable war, the Guild has compelled its members to sever professional
relationships which, in many cases, have existed for years, and upon which
writers depend for their livelihood. The onus, meanwhile, does not fall on either
the Guild’s leadership and the top one percent of its members, or on the
agencies, which are owned by multinational conglomerates; it falls on the
working writers. And it hits hardest at young writers who have just gotten started
in the industry and have either recently found or hope soon to find
representation. I feel sorry for such young talent; they have been shanghaied
into a war which was not of their choosing and from which they stand to gain
less than they are being forced to sacrifice.
But my essential problem with what the Guild is doing
is that it should not have the authority to force me to fire my agent and
thereby cripple my ability to earn a living. That, to me, is simply wrong. To
strike for cause, yes. But no one should be able to compel me to end a
longstanding professional relationship upon which I depend for my livelihood.
Given this precedent, the Guild could, theoretically, force me to terminate any form of professional
relationship or collaboration if it deems it necessary. To my mind, this precedent
is a very dangerous one.
There is another aspect to this work action that I
also resent: It is an action being taken, almost exclusively, for the benefit
of television writers. I have never worked in television, and so, as with the
last strike, I stand to gain nothing. The world of television writing, with its
writers’ rooms and showrunners and sponsors’ interference in the creative
process, is alien to me. And so, it is difficult for me now, as it was during
the strike, to see why I should be penalized for the sake of writers with whom
I have very little in common, and whose potential gains will not accrue to me.
With each contract negotiation it becomes clearer to
me that the interests of feature writers and television writers are not
coextensive. For example, in the current work action, the Guild has created a Staffing
Submission System whereby writers can submit ideas directly to television
producers. Nothing has been said about feature film writers; there is no
mechanism for us to find work. This is yet more evidence that the Guild exists primarily
to protect television writers, while feature writers are relegated to a second-level
status.
Since the Guild ordered the mass firing of agents,
there have been no negotiations. Instead, the Guild has filed a lawsuit against
the big four agencies, which promises to drag on, as such things do, for months
or even years. Meanwhile, thousands of writers find themselves without
representation, which is to say, the ability to find work and make deals. In
forcing writers into this position, it seems to me that the Guild has shot
itself in the foot. From what I understand, dissent within the Guild is rising,
which may serve to weaken it at a time when it is demanding solidarity. But the
truth remains that even those who voted for the Guild’s stand against the
agencies did not ask for a lawsuit on their behalf and did not expect to be
forced to fire their agents. The unintended consequence of all this may be that
the Guild will emerge from its current action a weaker and
not a stronger organization.
Under normal circumstances, we fire people for cause.
My agent has given me no cause to fire her; on the contrary, I depend on her
for my living. She has ever been gracious, conscientious, caring and honest in
her dealings with me over more than a decade. I am not represented by one of
the big four agencies, my agency rarely packages, and it does not affiliate. I had
no reason to fire my agent, and that I should be forced to do so under threat of
reprisal by the union that claims to represent my interests is wrong, and in my
view, ought to be illegal. Yet both my lawyer and, to her credit, my agent, advised
to me do so on the grounds that I would be punished and my career damaged if I
did not. This is not collective action; it is coercion.
