Thread by @hughhowey

The #1 question I get from readers is: "When is your book getting turned into a movie or TV show?"

The #1 question I get from fellow writers is: "How do I get Hollywood interested in my story?"

A THREAD on adapting novels to the big & small screen...

Over the years, I've had at least a hundred authors reach out to me asking for advice about a pending movie or TV deal. Is the money they're being offered enough? Should they be involved in the creative process? How long will it take to get the show/film on the air?

My advice is simply my own personal approach, but it has worked wonders for me: I assume that nothing will ever get made. I really believe this, deep down in the marrow of my soul. Nothing will ever get made. I repeat that to myself until I know it to be true.

This is more than a defense mechanism against disappointment, it is the foundation for making the best decisions as I think about where to place my work and how to approach the various stages of production.

Keep in mind that this is my personal approach and yours may vary.

This attitude was already in place even before my first film deals started to come in. When WOOL took off, I stayed very grounded, pessimistic even. I assumed sales would tank tomorrow. I took nothing for granted.

We had a flurry of film offers for WOOL as soon as it hit the bestseller charts. The rights were going to go to auction, which would pit several producers and studios against one another. And then Ridley Scott and Steve Zaillian made an offer.

Several of the producers had a much better chance of actually turning WOOL into a film, as this would have been their top priority. But the chances were slim no matter which way I went. So I chose Ridley and Steve knowing I only had a 1% chance. It didn't matter. Why?

Because having household names attached to the book meant I sold more books. It also meant higher offers from foreign publishers. This was 100% guaranteed. I approach film and TV deals as marketing tools as much as actual pathways to adaptation. It's what I can control.

It's also about the option money, when money is still an issue. Every film and TV deal I do, I assume the option check is the last penny I'll ever see from that deal. Remember: nothing will ever get made. So do the deal that pays well and helps market your work.

One of the first offers I had for WOOL came from BBC America. I probably would have gotten $5,000 or so for the option if I'd done it on my own (this was before I had an agent). These are the types of deals authors reach out to me about all the time.

A name like BBC is good to have attached to your work. You might parlay that into some BBC affiliate radio interviews. You can drop that in query letters, offers to appear at book conferences, blurbs on book product pages, your blog, etc. Name recognition is invaluable.

The other kind of common deal comes from a producer you've never heard of, who you immediately search on imdb. These are generally folks who try to develop IP to then take out to sell to studios and other producers higher up the chain.

These kinds of deals can be a lot of fun, because you partner with someone who likes your story and helps you learn how to see it in a different medium. This will almost never actually get made (see above), but you can pocket some change and learn a little about tinseltown.

The key to all of these deals and every step of the process is to celebrate every victory, however small, as if it'll be your last. That option check is your ultimate victory. Until development starts, and then you celebrate any little thing that occurs. An example:

WOOL has been in development heaven for a decade. What is development heaven? It's when a project gets noodled on by Hollywood execs, writers, directors, etc. for years and years, never actually getting made. Some folks call this development hell. They are insane.

Development heaven started with getting flown first class out to LA, put up in a fancy hotel, and going onto the Fox lot for the first time. I bumped into Jim Gianopulos in the hallway (CEO at the time), and he said, "Oh you're the WOOL guy."

Meeting with Steve Asbell that day was an apex moment in my development heaven journey. We talked story, some of our favorite films (many of which he helped make), and projects that never quite got off the ground. A brief aside:

In Steve's waiting room, there was a small library of scripts on a bookshelf. I saw one called ENDER'S GAME. The movie wasn't out at the time; this was a failed draft from years before, but it was another apex moment to leaf through that draft, my favorite novel as a kid.

At no point in these meetings did I think a WOOL film would get made. Instead, I approached this as a tourist, as a dumb lucky kid who loves TV and film and was just excited to be on the lot meeting some of my creative heroes. I couldn't lose. I'd already won.

Development heaven for WOOL would continue. I met with Zaillian's team and geeked out over the film props all over their offices. I got to know J Blakeson, the first writer and director attached to the project, a friendship that continues to this day. More apex moments.

J and I spent days going over the book and how to turn it into a film. In our down time we toured a Stanley Kubrick exhibit (J is a massive fan), and I learned shit-tons just by listening to J wax philosophically about Stan's approach to filmmaking.

Again, I never thought anything would get made. I was just lucky to be talking shop with people smarter and more creative than me. This can happen in so many ways for so many writers, but you have to be willing to accept each little victory as a true apex moment.

Even when I read the first scripts based on my novels, I never cared about going the next step. And yes, I really believe this lack of caring not only heightened my appreciation of every milestone, but actually made the progress more likely.

For one thing, I rarely get in the way of development by pestering agents, studios, producers about progress. I don't waste my time or their time. The strongest drug in Hollywood is indifference, and I have it in spades. I exude it. Because I'm already fully satisfied.

Another aside: I went into a meeting about a book once after a small studio optioned it for TV. At the very first meeting, the heads of the studio said, "We are making this show."

I said, "That's awesome."

I was being supportive of the idea, but they could tell I didn't believe them. Because I was as cool as a cucumber who knows no salad is ever going to get made.

"No, we are really going to make this," they said.

"Great," I replied.

I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that this went back and forth at least six times. To the point that one of the studio heads turned to another and said, "Tell him we are going to make this."

My indifference, which was not feigned, was getting to them.

Being satisfied with where you are in the creative process is as addictive as it is healthy. You wrote a chapter today? Be grateful. You got an email from a fan? Be grateful. Whatever step you are taking, soak it up. Live in that moment. Others will want to join you there.

I could go on for ages about all the little milestones and how meaningful all of them have been, but the important thing to remember is that none of them were necessary. I was perfectly satisfied when my cousin Lisa told me my first novel didn't suck. I could have died happy.

Everything that has followed has been one apex moment after the other. Each one appreciated, none of them expected, and none of them needed.

This attitude is the antidote for Hollywood delusions and disappointments.

This is why when readers ask me about adaptations, I only tell them that "we're working on it." I share their hope as fans that something will get made. I do not share their optimism that it'll actually happen. It'd be fun, but it's not necessary.

I currently have five works in various stages of adaptation. Various phases of development heaven. None of them will get made. Two of them are currently in the casting phase. I've read excellent scripts for three of them. These are apex moments. Nothing comes after.

For the writers out there: if you get an offer and the money will help, sell that option. Just get a lawyer or an agent involved. By the time you have an offer, you should be able to get the latter; you can always hire the former.

Make sure the terms of the contract mean that you'll get the rights back after a period of time (it's usually 18 months, with the ability to extend another 18. So assume you'll lose the rights for 3 years). Make sure the price to KEEP the rights is in your fuck-off range.

That means even if you never get the rights back and nothing will ever get made, you are happy with the funds in the bank. This might be $10,000 if you're able to churn out books. It could be seven figures. Only you can decide what a project is worth.

This has been my advice and guidance to myself over the years, and it's all I can share with readers and writers. Assume that nothing will get made, but enjoy every step of the way. Make decisions that help you financially and with marketing, because that's all you can control.

A final note about how my defense mechanism has saved me from severe disappointment. I've been told five different times that a project was definitely getting made. I've been given green lights three different times. This is usually when corks are popped.

One of those times, the studio decided after getting into production that they couldn't afford to shoot the script profitably. This was likely due to watching another very popular show of theirs succeed in the ratings but fail on the ledgers. The bean-counters intervened.

Another time, a director and script were in place, and the studio scheduled a window for shooting. Then an actor broke an arm, which delayed another film's shooting, which pushed back the director, and things unraveled. Gravity got in the way.

Did these near-misses crush my spirit? Absolutely not. I'm still the kid who can't believe he gets to talk about film and TV with people who actually make these things for a living. I'm the guy who is in awe of the fact that anything ever gets made.

I've been thinking about writing a blog post about this mindset for years, and turned it into a Twitter thread instead. Because in the last few months, two of my projects have inched as close as I've ever been to seeing something actually get made.

Will they? Of course not. Nothing ever gets made.

But right now, I'm at the apex, looking back at a ridge-line of summits behind me, with fond memories of standing on each, assuming they'd be the last. It's been a wild ride. It's been absolute heaven.

If you're a reader, be happy for the book. That's all there will ever be.

If you're a writer, cash that option check and enjoy the process. Write that next work. And always listen to your lawyers.

/END