Chapter 1: The Journey of a Novella

Some time ago, I independently published a novella titled The Summit on Amazon Kindle. The narrative revolves around an alien invasion in Las Vegas during 1962. In this tale, the Rat Pack—Sinatra, Martin, and Davis Jr.—rises to the occasion to save the day, aided by a certain Catholic president. However, I soon realized I made significant mistakes when adapting this novella into a screenplay. It wasn't so much about the adaptation itself, but rather the challenges that followed.

Let’s explore how I, as test pilots would say, really messed things up.

The novella received immediate attention. Although it hasn’t sold particularly well (I’m still trying to crack the Kindle marketing code), it did catch the eye of some noteworthy individuals. After posting a link to The Summit on my Facebook profile, a few friends shared it with their networks. One of those friends—let’s call him “Ernie”—happened to know a professional screenwriter in his circle. You know how fleeting Facebook posts can be; they often disappear quickly, seen by only a handful. It was purely by chance that Ernie shared my post and that this screenwriter (let's refer to him as “Dave”) came across it during his morning coffee.

Dave read the novella and reached out to Ernie for my email address. Ernie kindly passed it along, and soon I was in touch with Dave, who expressed interest in adapting my story for film.

I want to emphasize that my experience with Dave was fantastic. He encouraged me to write the screenplay myself, stating that the narrative voice in the novella was uniquely mine. I agreed, and with his generous guidance, I produced a screenplay that we both felt proud of.

It’s worth noting that The Summit underwent considerable changes in its failed journey to the silver screen, most of which I suggested myself, as prose and film are inherently different mediums.

Using his extensive network, Dave submitted the screenplay to key industry contacts. However, it's essential to understand that a professional screenwriter doesn't have the same reach as a seasoned agent. Not an issue, though; Dave managed to get the script to an agent who agreed to represent me. This was every writer's fantasy, and I stumbled into it quite serendipitously (let’s be honest, it was about 10% talent and 90% luck).

The agent—let’s call him “Roger”—took over from Dave and propelled the script to even more prominent industry figures. People whose names I recognized from the credits were reading my work and enjoying it.

But they didn't enjoy it enough.

Eventually, a consensus emerged: “This is a fun script, but there’s no way a studio will finance it.” Why the skepticism? Well, for valid reasons. The protagonists were in their forties, the film included some extravagant effects sequences (which costs a lot), and marketing it would have been a nightmare. Essentially, it was a recipe for box office disaster.

You might think that it was still a step in the right direction, paving the way for future opportunities. However, what followed wasn’t all bright skies and rainbows—and I have to take the blame.

I froze. Not immediately, but eventually, I did.

Before I entered what I’ll call the Great Self-Doubt phase, I was writing like a maniac. I completed three feature films and several television pilots. Only two of those scripts reached Roger, and I often judged most of my work as mediocre or too unconventional for Hollywood. In many cases, my instincts were correct. Yet, as I spiraled downward, I found it increasingly difficult to assess my own writing. Ultimately, deep in the grip of a slow-motion panic, I stopped writing altogether.

When opportunity knocked, I acted as if I were not home.

Recently, while reviewing some of my past work, one nearly finished script caught my attention. It wasn’t bad at all. I polished it up and completed it, which was a positive outcome, but I still feel haunted by my Lost Weekend. What is it about us humans that we allow our inner critics to dictate our actions? Why do we sabotage our own potential so readily?

I genuinely don’t know.

So, what can we glean from my screenwriting misadventure? Perhaps it’s to “avoid becoming a self-defeating quitter”? That seems a bit simplistic. As I mentioned, I’m at a loss.

I wish I had a clearer understanding in case this happens again.

This narrative has a sort of sequel: Learn from My Other Screenwriting Fail.

Chapter 2: Insights from Failure

In this video, Why Most People Fail At Screenwriting, we explore common pitfalls that aspiring screenwriters face and how to overcome them.

The second video, Why 99% Of Screenwriters Fail - Corey Mandell, delves into specific reasons behind the struggles in the screenwriting industry and offers practical advice.