I feel like I'll take a lot of crap in the next couple days for starting a post by quoting Eminem, but the line is relevant. I had a shot to do what I really wanted to do. And I blew it.
One of many great lessons I've learned from my mother though is that "no" doesn't always mean "no" when it comes to achieving your goals. By using that lesson, I can proudly present my number 17 college memory: my second chance to get into the screenwriting sub-concentration.
One little-known fact about UM is that it boasts one of the country's top undergraduate screenwriting programs. It's one of the only programs in the country (if not the only) where in the intro class you write not an act, but an entire feature script. The head of the program, Jim Burnstein, is a UM grad whose credits include D3: The Mighty Ducks, Renaissance Man, and the recently-released Love and Honor.
Getting into the program is not easy. You have to take the intro screenwriting class, write a great script, and get accepted based on that script into the second class in the sequence. I wrote my first script, didn't get in, and thought at first that my hopes would be crushed. The sub-con would be great for my resume, would show up on my transcript, and would allow me the extra education to further honing my skills. And I was sure I wanted to write movies, because the joy of giving life to new characters and creating new worlds is one of the most exhilarating experiences there is, in my opinion.
So, I started emailing various people within the department about my options. I suggested I re-take the first class not-for-credit, as an auditor, just to have another chance to write a good script. I was told that wasn't an option. But I kept sending emails, making my case and trying to find any loophole that would work in my favor. I was told I could re-submit a new draft to my first teacher, but I wasn't particularly fond of that idea. I kept trying, but with no luck. Until someone put me in touch with Jim Burnstein himself, who offered me the opportunity to write a new screenplay over the summer, submit it to him by August 1st, and let him decide if i get into the second class (and therefore, the sub-con). He later sent me this message:
"I have done this a few times before. Sometimes a student writes a new screenplay that earns its place in 410. Other times, the screenplays have fallen far short. I want to be clear. I am giving you a fair shot, not a guarantee, okay? The ball is in your court."
I decided that, with the ball in my court as he said, I needed to put my best foot forward. I needed to write the script I promised myself I would not attempt until the time was right. Pushed by my mother - again - I decided to attempt to write a screenplay based on my grandfather's death.
I knew going into this project that it would require me to tap into emotions I had long tried to suppress. I knew there would be some bad days ahead of me. When I write, I totally immerse myself in the world of the characters, and I was afraid of that. Mostly, though, I was afraid I didn't have the chops to do the story any justice.
I began working off an outline I had started my freshman year, as well as a treatment and a description of the main characters. The basis for the story was an essay I wrote in my freshman writing class about living with my grandfather in the year before he died.
I wrote most of the screenplay over a 3-week period in July, right before Professor Burnstein's deadline. As my family will tell you, it was a very bad three weeks for me. I was in a bad mood every single day, and was basically impossible to be around. The stress was too much, not to handle the content of the story. In addition, I had some personal issues I was dealing with, and the new Batman had just come out and basically crushed my screenwriting enthusiasm (how could I ever do that?). But I finished, revised, and submitted a draft to Burnstein. I waited nearly two weeks before he emailed me to tell me he wanted to call me the next day to talk.
Immediately, I flipped out. I couldn't possibly bear being rejected over the phone. Why would he do that to me? Why not just let me know right away? What was there to talk about?
I was working on another screenplay for a side project at the time, and had returned to the Barnes and Noble where I wrote all summer. Around 2 pm I think, I got the call. He wanted to know when I was graduating, to make sure I had time to take the class in the second semester with him. Here's what I remember of the rest of the conversation:
"Zach, your script has a lot of heart. It needs a lot of work and it's by no means a great script as-is, but it's got a lot of heart and potential. I have some specific ways I think it can be improved and I want to personally teach them to you in the winter semester."
I probably thanked him 10 times before hanging up. The next thing I remember quite vividly. I tweeted about it, closed my computer, went into the Barnes and Noble bathroom, and cried in a stall for over 30 minutes. It was the most unreal emotion ever. Months of bottled up emotion, stress, and uncertainty literally pouring out me.
Ultimately, I ended up being moved into the fall class with another professor, V. Prasad (who I had before and loved) and re-wrote the script. The new draft, "The Love You Take" was a great improvement on the first. Still not a great script, but definitely something to keep working on moving forward. I will graduate with the screenwriting sub-concentration in May, a great achievement and fulfillment of a personal goal. And, perhaps most importantly, I was able to form a new, tangible bond with my grandfather in a way few people get to experience.
I also must thank - in addition to Mr. Burnstein, Prasad, and my parents - my friends Bethany and Jennifer, who both gave me some great feedback on the first draft that helped me out big time.
And, here's a picture I posted on Facebook upon completing the second draft at 4 a.m. in the library:
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