Unlucky Number 7 … or … so very close, but no cigar?

                Seven is considered a lucky number, but not for me, not this week anyway.  The list of the six winners from the WeScreenplay contest in Los Angeles was published very late Friday night and, as expected, my name was not present.  The reason I was not expecting to win was very simple.  I received the judge’s report a few days ago and it was not very good.  On a rating scale of “Recommend, Consider, or Pass,” he had rated “Ash Wednesday” a “Pass” (I had to explain to a very discombobulated Val, who initially thought it meant I had won the contest, that this was not a Pass as in Pass/Fail, but rather as in “taking a pass” or “you’re out!” ) which meant there was virtually no chance of winning a spot in the top six.

                 I was so terribly amused by her getting so terribly upset.  She reminded me of Marie on Everybody Loves Raymond.  “What’s their phone number?  Give me the name of the judge.  I’m going to call them and give them a piece of my mind!”  I had to tell her that the judge’s identity was confidential so there was no way to reach them.  And I had to tell her that it was a contest after all, so the decisions are final and there is no appeal.  It was flattering that she got so upset, much more than was I.

                When I learned last month that I had had the good fortune of being ranked as the lucky 13^th best screenplay out of a thousand (and of 26 finalists), I did some simple math to determine what it would take to win.  If the top six were going to win, then this last judge would have to rank me in the top 23 percent.  When the report ranked me in the top 24 percent, I had to wonder how I got a “Pass,” as being just one percent off which would have placed mine as the seventh best script, should have at least merited a “Consider.”  I reread the website to discover the judge did not necessarily have final say.  According to their rules, the selected titles would then be referred to a committee of three other judges who would review them again to ascertain their final worthiness and then collectively rank them to select the six winners.  So I hung on to this shred of hope, even though the “Pass” was a pretty strong indicator that I was done.  I doubted anything dubbed a “Pass” would have been sent on to the final committee. 

                There was another great puzzle.  As usual, I got very high grades for originality, dialogue, plot and character, all of which most of the judges so far have agreed are my strong points.  But even though he gave me a glowing 93% for originality, I earned only a middling 82% for concept?  Aren’t originality and concept basically the same thing?  Generally when something is called original, the meaning is that it’s an original concept.  So I’m puzzled.  Another mystery is that their rules stated that minor variations from industry format would be acceptable and would not affect the score.  It was a shock to see that not only was I graded on these minor variations (like whether to use scene transitions or not, something that is widely considered entirely acceptable if done sparingly, especially if done for dramatic effect) but I was rated as only a 5 out of 10, which dragged my score way the hell down. 

                But the greatest astonishment was the score I received for “Overall Impression,” a measly 68 percent.  I believe the scientific law states that the whole shall always be greater than the sum of its parts.  So how is it that on the eight areas on which I was graded from character and dialogue to originality and style I averaged an 84 percent and yet the judge’s overall impression was only a 68?  If not for that, and the other low grade for format, the script as a whole would certainly have ranked considerably higher than the top 24 percentile among the 26 finalists. 

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                Thus, I am more than a little confused by this judge.  There were also major confusions raised in the “Weaknesses” section of the report that betrayed that he had not read the script very carefully.  That’s been my main complaint about some of these judges.  Their comments clearly reflect that they did not read carefully.  I noted from the semi-finals judge’s report that in the “Positives” section he effusively praised the clever plot, the engaging dialogue, the affecting characters while in the “Negatives” section, he bashed the hackneyed plot, the stale dialogue and the flat characters, thus making the report completely useless to me as I had no idea what he was trying to say, all because they are obviously rushing the read.  Is it really too much to ask from industry professionals that they at least read carefully if they are the ones rendering judgment?  I will say that each judge who has so far loved this script reflected very much in their comments that they had read the script quite carefully and had caught some intentionally subtle things the other judges missed. 

                This judge complained that he did not even get the whole Ash Wednesday thing.  He openly questioned why that was the character’s name.  He missed the whole Ash Wednesday theme and did not understand why the whole story was framed around Wednesday’s birthday.  And like some of the other judges, some of his negatives completely contradicted his positives as, once again, there was effusive praise of the dialogue in the “Strengths” section and criticisms of the dialogue in the “Weaknesses” section. 

                If the percentile ranking is indeed an accurate metric of where I placed, then “Ash Wednesday” was the 7^th best screenplay in the contest.  In this case, it was an unlucky 7, close but no cigar, though I was still hoping for that cigar until the last.  I’m not really that disappointed since I thought it was an extreme long shot from the beginning and just feel so terribly accomplished that I made it as far as I did, and I think that losing by what appears to be just a nose is making it pretty darned far.  I have learned that judges’ opinions can be and often are all over the board.  I find this reassuring since it means that there’s a good chance that the next judge just might love it.  This also means that you just keep on plugging because the next door that you pound on just might open.  And I can still boast that I made the finals in a field of a thousand screenplays and, as a finalist, I still win nearly $400 dollars in script services, including free entry and reports for next year’s WeScreenplay.  And next time, I get to choose the judges I want.  Naturally they’ll be the two judges who ranked me respectively in the top 6 percent and 1 percent. 

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                On rereading the “Prize” section of the web site, I’m actually glad now that I did not make the winners list.  Of course, I would still like to have been among the top three that get distributed to agents and producers (though no guarantee that they will sign.)  But I now see that the grand prize was a trip to L.A. for two hours of mentoring with an industry professional.  (Air fare and hotel of course still the responsibility of the winner.)  In this case, the mentor is the guy who made “Teenage Mutant Turtles 2.”   Wow, glad to lose.  I really don’t think my style of storytelling has anything at all in common with Teenage Mutant Turtles 2.  Besides, this film was made in 1991.  If this guy’s greatest claim to fame is that 26 years ago he made the one-star sequel to a kiddie movie where even the original was not exactly inspired filmmaking to begin with, I have my doubts that this mentorship would have been at all productive.  Who knows, but my gut says I’m better off. 

                In just about four more weeks, I’ll be getting the results of the highly reputable Nashville Screenplay competition.  I’m also entered in the Austin Film Festival and the Page International script competitions, both of which will be much more challenging given that the playing field will consist of 10,000 other scripts each.  This past week, I’ve also been notified of another L.A. based contest, the Blue Cat.  This one requires a maximum length of 125 pages so I have until March 20^th to cut another two pages from my script, something I’m sure I can do.  Blue Cat is run by a professor who teaches screenwriting at both the University of Southern California and UCLA, two of the best film schools in the world.  Though he will likely only be personally reading the top scripts, he is personally selecting each judge from his extensive list of star alum from his classes at these two outstanding institutions.  I plan to enter because the fee is low, the report is included in the fee, and I will have assurances that the judges will be individuals with stellar qualifications and who have actually written some terrific screenplays themselves. 

                I’m hoping for some positive news this time next month.  Meanwhile, I’m hard at work on my next screenplay.  Stay tuned.