by James Huntrods
Last year was my first LSF, and the main selling point for me was Pitchfest. All the emails in the world cannot make up for sitting down face-to-face with somebody and talking to them.
I’m more of a TV writer, and the majority of pitch tables were set up for film pitches. So I decided that I’d devote my Pitchfest slot to talking to as many agents as possible. Never did I think I’d sign with one of them six months later, but Ellen Gallagher was sitting in that hall and that five minutes with her led to submissions, show invitations, meetings and – eventually – representation.
Some of this will be obvious, and I don’t feel like I’m an expert in any sense. Far from it. This is simply what I did last year, and I hope there’s something you take from it that helps you along the long road to finding representation.
- Prepare
I promise they won’t all be this obvious. But you need to prepare for every single agent. Learn who their client list is and watch some of the shows they’ve been involved in. It’s a great ice-breaker to say “Oh, I love this person you represent and this thing they wrote”.
But also, you should mean it! If you watch all their client’s work and don’t like it, maybe they’re not the right agent for you. It’s easy to place representation on a pedestal and be ready to say yes to anybody, but remember that this is somebody who is going to be with you for years. If you don’t think their judgement is up to it, look elsewhere.
And even if that particular agent doesn’t feel right, it might still be worth the five minutes at LSF. Look up others at the agency. Meeting one agent can give you a reason to email somebody else. For example: “I met your colleague at LSF, and found your profile on the company website. I love the work of your clients, and wondered if I can send you a sample of my work.”
- It’s as much about you as it is about your ideas
You’re not pitching a script, or even a series of scripts. You’re pitching yourself. Signing with an agent is signing with a business partner. They’re going to want a portfolio presented to them.
Come with a year plan, and a five-year plan. Be ambitious, but realistic. What do you plan to write, where do you plan to send it, and is there anything you want to make. What have you done so far that proves you are going somewhere? Agents want to find someone who is on the rise. How can you make it sound like your success is inevitable; that if they don’t snap you up somebody else will?
There’s no point coming with one good script, or one good idea. Agents aren’t interested in that. They want a client with a stack of projects and ideas. They want somebody who wants a career. Come with that vision. In those five minutes you need to get across that you have things up your sleeve you haven’t had time to talk about. Make them ask for that follow-up email. Make them decry this constricted format that has cut your meeting short. Then they’ll ask for more.
Then, to finish, pick the script that is the best example of your work and pitch it. You’ll have to do it in a minute, unlike the producer pitches. Edit your pitch to do this. You should tailor your pitch to who you’re talking to. If all goes well, they’ll ask for this spec.
- Why should they represent you?
In some ways, you’re an investment. When do you expect to offer a return on their work for you? Will it be a year of them organising meetings, sending your specs out and pushing you to producers before you start pulling them the money in? If so, why should they invest that time? There’s a lot of unrepresented writers who may have more foots in doors than you, more specs in more piles and generally a shorter path to getting some work. They may even be behind you in the queue.
It’s a bit like a job interview. Why are you the best candidate?
Track record is the best thing to go through here. You need a list of your past achievements ready to rocket through, a synopsis of all your current projects and a plan of future work you want to make. Sell hard. Convince them you’d be active from day one, and that you’d be the protagonist in this relationship.
I think it’s fair to say all agents want writers who are able to independently generate work. An agent is like a microphone. It won’t make any noise without sound being put into it, but what sound is put in will be amplified. Forgive the pretentious analogy, but it’s true: don’t expect an agent to make something out of nothing. You need to go in there with plenty of material they can use as they start to sell your wares across town.
- Although also, why should you let them represent you?
It’s perfectly OK to ask agents what they would do for you. This may be something to save for a follow-up meeting if you have one, but generally an agent should have a process they plan to put a writer through. How would they get your scripts out? Who do they know? How have they done it successfully before with previous clients?
See if you can find a younger, fresher client in their list and ask how their first year was. Some agents sign up writers and then leave them to crack on with exactly what they were doing before. Some push from the start. Find out what kind of agent you’re talking to. Be ready to ask them what they would do with your work, and what their strategy to build a career would be.
I’ve already said it’s like a job interview. But that goes both ways. You’re interviewing them too. Test them out. Ask them questions. Don’t be petulant, but do give them the chance to sell themselves to you too. They’ll respect you more for it.
And remember to ask them if they’re building their list right now. At LSF it is likely they are. But agents go through phases of recruiting and then phases of consolidation with an ear to the ground for rising stars. Find out where the person across the table from you is at.
- Follow up
This is by far the most important part. It was six months between LSF and signing with Ellen. What did I do in that time?
Ellen gave me her card at the end of the interview. Not all agents do this. One took my card and said he’d contact me. But most will ask you to follow up.
After our five minutes Ellen asked for an email with a recap of what I had told her, and my current spec script. I warned her that would be a long email, but she said send it anyway. The day after the festival finished I sent this email – always strike whilst the iron is hot. It was about a page and a half long, but summarised everything I’d said.
Ellen replied having received my script, and then the true follow-up begins. Because agents are (rightly) dealing with their own clients most of the time, they often take a long time to read a script. Sometimes they’re not even looking to build their lists at that time, and just like to have writers on their radar.
So for six months I invited Ellen to every single thing I had on. This included a short play at Theatre503, a short play at the Southwark, a reading of my full length play at Arcola, a quick note to say that I was shortlisted and interviewed for the Channel 4 Screenwriting course but ultimately not selected, and finally a recording of a podcast sitcom I’d co-written at the Old Red Lion.
This final event was one she was able to make, and it was February this year. Before the show we had a longer meeting where I was finally able to go through everything I’ve put above. We also found we liked the same shows, and generally we got on as people. There was also a surprise – Dan Nixon at the agency was looking for a theatre writer, and so Ellen proposed a share of me between them, with her handling TV and Dan handling theatre. This clinched it for me, and when the two of them saw the show and we had a beer afterwards I knew I’d found the people I wanted to represent me. Luckily they felt the same!
I should mention I simultaneously did this with three other agents, two of whom I met as well. But ultimately I knew pretty early on I wanted to work with Ellen, and after I met him, Dan. All the boxes were ticked.
- Are you ready for an agent?
I’m sorry to put this last. But a few years ago I went on a big agent hunting drive. I was a finalist in the PAGE screenwriting contest and used this springboard (excuse) to email everybody I could find. “Surely they’re going to be interested -look, I’m a finalist in a contest”.
They were. Mildly. Most read my script and some said nice things, some said it wasn’t for them, some said it was rubbish (one even said, “Did you intend to write a British New Girl? Come back to me when you have something original”. Sadly that’s not the worse criticism I’ve ever received. A literary manager once claimed I was a “typical, lazy white male writer”. Ouch).
After this barrage of cold emails to agents I sat back and… nothing happened. No meetings. No requests for further scripts. No replies to invitations to shows. I was downhearted, but it was because I had no body of work. I had no plan for the future. I was simply thrusting forward the first script that got any traction in my years of writing specs.
I was on their radars. But there was nothing exciting. So they bided their time. Then one day I sat down at LSF with one of them at a table and reminded him we’d emailed before. Ultimately, he didn’t like my new spec, but I at least had a prior relationship. With getting representation it’s about playing long game.
Perhaps this LSF isn’t the one where you’ll sign, but getting on someone’s radar is a good use of your time. Down the line when you have a reading, or a contest placement, or a short play on – then you have a pre-existing relationship to draw on.
The key thing is: get some cards, send some specs and wait. Invite them to shows. Chase them. And wait. Be prepared to wait a long time, and in that time generate opportunities yourself. Enter every contest. Flatter producers. Collect accolades to send in your monthly newsletter out to the agents you’re courting. Because what you want them to think is: “if that’s what they can achieve without representation, what could they do with me on their side?”
James Huntrods is a writer on The Amazing World of Gumball for Cartoon Network. He is also a finalist for The Sitcom Mission 2015. @jameshuntrods
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Posted by a member of the London Screenwriters’ Festival team.
