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I had entered more screenplay competitions seeking out that elusive first win. I had started to buy tickets for film festivals so that I could start networking — once the writer’s strike ended. I was planning on drafting a query letter for agents, so that once the strike was over, and they were in need of scripts to promote, I’d be prepared with an offer of a screenplay that had already been vetted by several competitions.

While I felt pretty good about where I stood, there was still something nagging me about the latest draft of my script for Dig Down.

The judge for the Page Turner competition had been very supportive of my work, and had offered much more than just surface level advice of ways to improve my script. We had been getting into the deeper levels, of working to develop the characters on an inner and even philosophical level. It had been such a productive meeting, extremely beneficial, and the judge had given me every indication that this was going to place well.

Which it did. As a finalist. But it left me to wonder…

Why didn’t it win?

I didn’t turn in the script at the absolute deadline, there were still a few days left before it passed, but it ultimately didn’t leave enough time for the judge – and not that this was being offered – to give feedback on the revisions that I had made to the screenplay. I had taken the advice I’d been given and implemented it throughout the script, but aside from how I placed, I had no idea how effective I’d been with the changes. For all I knew, I had already been inline to place as a finalist, and the changes I’d made just hadn’t derailed it.

With everything in a holding period – the results from the contests I’d entered wouldn’t be posted for awhile, the calendar hadn’t reached the dates the film festivals were scheduled, and with the strike going on, I couldn’t do anything about them anyway – I wanted to feel like I was still moving forward in some way. I wanted to keep my momentum going.

Although the strike prevented screenwriters from making any deals, I could still enter competitions. And one was coming up, or rather, one I had already entered was offering their summer competition – the Santa Barbara Screenplay Competition. They offered the same options for entering the contest as they had previously – a standard entry, one with notes from the judge, and an option to have a Zoom call with the head of the competition to go over the script.

I chose to enter the same way that I had previously, with notes from the judge. I was essentially getting notes on the notes that I’d implemented, but at least now I would have a sense of how well I’d actually incorporated them.

Happy New Year everyone!

Wishing you all the best in achieving your writing goals in the coming year.

May you all find happiness in 2025.

As my main character from Dig Down Rob Moore would say, “Typical. F###ing Typical.”

I’d started to get success in my screenwriting career, which I hoped to carry the momentum from into achieving more success in my overall writing career. I had gotten some good advice from the people running the Santa Barbara Screenplay Competition, as they would often hold free webinars on Zoom providing solid advice to aspiring screenwriters in the form of recommending going to film festivals to network.

Only now, with the Writers Guild of America, the WGA, going on strike, networking was off the table. If I went against the union while they were looking to negotiate better conditions for current and future screenwriters, and they found out, I would be blacklisted, with no one in the industry willing to work with me ever again.

I didn’t want to lost the momentum I’d attained, but I didn’t know what else to do.

Luckily for me, the Santa Barbara team managing the competition held another free webinar – this time focused on offering advice to screenwriters on what to do during and how to handle the writer’s strike. This was a very welcome and much needed webinar, and I’m sure most, if not all, of the other attendees felt the same way.

This felt like one of the most beneficial webinars they ever held. They provided context to the writer’s strike, both in terms of the issues being negotiated for in this latest strike, but also in a historical context, as they had been through several of these strikes in the past.

They also gave an example of acceptable networking that could be done during this time, namely joining other screenwriters who were protesting. Even if you didn’t have your own signs, you could still find locations where writers would be picketing and join them, to show support, and to get to know other writers.

They also gave some of the best advice, which was simply to keep writing.

While the above was the best advice, the most applicable advice they gave for my purposes was to still attend film festivals. There were warnings that they issued. Under no circumstances could I network, bring up that I was a writer looking to make a deal, or negotiate one in any way. But I could still attend them, just as an attendee.

This was small, but it felt big at the time. Like most of their advice, I think it put all of us aspiring screenwriters at ease, getting a better understanding of what we could and could not do while the strike was ongoing. It allowed me to focus on developing a game plan for this next phase in my screenwriting career.

I had already bought tickets for my first film festival, and now felt confident in going without any issues. Tribeca was going to be the following weekend. There weren’t many tickets left, but I did buy one package to go for the last day of the festival. The hope was that this strike could be resolved quickly, allowing me to then network in one of the biggest film festivals in the world.

There weren’t many film festivals local to me, or without a reasonable driving distance after that. I also didn’t want to commit to going to film festivals every weekend, especially if this strike dragged on. But…there was the Toronto International Film Festival three months later. Another of the big film festivals in the world, and one that was relatively reasonable to get to, especially with three months to plan for. Just like with Tribeca, although the strike was going on now, it could be resolved by then, with three months to reach an agreement.

After an unfortunate setback, I now had a plan in place to carry out for the rest of the year.

In my previous post, I mentioned that in addition to entering screenplay competitions, I was going to start attending film festivals, with the goal to start networking. I felt it was a sound plan. I was starting to get results, having both screenplays I had written and entered into contests having placed as a finalist. Now it was about getting the word out about this success.

Unfortunately, there was one problem. And it was kind of a big one.

For the first time in fifteen years, the Writer’s Guild of America had just gone on strike.

While this didn’t bar me from attending the film festivals, it would be career suicide to attempt to network at them. If I did, and it was discovered that I had been working behind the scenes, while writers were holding the line to negotiate better opportunities for everyone, I would be blacklisted by every studio who knew that a deal with me would mean that no other writer in the WGA would work with them.

And this happened right after I bought tickets to attend my first film festival. And with the second I had planned to attend, Tribeca, happening the following weekend.

My plans were coming off the rails before they even began.

I had now entered my script for Dig Down in another round of screenwriting contests, bringing my total entries to six. I felt like I was following the advice and gameplan of many writers before me, to just continually pitch, query and submit their work to as many people and organizations as possible, never being dismayed by any disappointing results, always maintaining the mindset that each submission would get me one step closer toward reaching my goal.

I also felt that just submitting my script into screenplay contests wasn’t enough.

When I was entering screenwriting contests, I had to fill out personal information as part of my submissions, which landed me on several mailing lists. These e-mails focused on providing services for screenwriters, mostly in the form of paid courses. While I wasn’t particularly interested in these paid courses, I was interested in the free seminars they usually held to try and hook potential customers.

One of these free seminars focused on what screenwriters should do to get their work noticed. During the seminar, they mentioned that entering screenplay competitions was a good method, as the writer could use the accolades they received from any contests they had success in.

They also said that film festivals were a great place to network.

This felt like an excellent next step to take in my screenwriting journey. I could continue entering Dig Down into competitions for the rest of the year. But my name would just be text on the cover page of the script. No one would still know who I was.

I changed my focus immediately – from looking for screenplay competitions to enter, to film festivals to attend.

As I was finding more screenplay competitions to enter in search of my first win, I did make one decision that I regret. While I definitely feel I made a mistake with the way I entered into the Scriptapalooza Contest, that was more so in the gaffe I made with my submission, but I did ultimately submit for the services that I wanted to.

The regret I had was with my submission to the Chicago Script Awards.

This is not to say that there was anything wrong with the contest itself. It, like the earlier contests I had entered, offered multiple options for submissions, and while there was nothing inherently wrong with any of them, I do feel what I submitted for wasn’t right.

Let me explain.

The Chicago Script Award had something akin to a general submission for full length features. I found this to be standard among the contests I was entering: there would be entries for full length features, shorts, TV shows, all different types of projects that really needed their own category to fairly judge all the submissions.

Chicago, however, offered a category that wasn’t necessarily offered by all other contests: First Time Screenwriter. Now, given the guidelines for submissions in this category, I should point out that I did qualify. It was for writers who hadn’t had any of their scripts made into a feature length movie already. I believe even if you had a script optioned you couldn’t qualify. So this wasn’t a situation where I explicitly entered a contest I shouldn’t have.

I can even explain my mindset on this entry. In horse racing, owners may have a horse that can compete at a certain level, but not necessarily came away with wins. For example, a horse might have the speed and talent to run a stakes race, but it will rarely get into the winner’s circle. What savvy owners will do when they see this is drop the horse down a level in competition, maybe into something called an allowance race. The winnings from the race won’t be as high, but the competition will be easier, which could lead to more wins.

My thought was that if Dig Down was good enough to place as a finalist against all other entries, I would have a real leg up against first time writers. But I also feel this went against the spirit of this particular category. While its true that I didn’t have a writing credit to my name when it came to scripts, my screenplay for Dig Down now had the extra level of editing and polish thanks to the feedback provided by industry professionals, something other entries were likely not to have. By the standards of the rules for entry it was a level playing field, but it also wasn’t.

More than that though, I also regret it because I felt for the first time in this process, I was selling my script short. I had entered the Page Turner Competition using the option to get feedback and a phone consultation, the most costly option they had, because I believed in my script. And I was proud of the results, placing as a finalist. Entering in the first-time writer category felt like it was betraying that belief, like I was conceding it wasn’t good enough to beat the field, but if I narrowed it to what was likely to be a lot of first-time entrants, even though my script wasn’t a first-time entrant, that I could score a cheap win.

Regardless of whether or not I get a win in any screenwriting contest, I won’t ever enter as a first-time screenwriter again.