"As long as I can remember I've wanted to be a writer. When my family would leave for weekend outings, I would stay home and write. I'm not sure I'd recommend it to everyone, but it worked for me. The only way I've been able to progress within my craft is to work at it for years." 
                                                        -- Richard Finney 
                                              From Screenwriting on the Internet 
                                                                 by Christopher Wehner

My Screenwriting career started when I had the first three of my low budget horror screenplays optioned by different producers. Though none of the projects ever got made... getting the buzz and having three writing samples really proved valuable in getting my first screenwriting job at a studio. 


My first studio screenwriting job was at Hollywood Pictures (it was a movie division of Walt Disney Pictures). It was for a project that eventually did get made. 

It was an unusual situation because my writing partner (James Bonny) and I were brought in to work on a version of the project that would take place on a military base. Meanwhile, the original screenwriters were doing the more faithful adaptation of the Heinlein book. The writers we were competing against were Terry Rossio and Ted Elliot... yeah, that's right the guys who eventually wrote "Aladdin" and "The Pirates of Caribbean" movies! There is a very wonderfully written blog entry by Terry Rossio that explains the whole situation --

The fact that I'm giving you his blog entry rather than go into details, shows you not only did he cover what happened better than I could ever do, his version of the movie ended up winning out. 

But it was a great experience. And my first experience writing in the studio system. I learned a ton. 


"Parents always lie to their children, to prepare them for the way they'll be treated later by the government."

"I wrote that line!" I said to my wife as we were watching the premiere of the movie, "Maximum Risk." I was brought on to the project by my mentor Daniel Petrie Jr. At the time Jean Claude was solid box office and Columbia Studios had him on a "pay or play" deal for this movie. We completely rewrote the original script, turned it into the studio and they gave the project a green light. We did another draft before moving onto a couple of other projects.

Maximum Risk

I didn't get credit for my screenplay work on the film because Dan and I chose not to pursue the situation with the Writers Guild arbitration committee. It's a decision I've regretted because this movie is one of the few movies starring Jean-Claude that has gotten decent reviews. And for better or for worst, it's our screenplay they pretty much shot. 

Still, my name was in Premiere Magazine for the first time (the editors assumed we were going to get credited for the movie) and the film ended up getting a positive review in the "New Yorker" magazine!


My screenplay career really took off as I began working at all the different studios. I also sold a serious of pitches, most significantly to Steven Spielberg at Dreamworks. I worked for over a year at the studio on the project and though, once again, it never got made, it was great working with some huge people in the industry!


I’m not only a screenwriter, I'm a producer with eleven film credits. Here is the link to the page about my productions --


When Gravity was released in theaters I went to see it in IMAX 3D. 
Like most people who have seen the film, I was blown away. Gravity is wonderfully scripted, acted, and directed. The production also featured significant technological breakthroughs that compel audiences to see Gravity in a movie theater if they are to get the most from the experience.  
Watching Gravity prompted other thoughts, more personal in nature.
 I actually met with the director of Gravity over ten years ago and had the chance to change the course of my screenwriting career.
And I choked.
At the outset I should say that for legal reasons I can’t reveal the project we discussed, but trust me, the specific project and any of the related details aren’t really important to the point of the story.

The meeting came about when Sandy Weinberg, my agent at the time, called with news that the director, Alfonso Cuarón, had read a screenplay I had written and really liked it. Cuarón had a production deal at Warner Brothers’ studio where the meeting would take place. Sandy didn’t have any more details beyond Cuarón wanting to meet and discuss the script, but I was excited because I had really enjoyed his previous movies and thought he was wonderfully talented director.   

So I arrived on the Warner Brothers lot for the meeting and was shown into his office immediately. From the moment we met, Alfonso was personable and smart, and he displayed both qualities without a hint of pretention or artifice. His English at that time wasn’t the greatest (I’m sure it’s gotten much better over the years), but it was certainly good enough to convey his views about what I’d written. He told me he really liked my script and went into some detail about the parts he had responded to and why he was excited about the project. His thoughts clearly demonstrated that he understood what I was going for creatively with the script and there was no doubt he’d be the perfect director for the project.
But after delivering his final compliment, he gathered his breath and then revealed that despite responding to the script, he also had a big problem with it. And for him, the problem was a deal breaker. It turns out Alfonso had brought me into his office so that we could brainstorm a solution to this story problem. If we were successful, his new contract at Warner Brothers would allow him to put the project into development with his company’s discretionary fund. So we immediately launched into an intensive discussion that covered every aspect of the script… story… characters… themes… plot… everything. And we eventually arrived back to what was bothering him about the screenplay. 
For the record, Alfonso’s creative problem was real and profound, which is my testimonial to how smart and insightful he is as a storyteller as well as a filmmaker. He had no way of knowing that his sticking point had been a long running creative issue with the project, one that I had worked hard to smooth over with every draft of the screenplay. And I’d been at it for the last five years.
Any screenwriter with experience at the studio level usually ends up realizing that you are often times in a room with some of the smartest and most creative people in the world. And any flaw or problem in your work is not likely to escape notice, rather, it will surely be highlighted. The goal of highlighting the flaw is almost always about trying to come up with a solution. Smart and creative people revel in the opportunity to solve a creative problem, while at the same time, I believe the goal of a screenwriter should be to solve your own story problems so that you’re never stuck with a solution dictated by someone else. But in this case, I would have relished a solution to the problem coming from any source, especially if it came from a talented filmmaker.  
As time ticked away, so did my confidence in coming up with an idea that would make Alfonso feel good that the problem he had with the script could be resolved. 
I should have anticipated the situation because I had already spent a ton of time trying to work out the same problem. Yet somehow, during the entire process of developing the story, that creative Eureka moment had never materialized. And the pressure of an impromptu creative meeting on a major studio lot with a brilliant director made the challenge to produce a breakthrough even more daunting.
Despite my best efforts, every solution I devised in that meeting completely bombed with Alfonso.
I knew we had reached the end when Alfonso’s assistant interrupted for a fourth time (to his credit, Alfonso had already cancelled three previously scheduled meetings so we could continue discussing “the problem”) to remind his boss that he needed to leave for his next meeting, one that he could not cancel or reschedule. 
Our meeting ended up lasting over two hours.
I will never forget the disappointment on Alfonso’s face as his eyes looked toward the carpet in his office as he said, “My friend, I don’t think we’ve solved the problem.” 
I had blown it.
I had missed the shot at the buzzer.
Dropped the Hail Mary pass in the end zone.
Watched helplessly as the puck squirted through my legs for the winning goal.
I had completely choked on a great opportunity to change my screenwriting career.
As it turns out, when the movie was eventually produced, the exact creative story problem that Alfonso Cuarón had with the project ended up hurting the finished film, and was reflected in the reaction by both audiences and critics. 
Failure is a part of the industry.  Even success is often laced with failure. I believe one only perseveres as a screenwriter if you are disciplined in handling the fallout that comes from failure. My advice to other screenwriters has always been to thoroughly examine any failure like an autopsy -- embrace and document the details, sort through all the issues, and try to decode what led to the breakdown. 
Then let go. 
Move on.
Learn from the autopsy so you can evolve as a writer, but don’t allow your failure to hinder your progress as a working professional. I believe that those who don’t adhere to this, will eventually no longer be working professionals.
And yet… walking out of the movie theatre after being dazzled by the beauty of Gravity, I couldn’t help but think about how my career would be different… if I had just been able to solve that story problem many years ago on the Warner Brothers studio lot.
At this very moment I feel as if I’m on the top of my creative game, and given the same opportunity today, I really believe I would nail that meeting with Alfonso.
But I couldn’t do it then.

And I have never stopped wondering why.