Hollywood: Confessions of a Personal Assistant

Upon arrival in Hollywood many future writers will find themselves in the role of the personal assistant. This type of job can help you build a foundation in Los Angeles as you aspire to become a working writer. The important thing is to maintain perspective and use this time as a learning experience that will help you down the road. For more on this experience, I interviewed Jeffrey Kent, personal assistant for an A-list producer recently nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards. Like many writers, Jeff gives his days to one of the thousands of behind the scenes positions that keep this town moving. His experience can shed some light on how being an assistant interfaces with the craft of writing day-to-day, and some of the ways it doesn’t.

DW: How long have you considered yourself a "writer"? Why screenwriting?

JK: I’ve always been hooked on the creative process. I didn’t come from a traditionally “artistic” family, but they were a crafty bunch, so something must have rubbed off on me. Once adolescence arrived in the form of heartache and pimples, so did the desire to tell stories. Making little backyard movies, as ridiculous as they were, helped me to believe in a larger sense of myself. It wasn’t until college that I discovered the craft of screenwriting. I’m still learning. I think good writing is a blend of art and craft. I love the control of it. The catharsis. The irony. The writing process is really the only time things happen the way I want them to. I’m a director and producer as well, and once you’re in that territory, you’re just fighting to retain the initial idea or image you had in your head. When you put it on the page, it’s just the way you want it. For the time being, at least.

DW: Can you talk about your habit? How do you like to work, outlining, note cards, etc?

JK: I have inconsistent habits! Life gets in the way a bit too much, and I have a lot of outside interests. I will say that living a well-rounded life outside of “the movies” really gives me a lot as a writer. I read a lot of scripts. I can always tell when the writer has never swung a hammer, held a gun, fallen in love, been drunk, been truly afraid, or even been truly happy. You can tell when someone has never stepped outside their comfort zone and lived life, because they are not coming from a truthful place. So perhaps just living life and observing the world around me is my first and best habit. When I’m on my A-game, I’m a meticulous outliner. I figure out what I’m trying to say, and I try to say it in the best, most economic way possible. I spend a lot of time refining the outline before I even dare write the script. I write everything down, and if I can’t do that, I record everything. I have hours of audio “notes to self.” I’m sure they’ll be amusing at my funeral.

DW: Where did you go to school? Did you intern?

JK: I attended San Francisco State University. The program was unconventional and at times frustrating. The faculty seemed really averse to anything linear, anything “commercial.” If you had aspirations of actually working in Hollywood, you were made to feel like an outsider. That said, the great thing about their film program is that the bureaucracy that characterized it only prepared me for what awaited in the real filmmaking world. I didn’t intern, I just kept making shorts with my friends. That has always been my best learning experience. I did participate in a brief series of screenwriting seminars that made their way to the San Francisco Bay Area. I didn’t rub shoulders with any big writers, but at the time, it was just great to meet real people who were trying to do the things I wanted to do. A typical day at SFSU felt like I was being murdered by a clown in a German expressionist film, but at these seminars, I got to meet and talk to “real” writers and producers who welcomed, encouraged, and inspired me.

DW: You’re an assistant. I think assistant, I think “Swimming with Sharks.” Is it as bad as it is always made out to be? You’ve done it for years, what has it taught you about screenwriting?

JK: It depends. The odds of getting matched with “challenging personalities” is greater in our business. There are tough days, belittling moments, but you take it in stride. I’ve been lucky to work for good people. I always try to focus on the good. I tell myself “Look where you live, Jeff.” I remind myself how great Southern California is, that you have to TRY to be bored. There’s that much going on. And I tell myself, “You work in the movie and TV business.”

There is a creative charge in the air, even on the bad days. I’ve had a lot of jobs. Pool guy, vending machine guy, plumber’s apprentice, Lord knows what else. Life could be mediocre, which is like death to me, but it’s not. You have to “swim with sharks,” so grow a thick skin and sharp teeth. Alcohol helps too.

I’ve been an assistant for six years, and it’s taught me pretty much nothing about screenwriting in terms of execution. It has, however, taught me a lot about the business of writing, developing, producing, and selling screenplays.

Also, this article that screenwriterJosh Olsenhad in the Village Voice a few years ago shook me up in a great way. This should be required reading for anyone in the industry, especially writers: I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script.

DW: Can you take me through the life of script in your office? As an assistant you are the barrier between a top producer and a stack of scripts…

JK: I don't decide the fate of the script. The writer does, when he hits "send" prematurely.

This is really a complex question to answer. Some scripts have been circulating the office for the last four or five years, sometimes longer. Some are projects that have had various false starts for various reasons. Others are old ones that need to have the dust blown off them when funding prospects arise.

The best stuff I’ve read, the best writers, all have one thing in common: respect the reader – i.e. respect for the audience. And with that, they place the highest value on telling the truth from moment to moment, on the page.  The mistake I see most often is a complete and utter disregard for that truth.  I also think people mistake proximity for opportunity. People prematurely and desperately submit their writing without any regard for craft just because they have access to a producer or production company. As if access gives them some license to disregard the craft. It amazes me the stuff that gets to us. I work for a very respected and successful producer with good taste, and I would shoot myself in the face if any of my work landed on his desk in the same condition as some of these other “finished” screenplays. I’m embarrassed for these poor souls, their desperation. People need to realize that if you aren’t sending your best work in, they are doing themselves and everyone involved a huge disservice.

DW: How has it affected your "craft" i.e. schedule, productivity, the way you think about your writing?

JK: I learn a lot of what not to do. I read a lot of screenplays. Most of them are gloriously and absolutely atrocious. I won’t explain my theories as to why; Josh Olsen does a better job in the aforementioned article. Alternatively, when I read the great scripts, I’m reminded of how words, the way one arranges them, have so much meaning and power. Reading a great screenplay doesn’t feel like reading at all. It feels as effortless and joyful as watching the movie unfold before your eyes. Few people understand how to funnel the language of cinema through their fingertips.

Juggling an assistant gig and your own personal writing schedule can be daunting. The fact of the matter is, writing time will have to compete with whatever takes up your time between the hours of 9am and 7pm. Just because you are an industry “assistant” doesn’t guarantee you’ll be better equipped to churn out the great American screenplay. I get exposed to a lot of valuable information, and I have learned a lot of valuable lessons at my job, but I still have to fight for my writing time.

DW: You recently had the opportunity to transcribe an Oscar-nominated screenplay. Can you talk a little bit about that process and if it has changed your habit at all?

JK: I did, indeed. Other than the obvious prestige and excitement of getting to be part of such a great project, it really just helped with my patience and discipline. Transcribing 180 pages is a mind and ass-numbing process, one that forced me to stay seated and keep typing; two things I try to apply to my own writing process.

DW: When dealing with working writers, is it fair to say there are no rules except that the writing must be good? What I mean is, how much of the rules you were taught in school actually apply to modern screenwriting format?

JK: The writing must be great. Real writers understand that. People with good taste understand that. Craftsmanship always applies, but the application of that craftsmanship can be unconventional. Take Tarantino for example. His scripts are everything that most screenwriting professors tell you not to do. He has a freewheeling style to his writing that’s all his own. He makes it look easy, as if anyone can do it like him and be successful at it. But make no mistake about it: Tarantino cares deeply about the written word, he cares deeply about storytelling structure, character, plot, theme, tone, irony, you name it – and it shows in his work, as unconventional as his writing appears. His scripts are just pure cinema, and they’re a joy to read. Always. He cares about his reader and he cares about his audience. Being unconventional may be a license to cut through red tape and redefine the way we make our art, but it shouldn’t be mistaken as an invitation to write poorly. Much too often, it is.

DW: You've seen scripts go from scribbled pages, through production, and into award season. Can you talk about the speed with which things change and the process from the production side? Is a script being altered down to the last shot?

JK: I think you must arrive at a place where you can’t possibly write anymore. The professional writer knows when his engine is finely tuned, and the professional is even selfless enough to let other capable hands help to fine-tune it. I believe that most of a movie’s problems can be resolved on the page, and from there, a great director and great producers can only elevate it. However, even the best director can’t do anything with a terrible script.

If you’re lucky enough to get your project made, it will absolutely be altered in some way, down to the last shot. The best-case scenario is that YOU are the one doing the altering. That was the case with the feature I was fortunate enough to work on through awards season. The same mad scientist who created and perfected it on the page also guided and adapted the project through production and thereafter. The finished product deviated somewhat from the original script, but it didn’t matter. Both are great. That’s one of the best qualities of a strong writer/director; they know when to stop being the writer and start being the director.

DW: This world of assistants, you all stay in touch. You recently collaborated on a project that sort of lampoons what you do, with other assistants. You've taken "write what you know" to an interesting place. Can you talk about this process?

JK: My partner and I created this project a few years ago. It’s a series called Breaking & Entering. The pilot was one of those scripts that just wrote itself. We had a lot of frustrations and a lot to say about what assistants really do. No television show or web series that we have seen has ever really captured the world of entertainment industry assistants. There have been attempts, like you mentioned Swimming With Sharks, but they always seem to either glorify assistants or turn them into a punchline somehow. I know that folks really loved Entourage, and it was a well-done, successful, funny show, but I could never get into it. I always felt a little sick to my stomach when I watched the show, like ‘this is the town I work in…ughhh these people are awful.’ I say that with a slight smile.

We wanted the anti-Entourage. We wanted to try and show the real underbelly of the industry from the perspective of assistants. We wanted them to be working class characters, who were always struggling to make ends meet. Each character's boss we never see, yet we feel their presence and their reach through cell phones that never get turned off and through the character's body language that never seems to be at ease. The weight of the job is always felt. We wanted to capture the frustrations, the irony, and humor of it. We finally got to shoot the pilot a few months ago. It’s still being cut, so I'm not sure if we pulled it off. We'll keep trying.

DW: Do you have any advice to aspiring writers considering assisting?

JK: Dive in. Go to work. Learn from the people who know. Assisting is more often than not a thankless job; it's the nature of the work. Try not to let it rule your creative life. After all, this is just work. The best-case scenario is if that work can feed you creatively while propelling you forward. If you don't feel that your assistant job does either of those things, it's time to leave. The last thing I would say is don't let other people frame up your opportunities for you. Do that for yourself. If you don't like the way things are going, yet someone in charge is telling you that it’s what you need to do, always go with your gut.