My Own Version of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Deal
I was in a production meeting at Warner Bros. for the second Steven Seagal movie, Hard to Kill. It was called Seven Year Storm at that time. The director was a gentleman named Bruce Malmuth.
The screenplay had a car chase in it. The movie was low-budget and the sequence was scripted very tightly. Bruce however had come up with a way to make this chase different and special. He was frantic to do it, but he needed more money from the studio and an extra day of shooting. I remember Bruce rising from his chair and making an impassioned plea for just a few more bucks and a little extra time.
The Warners’ executive listened calmly and with no change of expression. Bruce resumed his seat. He was actually out of breath from delivering his fervent pitch.
The executive thanked Bruce for his commitment and his creativity. He saluted him as a dedicated filmmaker and a true artist. Then he said:
“Bruce, think of this movie as a sausage. It’s just another link and you’re grinding it out.”
Everyone around the table, including Bruce, burst into laughter. But we all felt a chill too, at hearing stated in such stark, no-nonsense terms the reality of the marketplace.
I remember thinking at the time,
The executive is right. This movie IS a sausage. And our job, all of us around this table, IS to grind it out.
But my attitude toward the grinding does not have to be cynical or condescending. In fact …
I am grateful as hell to be here working on this sausage and to have a chance to grind it out.
And furthermore …
Nobody, including the studio and the studio executive, can stop me from giving my all to make it the best sausage possible.
In the end I got fired off the picture. You won’t find my name in the credits. But I still agree with what I thought then.
Every project doesn’t have to be Citizen Kane. It’s okay to work on “B” movies or to write trade ads for Preparation H. As long as we do our absolute best and keep our eyes on the prize of producing, when we work for love and not money, our own best material, as truly as we can to our own lights.
DO THE WORK
Steve shows you the predictable Resistance points that every writer hits in a work-in-progress and then shows you how to deal with each one of these sticking points. This book shows you how to keep going with your work.
THE AUTHENTIC SWING
A short book about the writing of a first novel: for Steve, The Legend of Bagger Vance. Having failed with three earlier attempts at novels, here's how Steve finally succeeded.
NOBODY WANTS TO READ YOUR SH*T
Steve shares his "lessons learned" from the trenches of the five different writing careers—advertising, screenwriting, fiction, nonfiction, and self-help. This is tradecraft. An MFA in Writing in 197 pages.
TURNING PRO
Amateurs have amateur habits. Pros have pro habits. When we turn pro, we give up the comfortable life but we find our power. Steve answers the question, "How do we overcome Resistance?"
Interesting.
Keeping our eyes on the prize.Yes.
And there needs to be something called VALUES that guides the whatever production. A compass.
A divine One. That One who knows best. The perfect way. Do we listen for it? Do we ever get still enough to hear it?
É o profissionalismo, certo? O comprometimento com a excelência na nossa atuação.
“…In the end I got fired off the picture.”
Steve I am going to have a terse word with your editor.
I used to fly with a weapons system officer, –air-to-air refueling across the Pacific, nothing but ocean for hours/miles all around us– who would come up on the ICS and say “Hmmmm”
That was it. Followed by nothing.
Hmmmm what !!?? Hmmm that fire is interesting? Hmmm we are leaking fuel?!?!
Fired off the picture?!!? You can’t just leave us hanging like a Florida chad!!!
lol @ Florida chad
I worked in film for thirty-two years, art direction, set design, props, etc. I wasn’t super into movies; I preferred commercials (and did a ton of high-end resort shoots, in-room, in-house productions.) But I did work on a bunch of low-budget movie and television productions, doing my time in the “biz.” It’s a tough grind. I have worked with a lot of heavyweight crew, and there’s something I heard several times, to the effect, ‘if you haven’t been fired from a movie, you’re just not trying.’ It’s almost like it’s a badge of honor. Egos can run amok, and when things don’t go to plan, heads will roll, “guilty” or not.
Guess you’ll be tuning in next week to see what happened to the plane, Bill. 😉
No. The moral of your story here points precisely to the birthplace of the dry rot of American media. I love your work, Steven, but on this?–no.
Not just sausage. But LINKS of sausage. Bird by bird, right? Excellent. Tie it off and grind on. Rinse and repeat. And remember the words of a man we all know: Resistance – Die you mofo!
Appreciate this reminder, Steven.
It makes the money work of executive ghostwriting so much more worthwhile when I consider it as something that can support the life work.
What an interesting glimpse behind the scenes, it really shows how much passion and creativity go into making a film, even within tight budgets. I love hearing stories like this that highlight the determination of directors to bring their unique vision to life.
This may be more information than people want to know, but I use Preparation H.
Someone is doing a good job. It’s more than a “B” for me.
As Dan Kennedy says, when we bring good good into someone’s world, fix a problem for them, introduce them to something they wouldn’t have otherwise, we go from being “An annoying pest, to being a welcome guest”.
The hard part for me right now on a big online training project I’ve been developing for several years is the transition from “love” of the concept to cold hard business and marketing. It feels as though the love isn’t as strong as it was. Doubt/resisitance and market acceptance fear of acceptance/resisitance, seem to be smothering the project. It is sausage at this point. Thanks for the insight.
Thank you so much dear Steve.
Grinding the sausage, why haven’t I seen yet one of your books with that title yet? It hits the spot, and like a sausage it’s plain neutral and realistic, devoid of any colorful feelings or energies, plain matter. Like the machinery of the market out there – like the damned steel grinding-machine of all the societies’ sensible realities. That’s the one part of absolute necessity: it gives us the only and unavoidable entrance to the market.
And the other part is our best self. There we have our “competitive advantage that is worth hunting”. We are not just machines, but rather something more. And we must be most of it if we want to make a difference in the world and our lives.
So, grinding machine and character based on resilience and magic.
Sometimes I have to quote BARTON FINK to my authors to simply matters: “Look, it’s a wrestling picture. You got a good wrestler and a bad wrestler, and in the end they wrestle.”
Hats off to the Coen brothers!
Great story. Reminds me of one of the first on-location movies I worked on. The costume supervisor showed up at the warehouse/stage fresh off the plane from L.A. with a duffel bag over his shoulder and asked me “what the deal was.” I spent 5 minutes babbling about the costume shop, the stage set up, etc.. He let me finish and then said “I don’t give a shit about the costumes. I meant where’s accounting so I can get my per diem (cash)?” Going forward I leaned into the “sausage making” mentality of it all and that served me well.
Was he good at his job, Sam?
He was good, Joe. The movie … not so much!
Ha! I scroll Netflix or Prime, wondering how can there be so many hundreds of movies, and I can’t find one good one. (Admittedly, it could be a “it’s not you, it’s me” kind of scenario.)
It’s always thrilling to work on something new and exciting!
I’ve got this anecdote floating around my brain box. I feel like it might have come from Natalie Goldberg, maybe in Writing Down the Bones, and maybe talking about her Zen teacher, Katagiri Roshi? Could be a few crossed wires in there, but these scene is something like this:
The student walks into the zendo. She sees the revered Zen master… pushing a broom. The master is sweeping the floor with attention, presence, diligence, care, awareness. With the same presence and care with which the master attends to meditation in a sesshin.
In searching for the source of this anecdote, I came across another oft-told anecdote of a Zen master shaking a tree to scatter leaves again after a monk swept them up, teaching that the practice itself, not the result, is the essential lesson.
And by the way… if we’re eating, I prefer my sausage with a side of bacon.
Childhood memory resurfacing: Watching “Gomer Pyle, USMC” after school (usually with a PBJ or a bowl of Cheerios to hold us over until dinner).
Sergeant Carter making Gomer “move that sand pile from here to there.” Then immediately moving the sand pile from there, back to here.
Sgt Carter as Zen master. Gomer as the student.
Everybody should get fired once. It separates us from that dependency on others for a time. Allowing you to galvanize, or shift, your purpose.
Relationships, connection, art, all of these things are somewhat transactional. Whether we like it or not. But theres a balance to be found between the transaction and the love for it.
If anyone else was wondering about the “deal” mentioned in the title…
https://stevenpressfield.com/2022/02/liz-gilberts-deal-with-herself/
A bit off topic, but I wanted to share this today. This past week I opened two books I found on Writing Wednesdays. Walking the Trail by Jerry Ellis and All the Way to the River by Elizabeth Gilbert. The books were the right books at the right time. Ms. Gilbert’s work offered insight into addiction. Mr. Ellis’s book made my heart happy. Both books offered faith and hope.
If I’d never read these books, I don’t think I’d have had the skills needed to be present and to offer hope to someone who lost a friend through brutally, tragic circumstances this weekend.
This is why we must write, paint, make music, make art of all kinds and do our best. Though the world holds tragedy, there is also so much beauty. I’m thankful to all who share their beauty and insights through their work.
Jerry and Elizabeth thank you for your inspiring work. Steve, thank you for the War of Art. You’ve helped me to make no excuses and to sit down to do my work.
To all out there, keep to your tasks. You never know who may need your inspired works to transcend our human form to become better beings in this dance we call life.
I like how you put that, Jackie! I finished All the Way to the River recently and just gifted it to my daughter. I love that it was at once “how it’s possible to sink that low” and “how it’s possible to prevail,” one decision at a time 💝
A creatives/artists version of “All work is honorable.”
Good story.
Always put your best work forward.
You never know.
Some things later deemed to be classics were throwaways at the time. But people put their hearts into them, and they endured.
And, even that unlikely scenario aside, we ultimately answer to ourselves for what we do.