How and why, exactly, does one make the jump from special effects artist to writer/director? What turmoil does a special effects artist endure because of a screenwriter’s description? And what happens when life throws you a curveball? Those are a few of the many things that Sheridan wanted to find out when he sat down to compose his questions for the rather versatile J.T. Cummins.
Q: First off, tell us a little about yourself. Who is J.T. Cummins?
A: In nine-hundred words or less? (Laughs). I’m an American born, Los Angeles based author-screenwriter who studied art and film at the California Institute of the Arts under the only full character animation scholarship awarded by the Walt Disney Company during the institute’s 1978-79 academic year. After realizing that animation was a “24 frame a second drag,” I dropped out of CalArts and fell back on my film and mask making hobbies to find work.
My initiation into the special make-up effects world began as a lab technician at the Burman Studio working on Robert Altman’s Popeye, but my sculpting ability quickly led to more creative assignments on such films as The Beast Within and Cat People. When things got slow at the studio, Tom Burman took care of his crew by farming us out to Stan Winston where I worked on The Exterminator, Dead & Buried, and Heartbeeps. During a summer lull at both Tom and Stan’s shops I took a sculpting gig on a little John Carpenter movie called The Thing. Effects Maestro Rob Bottin immediately chained me to a work bench, and I didn’t escape until fourteen months later. (Laughs) In effects circles, much has been made of my leaving that production before it wrapped two months later, but I was presented with the opportunity to key my own show, so I left to design and execute the special make-up effects for Strange Invaders. That job bled into others, namely; House, The Twilight Zone, Slumber Party Massacre II, Enemy Mine, a stint at Hasbro Toys, etc.
After working steadily in the FX industry for a decade, I made a conscious decision in the late eighties to move up another rung on the film industry ladder. So I sat down, wrote a script titled The Boneyard, enlisted the aid of my FX line producer Richard F. Brophy, drew up a limited partnership, and we spent the next two years knocking on doors and raising funds. The project finally came together in mid 1989, and its distribution by Prism Entertainment in 1990 established Rick as a producer and me as a screenwriter and director. Rick and I repeated the process and made two other indie films together; Dark:30 (1993), and Harbinger (1996). Thanks to the bankruptcy of the film’s distributor and legal squabbles over ownership, Dark:30 was never released. Harbinger however was sold to a European conglomerate that redubbed it for foreign markets and retitled it Dangerous Jobs — which makes it sound like a Discovery Channel documentary series. Due to its Mexican/American heroine, Harbinger pops up occasionally on late night Spanish television. Certainly not the fate I intended, but I’m happy that the film is at least out in the world and entertaining people.
Q: When did you first become aware that films were actually made and that there was an entire machine and process behind what you were seeing on the screen?
A: As someone who was able to draw at an early age and who loved comic and cartoon art, I was immediately aware that there was a mechanical process to their creation. I just naturally assumed that was the case with everything else – including movies.
Q: What was the first screenplay you ever read and how did it change or alter your approach or perspective on filmmaking?
A: When I was growing up in the sixties and seventies, screenplays weren’t as readily accessible as they are today, but I caught glimpses of them here and there – mostly as asides in magazine articles. I think my first look at a pseudo script was a published version of The Exorcist screenplay. While much of the formatting had been changed to accommodate the average book reader, it was still instructive and led me to try my hand at writing my own scripts. Oddly enough, one of my earlier efforts was a haunted house opus titled House. A little fateful foreshadowing there, perhaps?
Q: What was it, specifically, that first drew you to the special effects aspect of filmmaking?
A: It was just a natural off-shoot of my artistic ability coupled with my interest in fantasy films. Like nearly every other kid out there who was into movies or read Famous Monsters of Filmland, I made my own Super 8 productions, and while totally amateurish, they helped lay the groundwork for what would become my future career.
Q: Let’s talk a little about your special effects work. Can you lead us through the process of what happens, exactly, when an FX artist is handed a script?
A: Since there were always time constraints on reading a script and presenting a bid, my first reads were always done with an eye toward what would fall within my job pervue. So while I would read I’d use a yellow highlighter to mark descriptions of the effects. Afterward, I would never reread the whole screenplay again, but only refer back to those scenes that required my involvement. In a lot of ways that’s how I learned how to write screenplays — reading so many for work, their style, grammar, and formatting just sunk into my subconscious by osmosis.
Q: How much do FX artists rely on a script?
A: Effects are so expensive to manufacture, it’s prudent to only create what is described or necessary for any given scene. However it is really the director and not the writer who will ultimately decide what will and will not be manufactured. While some directors slavishly expected exactly what was on the written page, the best ones were open to input and the reconceptualization of the effects.
Q: As an FX artist what do you like to see in a script? What don’t you like to see?
A: My main goal as an effects artist was always to serve the screenplay first. So, whether or not a director wants us to follow the writer’s descriptions, or come up with something on our own, I still feel that good descriptions of the effects passages are vital. I mean, if what the writer sees in his mind’s eye is not on the page, it won’t be on the stage — period. Also, vagueness is not helpful. Lovecraftian-like passages like: “The creature was so hideous it could not be described” may seem intriguing on the page, but it does nothing to communicate a solid visual image for anyone to work from. I say fully describe what you want to see as a writer, then at least it’ll have a fighting chance of making it onscreen.
Q: Which FX creation are you most proud of? Why?
A: Oddly enough, it would be the Driller Killer’s guitar in Slumber Party Massacre II. It may seem an unlikely choice for a former special effects artist who is primarily known for his creature work, but that guitar was a fun piece to sculpt and execute, and is more in line with my art nouveau leanings as a sculptor. Second runner up: Big Ben from House, primarily because of the revolutionary way radio controlled servos were used in that character to augment facial expressions in what was essentially a prosthetic appliance worn by an actor.
Q: When did you become interested in writing and directing? Why?
A: Like a lot of my peers, my imagination was fired by the early films of Harryhausen, George Pal, and Hammer Studios, and also writers like Bradbury, Bloch, King, Ellison. As I already mentioned, I originally came out to Los Angeles after I applied for and won a scholarship to attend Disney’s California Institute of the Arts. When I tired of the repetitive routine of animation I fell back on my special make-up effects hobby and turned it into a career. But after a decade of frustration with the way I felt practical effects were being used, I thought instead of complaining about it, do something about it, so I started working toward writing and directing my first film.
Q: When you first started to learn the craft, did you read/study any how-to books on screenwriting, and if so, which ones did you find to be the most beneficial?
A: Nothing beats “doing,” so yes, I’m a big DIY advocate. That said, I was also a voracious reader and consumed anything on filmmaking and special effects I could get my hands on. Early favorites were Famous Monsters of Filmland, The Monster Times, and later Starlog, Fango, the great Cinefantastique, and Cinefex.
Q: As a writer, how and where do you seek out inspiration? Alternatively, what really inspires you to write?
A: This may sound arrogant and grandiose, but writing is world building. In my case I think it’s a by-product of my need to control. What better way to accomplish that than to create a universe in which you have some power over the fates of your characters – characters who for the most part are just divergent aspects of your personality anyway. Ooo, heavy! (Laughs) As far as inspiration is concerned? (Shrugs). It’s whatever whimsy that comes along that floats your boat and fires a synapse in your brain that makes you think: “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if…”
Q: What is your writing process like (i.e. schedule, outline, note cards, treatments, etc.)?
A: I don’t outline or write treatments. Never have. For me that process is counter intuitive to spontaneity. Instead, an idea will fixate in my brain, gestate – often for months – and when I feel I have somewhere to go, like maybe a cool scene to write around, or an ending or a theme I can anchor to, I’ll sit down and start writing. For me, not knowing the complete journey is part of the fun – it’s what motivates me and keeps me going. I want – need to solve the puzzle and fit all the disparate pieces together. Otherwise, I’ll go mad! Muhahaha! For me, pre-visualization kills that process. It’s the same thing with talking about a story beforehand or while I’m writing it. By verbalizing the story and putting it out into the world, my need for telling that particular tale is diminished. Doing that has killed more of my screenplays than I really care to admit, so now I just keep my musings to myself. For me, writing is an internal, intimate process, and only when I am finished with a screenplay and feel confident in what I have written, will I let anyone read it.
Q: What screenwriting software do you use and why?
A: My first screenplays were written on a manual typewriter. In fact, that’s how the first draft of The Boneyard was written – in four days – with lots of White-Out. (Laughs) Sounds crazy now, but that’s how it was done – and not that long ago either. Now I practically live at my desktop. Early in my writing career I set my own tabs, but when computers came into vogue I tried various screenplay formatting programs to varying success. Now however, I rely exclusively on Final Draft. Not because I think it’s the end-all of screenplay formatting products, but because it is ubiquitous in Hollywood and I know it will safely ferry my work through production pipelines.
Q: Once you’ve finished the first draft of a project, how many people, and who specifically, do you let read it?
A: If it’s a spec; generally only one or two people whose input I value. Otherwise, I’ll keep it pretty close to the chest until I’m ready to submit. After the initial round of feedback, I usually allow the script to sit for awhile – often months before I return for a rewrite.
Q: As the old adage goes: writing is rewriting. How do you approach and what is your process in regards to rewriting?
A: During the act of writing – especially where you work on a piece for months — I think it is really easy to be seduced by your shiny new creation when it’s completed and to lose some objectivity toward it. Luckily, the passage of time allows the work to tarnish a bit and gives a writer psychological space where they can mull their creation and regain some sense of perspective. This distance is especially helpful when you reapproach your work and it allows you to read the material with a fresh eye. That’s why I truly believe in the adage that “scripts aren’t written, but rewritten.” And I mean that on a technical level, as opposed to the process by which your work is appropriated by someone else or assigned to another writer and rewritten ad nauseam. Grrr.
Q: What was your first optioned/sold screenplay and how did the project come into existence?
A: My first option and sale was a screenplay titled The First Best Step. It was a road trip dramedy about a mental patient who escapes from a sanitarium and embarks on a cross country journey to attend his wealthy father’s funeral. Of course along the way, hilarity ensues. (Laughs) Not surprisingly, it was a dreadful early work, but I’d still love to have it back, because I think there’s enough humanity in that material that it would be worth redeveloping.
Q: How long did it take you to write it; from the first word to the final draft?
A: Probably three months. I never did a second draft, because after I placed The First Best Step with my agent Gilda Maiken (who was the former lead singer of the Skylarks), it was immediately optioned and a year later, sold to Off The Pier Productions. It was an all rights deal, so what happened to it from there, your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that their check cashed. (Laughs)
Q: What was life like for you immediately after that script sold?
A: The script’s sale served as validation that I could indeed write something that someone would take seriously enough to purchase. Of course it took another three years before I managed to option my next screenplay Little Monsters (no relation to the Fred Savage starrer), and then another year to option a horror script titled Shadow of Man, so there were considerable gaps between projects. Thank god I didn’t quit my day job. (Laughs)
Q: What was it like to sit in a darkened theater with an audience and watch your words come to life for the first time on the big screen?
A: It was an out of body experience. So much so, that I hardly remember the theatrical premiere of The Boneyard at all. However, the thing that I remember the most from that night isn’t a memory at all, but a feeling – pride. Pride that I had done what I had set out to do, which was to write and direct a movie – and I couldn’t wait to do it again.
Q: Also, what was it like to sit in a theater and watch people react to your special effects work?
A: Like screenwriting, much of the end result is out of your control and in the hands of others, so you’re proud when it comes off, and shrink-in-your seat embarrassed when it does not.
Q: Has watching actors act out and speak your written words changed your process in any way?
A: Yes. After The Boneyard, I forced the actors in my other films to say their dialogue exactly as written. (Laughs) In all honesty, film is a collaborative medium, so I think it is silly to think that a writer’s words are so precious that they can’t be improved upon. At the very least, listen, and be open to what your actors bring to the table. If you do, good bits of business and dialogue will come your way.
Q: Given all of the projects that you’ve worked on so far, what lessons have you learned that you’ll be implementing or using when sitting down to write any current or future scripts?
A: In Hollywood (1), the logline really is king. A good one will indeed open doors. (2) This should go without saying, but write strong, compelling lead characters. Whether or not a script can attract interest from name talent is always a consideration in its purchase. Think and write accordingly. (3) Don’t be boring. It is a sad fact, but in general, leisure reading is on the decline – and not just in Hollywood. Keep your action descriptions and dialogue lean, mean, and entertaining. It’ll keep your reader interested. (4) Please have your own world view – in other words; unless you’re James Cameron, don’t ape other movies (or your own) in your screenplay.
On a related side note: the two things that I see in screenplays that really bug me are (1) the failure of the writer to establish and maintain the inner logic of his own story, and (2) the failure to clue the audience in on the rules of the world the writer has created. I see these two things torpedo scripts and movies all the time – especially with regard to the “rules” aspect. My all time favorite example is Disney’s Return to Oz, wherein Dorothy is saddled with an obnoxious talking chicken named Billina for two hours for no apparent reason other than to be a wisecracking sidekick. However, only at the very end of the movie is the audience let in on Billina’s true purpose within the mechanics of the plot. You see, chicken eggs are poison (gasp!) to the evil Nome King. Worst of all, we only learn this fact after the Nome King has accidentally swallowed one of Billina’s eggs and begins to crumble into dust. Instead of the filmmakers bringing their audience along on a journey where our scrappy little heroine must rise to the occasion and smite her awesome foe, they are figuratively treated to the castration of the main character by the withholding of vital information central to the stories grand denouement. Chicken: 1, Dorothy: a big fat 0.
Q: Sum up your feelings of Hollywood today and the process of getting a script made into a film. Do you feel that it’s a good process overall?
A: What do I think of Hollywood? Comedian George Burns probably said it best: “show biz is a horrible b***h goddess.” (Laughs) But I might add, she still has some nice gams.
The process of making a script into a film in Hollywood really comes down to one’s own determination and your alliances. If I described to you in detail the hurdles I had to overcome, and the circuitous routes I had to take in order to get my little films made, you would not believe it – not even if you saw it in a movie. But the fact remains that there is no straight line wherein a screenplay turns into a film. There is no blueprint. It is different for every writer – every filmmaker. Sadly, no one is going to knock on your door tomorrow and offer you a dump truck full of money and beg you to turn your beloved screenplay into a film – at least not unless you do the legwork. And believe me, in your career as a screenwriter, you will walk miles upon miles. (Laughs) The reality of the situation is this; writing is a solitary discipline, and unless you forge alliances with other creative people, you are on your own – and that’s a tough row to hoe.
The film business, like every other business, works on a system of networking, and during your career you will purposely foster friendships and industry relationships to get ahead. It’s not underhanded, it’s not a crime, it’s not phony – it’s just the way things work. Bluntly, wouldn’t you rather recommend or work with a business associate you know personally, or a friend, as opposed to a complete stranger? I think that’s what is so great about higher learning when you’re young. Screw the academics. (Laughs) One of the most important things you’re going to take away with you when that university journey ends are the friendships you’ve made. And as you and your friends climb the job ladder, you’ll help each other up the rungs. That’s how life works. That’s how you will sell a screenplay, make a film, and sustain a career in Hollywood. Oh yeah, and a bucket load of talent doesn’t hurt, either.
Q: In 2002, your life was thrown a bit of a curveball. Can you tell us a little about it and how it’s changed your overall outlook on life and career?
A: Shortly after Dark:30, which was filmed on location in the Blue Ridge mountains of North Carolina I contracted scarlet fever which damaged my mitral heart valve. After a failed round of open heart surgery, a month later I was forced to endure a second surgery in order to install a mechanical mitral valve in my heart. Unfortunately, I quickly learned that my condition made me a liability on a film set, so it prevented productions from securing insurance. So in a heartbeat (pun intended), my directing career was over. (Big sigh)
However, as I’m an optimistic person, during my recovery I rebounded pretty quickly, wrote an inspirational picture book titled Good Things to Share, donated its sales to the American Heart Association’s health education school program Jump Rope for Heart, and began to rebuild my life as a writer. Thanks to industry friends and my constant badgering, I fell into a ghostwriting niche for awhile (don’t ask, because I certainly won’t tell). But being the control freak that I am, my heart wasn’t in it and I began writing my own specs. Over the years, like many other professional screenwriters in the trenches who make their living writing, optioning, and selling unproduced work, I’ve optioned and sold my fair share of specs. Yes, it’s anonymous, unglamorous work, and it can be frustrating, but I love the freedom — and it beats the hell out of digging ditches.
Q: Are you currently working on any projects? What else can we expect to be seeing from you?
A: Yes. Right now I am actually in the middle of negotiating a contract for the sale of one of my specs with a major European production company. But I’m not resting on my laurels.
Back in 2008, after two previous options, my spec 4Below sold to producer Nicholas Kalikow and executive producer Joel Schumacher. However, when it became clear that not even Schumacher with all his Hollywood clout could make the film a reality, I decided to act on the two year rights reversal clause in my contract and I reclaimed my script in 2010. While that may sound like a crazy move to most writers, it was a calculated move to build a content base for self-publishing. Why go this route? After the last interminable WGA upheaval, the threatened SAG strike, and then the sudden downturn in the economy, I decided it was time to diversify. So I rewrote several of my older screenplays, turned them into e-novels, and began selling them online in mid 2009. Of course, the digital book market has exploded since then, and my sales continue to double every month – far exceeding any of my expectations. That said, it has been a tumultuous ride (cursed with a steep learning curve, I might add), but it has been a helluva lot of fun and a creatively satisfying journey so far. Ironically, my exposure in the digital domain has led to other film related opportunities – including the option of one of my e-novellas. (Laughs) What a wacky world.
My suspense-thrillers include Minus Four (aka 4Below), Cobblestones, The Jitters, and Weaker Sex (co-written with Douglas Nabors a producer of the Emmy-award winning TV series Monk). So far, I am having a blast and I am grateful to be riding a wave for a change instead of being pounded by it. (Laughs) My e-fiction is available for digital download in all popular e-formats at online retailers including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and Scribd. You can find out more about my self-publishing adventures on my official site.
Q: Finally, any inspiring words for the aspiring special effects artists and/or screenwriters reading this?
A: For the aspiring FX artist I suggest you put together a kick ass portfolio or reel, and set up meetings at the various effects shops. Don’t be afraid to go directly to the source. Trust me, FX folks, whether in the visual or practical arenas, aren’t biding their time sitting on golden pedestals – they are friendly and shockingly approachable people, and they are always looking for talent to staff their shows. Just have good work in your book, be responsible, and don’t waste their time.
Screenwriting on the other hand is a more personal and difficult journey as there is no straight line of ascension. As I mentioned earlier, networking is key for a screenwriting career. Meet as many directors, producers, actors, and other writers and forge alliances with them. If all else fails and no one wants to help, help yourself, and by hook or crook, make that script into a movie and shop it to the studios, festivals, foreign sales agents, or self-distribute and put yourself on the map. At the very least you’ll gain experience and credibility. Really, what do you have to lose? Nothing is worse than a dream never attempted.
Check out more:
Official site @ jtcummins.com
J.T. Cummins @ IMDb
J.T. Cummins @ myspace
J.T. Cummins @ twitter.com/jt_cummins
The Boneyard @ IMDb
Dark:30 @ IMDb
Harbinger @ IMDb