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A Starter’s Guide to Filmmaking in NWA or: How I Learned to Ingratiate and Educate Myself

By Lee LaMarche


photo courtesy of NWA Screenwriter's Collective

In January of this year, I decided to become a screenwriter.  Ballsy way to start, I know.  I was forty-three years old, had gotten married and moved to Bentonville only five years ago, and was a stay-at-home husband.  Sure, I’d written things before, but mostly short stories and articles.  My background was in dementia care, pizza-making, and fishmongering.  It wasn’t exactly a life pointing me toward this particular career.


That month I acquired a case of COVID-19 and was relegated to three rooms of my house: Guest bedroom, guest bathroom, and my office.  I couldn’t sleep, had a raging headache, and all the other fun things that come with this particular short-term affliction.  However, I had been sitting on an idea for a TV show.  It would be a half-hour comedy pilot that revolved around a pet adoption facility and the people who worked there.  But I’d never written a script before.  At least not one formatted in a way that people would want to look at.  Then, I found Beat.


Beat is a free, open-source scriptwriting software that helps you with the proper formatting.  It took the guesswork out of the only part I really couldn’t wrap my head around.  So there I was with all the tools and a few weeks of nothing stretching out before me.  I sat down, put my fingers on the keyboard, and slammed out thirteen episodes in a week.  It was strangely different from my other writing projects in that I felt like my brain was lighter.  As if I’d emptied it of something that had been pushing against it for months.  And I was proud of what I’d written, happy that it had evolved into something worthwhile.  But then I was left with a script and no outlet.  


This was right around the time I was reintroduced to Robert Babcock.  For people who don’t know him, you’re missing out on a one-of-a-kind guy who may not want the amount of press I want to give him.  He spoke honestly and openly about writing, filmmaking, and acting.  He told me about his methods, his life, and what drives him nuts (honestly, since that time I may have made that list).  But the result was encouragement and direction.    He pointed me to the NWA Screenwriter’s Collective saying that I may get something out of the meetings or I might not.  But that I should check them out to at least see what was going on.


The group meets once a month at The Graduate Hotel in Fayetteville.  Each meeting has its core attendees but also people from all over the industry who want to pop in and talk about their craft.  I found it fascinating.  The group is made of people who hadn’t yet written a single word, those who had their scripts ready to go, and others who had actually made their movies.  It was an interesting mix sitting in a circle in the second-floor vestibule on mismatched chairs.  The meeting also allowed me to do something my father taught me about business: “Never be the first one to leave a meeting.  You never know what you’ll hear if you stick around.”  This advice has served me well and in this case allowed me time to talk to people like Amber Lindley, Josh Baxter, and Taylor Grant.


It was soon after the second meeting that I realized my show wasn’t going to get made anytime soon.  I was trying to make something in an industry where I had zero resume.  Less than zero.  I only knew about four people who had any inside info.  So, I scaled back.  I’d been working on a full-length comedy film called Bruisers about two hitmen and I figured that I could write a short version that still expressed who the two characters were.  It would be in one location to make it even easier.  However, I also realized that many of the writers I’d met had the mentality that “I hope someone will someday make my script”.  This is fine for others but for me, it wasn’t good enough.  So I started talking up my short, telling people about the idea, and getting a Kickstarter campaign going.  I’ve never had trouble with self-promotion and this allowed me to send individual emails to people, make phone calls, and raise money.


During this time I also made contact with Marc Crandall.  Marc, known for his short film “Banana Triangle Six”, took an interest in what I was doing and we exchanged scripts.  Upon meeting in person to discuss them over coffee we found that we got along well.  Marc has been acting, writing, and producing for years and he came across as very mentor-ish.  At this point, I was thrilled to have someone interested in my project.  Not only that, but he said that he wanted to read my short film.  When he did, he expressed interest in producing it and even pledged money towards the project.  It was such a boost to my confidence in the project that I felt even more jazzed than before.


Since then, I’ve made it my job to meet with people in this community.  I don’t care if they are writers, directors, producers, actors, or even costumers.  I have turned myself into a sponge for information and colleagues.  I never go in expecting anything from these individuals.  My goal is to meet them and learn about them.  Maybe we’ll work together at some point but there is no agenda.  So, who have I met?  Let’s run the list from the beginning (If I forgot you, it wasn't on purpose).



This list doesn’t count the numerous individuals I connected with through Filmland, the ACS meetups, and other events.


The fact is that I’m still at the starting blocks of the first leg of my first race and yet so many amazing individuals have given their time to show me who they are, and what they do, and prove that it doesn’t matter where you are, there is a community of people who will help raise you up if you just make your voice heard. Everyone mentioned in this piece deserves your attention and especially your curiosity.


I'm also happy to announce that the Fiction Filmmakers website is now online. If you know any directors or producers (including local film students) who are interested in finding scripts, send them my way.

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