I guess I saw no advantage in quitting. And how else would I spend my days?

NOTE: “Getting Published," the full story, is available 4 FREE/Kindle, in my ©2020 book,“NEW DARK AGES––How a Punk Movie EMERALD CITIES Got Its IMPROV”: <https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08FZRB93P>.

Nov 30, 2023

I stared at a velo-bound master copy of what I had sent out with Jayne, and wondered if I could finish the job without her help. How I overcame my worries and self-doubts to continue is hard to imagine, but I did. I guess I saw no advantage in quitting. And how else would I spend my days? It was basically all I had. Back into my routine, typing away between 6AM-8AM (wife to work, baby in diapers needing bottle), the writing rhythm returned. It was sometime after I had a full manuscript in hand, all chapters completed, that it hit me. Maybe I could approach the same interested editors Jayne had found, as a new starting point. Perhaps they could recommend other publishing houses…or a new agent?

First off, I phoned editor Bob Miller at Warner Books—he remembered the title and repeated his apology for passing on it. When I broached my need for a new agent (mentioning that Jayne was out of commission), he was helpful, supplying me with a name––Carol Mann. Without hesitation, he added, “She’s Nice.” Good, I thought, I like nice people. I had no idea she was also a top New York agent. If he had told me that, mentioned her reputation, I might never have made a call. I wrote down her name and phone number, but didn’t call that day I knew I didn’t have the proper brain-power or energy yet, to clearly pitch my book. So instead, over a few days, I spent time designing a small film-strip logo to decorate the front cover, to enhance my future velo-bound submissions.

Later that week, as I watched my now year-old son sleeping nearby in his crib, I called New York information, for the central number at Viking Penguin Books. For some reason, I decided to try that publishing house again. Keep in mind that, in those mid-1980s days, a long-distance call cost a pretty penny. So I was wasting money as well as being crazy.

After a couple rings a nice sounding woman at what I assumed was the receptionist desk answered, saying the standard spiel, “Viking Penguin Books, how may I direct your call?”

“Hello…” I said, preparing to pose my important question. “Just wondering if you might know an editor who would be interested in a filmmaking book.” There was hardly a pause before the woman answered.

“Well...there is a lovely young lady here, who seems to be fond of talking about movies. Her name is Lisa. Lisa Kaufman. Here’s her extension (and she gave me the digits to punch in). Good luck.”

And that was it. If you’ve seen the movie, It’s A Wonderful Life, you know that I spoke with the femaleversion of that angel, Clarence, who helped Jimmy Stewart to regain his will to live. In my case, I was helped by a receptionist who had broken all the house rules (they are forbidden to give out names of editors, etc. I learned this later, when I tried the same approach for another book and got nowhere with the person who answered at Viking). Anyway, I wrote down the information, and again waited to make the call. I wanted to be at my best before I gave it a shot.

More weeks passed. Then I noticed the name Lisa and the New York number in my notebook. I barely remembered who it was, how I got it or why (crying babies can do that to brain cells). But Marlon was napping at that moment, and it being around 11AM, California time––I added it up to be 2PM in New York–– I thought, What the hell! I did feel better than usual for no reason I could discern. So I decided to give The Big Call a try. I was fairly calm as I dialed Lisa Kaufman’s extension (just another shot in the dark...).

“Hello?”

I had expected an answering machine, but suddenly what seemed to be a very young woman was on the line.

“Hi,” I began. “Just wondering if you’d be interested in reading my book on low-budget feature filmmaking?”

“How did you get my number?”

For some reason I answered, “I can’t remember.” In that moment of pressure I couldn’t think straight, felt incapable of supplying an answer that involved trying to explain who the Clarence-like Viking phone operator was. Fortunately, Lisa let the conversation move forward.

“What’s your book?”

“It’s called Feature Filmmaking at Used-Car Prices, and tells how to make a movie the cheapest way possible.”

“Have you done this? ”

“Yes. I’ve made three features this way...and taught a production class. The movies are, A Man, a Woman, and a Killer, Showbo...”

“Don’t say anymore,” Lisa interrupted, “I want to read it. Is it a complete manuscript?”

“Yes.”

“OK,” she said, “Send it to me here at Viking.”

She gave me the Viking Penguin address and said she’d look for it. And, “Bye.”

Well, that was interesting, I thought, grabbing a diaper from the box. Back to Mr. Mom activities. Just another blind attempt––more wasted long-distance minutes, printing expenses and postage. But I sent a manuscript copy off the next day and then tried to forget about it. I thought, No sense in dwelling on such an off-the-wall and fluky submission.

Maybe a week later, I finally felt like using the phone number for the agent whose name editor Bob Miller had supplied. And again, in my no-pressure way (I was just calling a nice person), I made the call. And a woman answered. I doubt I was even sure that I was speaking to Carol Mann, but after her Hello I began to explain what I was selling––A film book, low/no-budget moviemaking, complete manuscript... Before she could respond, I added, ...and Bob Miller recommended you.

“Bob Miller!” she exclaimed. “Then I definitely want to see your book!”

Well, OK. Great, I thought. I agreed to send Carol a copy, got her address and hung up happy. What was all that about? I wondered. Obviously Bob Miller was someone well known to her. But, who was he? I had no idea.

Since this happened before the Internet, before Google searching, it was hard-to-impossible to investigate who a stranger was, professionally or otherwise. In any case, I then went about wasting more money (copies/mailing), gambling that another ms. copy out in the world might help my cause. And another three weeks slipped by. Just like blindly applying for filmmaking grants, I thought. No harm done. Just shouldn’t bother having any expectations.

Finally, too many weeks had passed. I decided to call the Carol Mann Agency again. And Carol answered again (the agency was tiny at the time, not full-fledged like it is today).

“Hi,” I began. “This is Rick Schmidt again. I sent you my filmmaking book. Just checking to see if you’ve had a chance to read it yet?”

“No, sorry. And, please remind me. What is it about?”

“No-budget feature filmmaking.”

“Are there other books like yours?”

“No.”

I could quickly respond with confidence, reciting what I’d learned from researching the film book market at the local library. Fortunately, I’d done my homework. The creation of my four-page query letter, which traditionally included research of the supposed market for a submission to publishers and agents, had saved the day.

“OK, I’ll take it,” said Carol. “Please send me five clean copies and we’ll send them out.”

“Great! Thanks.”

————————

Next up; The real BOOK DEAL was upon me!

So suddenly I had an agent again, someone who was ready to submit my book to NY publishers. I had no idea that with the Carol Mann Agency a powerhouse was behind getting my book(s) out into the world.

Rick’s Substack

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