Chapter 13

As for movies, many screenwriters earn fame but not fortune.

The industry is rife with people known as "ghostwriters," who are mostly students from film and television schools who have yet to graduate. They write scripts for some well-known screenwriters. Production companies typically offer these "ghostwriters" 1,000 yuan per episode, but the works are not credited to them. Although this price is not insignificant for newcomers, because it is a "black box operation," their rights are often even less protected, and getting paid is not easy.

Before starting work, screenwriters usually receive a deposit, which varies in proportion to the total remuneration: for big names and familiar faces, the initial deposit can be 50%; but for most screenwriters, it is only 30%, or even as low as 10%.

The more detailed the payment schedule for screenwriters, the more control the investors have over each stage, and the greater the possibility that screenwriters can be "fired" at any time. Moreover, compared to the hundreds of thousands of yuan that big stars earn per film, the return on investment for screenwriters' intellectual labor seems meager. For immature scripts or less established screenwriters, investors may withdraw funding or discard the script at any time.

There is no screenwriters' association in China, and there are no relevant laws to regulate the industry. Intellectual property rights are also poorly protected, so delays and denials of payment, and script plagiarism, are common. If you are not famous, you are just waiting to be exploited.

In the United States, most screenwriters belong to the Screenwriters Guild.

And they are very united.

Chen Tiandu had to submit a brief script for "Saving Private Ryan" to the script database for filing, pay membership fees, and register with the Screenwriters Guild. His phone is globally connected, and its functions are quite powerful, so registering as a member does not require U.S. citizenship and is quite easy.

Doing so can prevent similar scripts from appearing and avoid copyright disputes. When signing with major companies, the guild provides support, which is very helpful for outsiders like Chen Tiandu.

The current contract of the Screenwriters Guild will expire in 2007.

According to this contract, the minimum fee for an original script from the six major film companies is $106,000, and the price for a TV script from major networks is approximately $21,000 for a prime-time comedy and $31,000 for a prime-time drama. Many screenwriters earn much more than this.

For scripts of films produced by major film companies, the fee is at least $1 million, and well-known screenwriters may earn $4 million per film. According to data from the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers, the average annual income for Hollywood screenwriters is $200,000, which is already quite high compared to the average annual income of Los Angeles residents and most Americans.

Such good conditions are enough to make domestic peers want to commit suicide by slamming their heads against tofu.

However, everything is relative.

If you compare the income of American screenwriters to that of actors, directors, and executives of film and television companies, screenwriters will feel unbalanced and may feel the need for a significant raise. This is also the direct cause of the major screenwriters' strike that shocked North America a few years later.

Screenwriters' strike?

If this term were to be heard in China, many people might be indifferent, thinking, "If they strike, they can just leave. So many people are waiting to take their place, so there's no need to worry about finding someone." The term "strike" is not even a concept for Chinese screenwriters, who at most might quietly leave and have their scripts taken over.

But in the United States, the Screenwriters Guild is so powerful. For the overall benefit, when the guild orders a strike, screenwriters must comply, and the entire entertainment industry could come to a standstill, even the Oscars might be suspended.

The next day, after waking up in the hotel arranged by the production company, Chen Tiandu went directly to DreamWorks. He was accompanied by a supervisor from the Screenwriters Guild and a lawyer they had hired, who would be his support.

After waiting for over an hour, he was getting impatient. He did not see Spielberg, but a middle-aged man suddenly appeared.

"Mr. Chen, my name is Robert Rodat, and I am also a screenwriter. May I ask you a few questions?"

"Nice to meet you, please ask."

"Forgive me, but you are a Chinese student, and you look to be in your twenties. How can you write a story about the American army's landing at Normandy, and especially one that focuses on saving an American soldier? Have you ever been to the United States? Where did you learn about American customs? Do you believe in Christianity, and for how long? As far as I know, most Chinese do not have this belief, and even fewer know about Jehovah. Your socialist society loves your country, yet you wrote a story about an American soldier who loves America. Is this story based on a true story or purely fictional? All of this is very strange, and the strangest thing is that you are so young. Please answer me."

The atmosphere in the room suddenly became tense. This was clearly an overreach, and the guild staff member, Mike, hesitated but did not speak.

Chen Tiandu raised his eyebrows, which were as black as charcoal, and smiled throughout.

Robert Rodat? This name sounds familiar. Isn't he the original screenwriter of "Saving Private Ryan"? Could it be that Li Kui has met Li Gui? He immediately dismissed this thought.

He turned to the young lawyer, "Mr. Donny, do I have to answer all the questions from the film company?"

"It depends on your mood, sir. Since the script has not been signed yet, you are the sole owner of the script. After signing, the production company can request changes to the script," Donny smiled.

Robert immediately became angry, "What do you mean? Are you afraid to answer my questions? Or is the script not written by you?"

Chen Tiandu's smile faded, and he shook his finger, "Sir, you have the right to ask, and I have the right to choose whether to answer. If you suspect that my script is plagiarized, you can take legal action. If you can find a similar script from the Screenwriters Guild and sue me, then you win."

"As far as I know, Mr. Spielberg's new film plan was announced to the media before I even came to the United States. I am confused. I only signed a non-binding online agreement. If I don't sign now, how can they make the movie?"

Robert was stunned, wanting to get angry but held back, his face turning red, looking like he was constipated. The two people who came with him also looked at Chen Tiandu in surprise, not expecting him to be so assertive as a Chinese newcomer.

Chen Tiandu continued, "I am curious, what is your mindset and what is your position to question me so confidently? If you are representing DreamWorks, I am sorry, but I suddenly don't want to sell my hard-written script to you. Let's call off the deal, and I will cover the hotel expenses. If you are questioning me personally, I don't want to talk to you. Let me guess which position you will choose, the former or the latter?"

"You..." Robert stood there, as if deeply wronged, furious.

Chen Tiandu's face turned cold, "After waiting for so long, no one has come. It seems the big shots at DreamWorks are very busy today. Mr. Mike, I might still be jet-lagged, and I need to rest for a few days. I'm sorry for the trouble today. Let's reschedule?"

Mike, the staff member from the Screenwriters Guild, theoretically should be on Chen Tiandu's side, but this was just theory.

Mike frowned, "Mr. Chen, your behavior is not good. We agreed to sign today, and punctuality is a must. Punctuality is a quality a gentleman must have, isn't it? DreamWorks is a big company, and changing the schedule would be very troublesome, especially since you had a prior agreement."

"Ha~~"

Chen Tiandu laughed, "Mr. Donny, can I request the guild to replace the staff member?"

Donny looked at him in surprise and smiled, "Yes, sir. I am your lawyer, and if you need to protect your reputation, you can also come to me. As long as you have the money, I can win the case even if the defendant is the Screenwriters Guild or DreamWorks."

"You are a good lawyer, and we will work together again." Chen Tiandu shook his hand and put on his coat, walking out, "Money is power, power is order, and order is beauty. I like this place!"

Behind him, there were panicked shouts.

Chen Tiandu really left and went to the bank to handle some personal affairs.

He was given a rude welcome upon arrival, but the American approach was too crude, and he was not going to fall for it.

"It seems the road ahead will not be easy, and there are many places where money will be needed." A total of $168,000, almost all his savings.

This time, he came to the United States on a work visa, with a maximum stay of one year, but he had many things to do. If he could get a green card, it would be much more convenient. Many people have misconceptions about green cards; having one does not make you an American, it is just a permanent resident card. In recent years, there has been a wave of immigration in China, and the wealthy and powerful are all moving abroad, so a green card is still very valuable.

"Ah, one step at a time. If I go back like this, I might be laughed at by Kong Yiji."

He did not wander around Los Angeles; he had no interest. He spent his time writing and drawing in the hotel room, and time passed quickly.

Just as evening fell, Toby Hawkins called.

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