“Getting to Know You”: My UCLA Students and Me

This week I begin, onceagain, teaching my advanced screenwriting rewrite course through UCLAExtension’s Writers’ Program. I invented this course a decade ago, putting touse the story skills I honed in my Roger Corman days. The course is taughtentirely online: I communicate with my 12 carefully selected students solelythrough the written word. Do you think, since we don’t meet in person, thatthey lose out on my up-close-and-personal attention? Think again!

 Because this course, likemany offered through UCLA Extension, unfolds online, I interact with studentsfrom all over the world. Their work often reflects cultures far different frommy own, and introduces me to corners of the globe I would otherwise knownothing about. There’s something unique about encountering a sex scene—well, anear-sex scene—featuring a Catholic priest on a mission to Africa, as writtenby a Catholic priest currently back home in Dublin. I’ve had students fromChina, several from Australia, and a number from India. Some have been trainedfilmmakers who are looking to polish material they can eventually direct. Inone case, several years after a class was over, I enjoyed discovering what anIndian student’s script looked like when blown up on the big screen: it wasabout (yup!) an aspiring filmmaker from India who faces challenges galore whenhe comes to L.A. to attend film school. In no uncertain terms, lived experiencewas part of the script’s strength.  Another Indian filmmaker, who had already wona prize for his short film at the prestigious Venice Film Festival, took myclass several times, struggling to expand his drama about Tibetan refugees inDharamshala into a full-length feature. I can’t wait to see what becomes ofthis powerful project.

 As you can tell, I like tofollow my students’ progress, when I can. Of course, some students apply for mycourse mostly to challenge themselves, without serious hopes of starting a newcareer. A few are determined to put on screen some of the traumas they’ve facedin their own lives: this is a tricky business, because art requires a certaindistance from one’s personal woes. But using life as the source of art can alsomake it memorable. Next time I’m in Ojai, California, I plan to go to the locallibrary and take a gander at a certain mosaic armchair. The chair, made anddonated by a prominent local family, reflects a tragic mother-and-sons storytold, with great poignance, in the script of a student who lived it.

 Happily, my students tend tobe interesting people doing remarkable things. Just days ago I checked in on aformer student, originally from Texas, who now makes his home in Taipei. Hisscripts (I’ve read several) lean on his longtime experience working at localradio stations. I’m also in touch with an Hungarian who, when not writingcharmingly eccentric screenplays, runs an eccentric café outside Budapest. Andthis past weekend I grooved to the sounds of a former student who, aside fromwinning a number of screenplay competitions, also performs around town as partof a very cool jazz and pop trio known as Guys & Doll.

 Ah, but you’re probablywondering if any of my students have made the big time. Some, over the years,have worked hard and found their own niche in the film industry. I’ve got tomention with great pride Shiwani Srivastava, whose  Wedding Season, was a Netflix hit in2022. When I first encountered this romantic comedy with its Southeast Asiantwist, I knew Shiwani had what it takes. And now – onward and upward! 

 Dedicated to DominiqueMerrill, who knows as well as I do that (asOscar Hammerstein once put it) when you become a teacher, by your pupilsyou’ll be taught.