Read Me A Nightmare

Don’t miss this raw and authentic interview with Chris Goldberg. He tells the honest truth about optioning IP for film and the current state of the industry. He’s rarely interviewed, so I am so grateful he’s chosen to share his story with us. Prefer to watch your interviews? See it on YouTube. Chris Goldberg is veteran in the film industry and is heavily involved the book-to-film world. He’s the founder and force behind Winterlight Pictures and is working on over 25 projects at places like A24, Netflix, Sony, Plan B, 87Eleven, and Lionsgate to name a few. He’s been been involved in huge hits like The Martian, and The Fault in Our Stars. Some of his projects currently in development include The Maid with Universal Pictures, and Biter staring Zöe Kravitz. Here is a notice in deadline.com about one of his projects which involves Patrick Hoffman’s The White Van. Black Label Media’s Molly Smith, Rachel Smith, Thad Luckinbill and Trent Luckinbill will produce alongside Chris Goldberg at Winterlight Pictures, who brought the project to Singer and Black Label Media, with Black Label also financing. Seth Spector will executive produce. Here are some of the highlights from the interview: AF: Can you tell people a bit about who you are? CG: You were one of the very first people I met on Substack when I started, so it’s really great to be here talking with you. I’m a producer and a writer. I started my career in New York as a literary scout, finding books to turn into movies for Fox. I did that for about ten years, reading constantly and reporting back to executives on what might work as film or television. After that, I moved to Los Angeles and worked as a development executive. About five years ago, I started my own production company, Winterlight Pictures, and at the same time I began writing again for the first time in about twenty years. Substack has been a completely unexpected experience for me. I didn’t go there with a big plan, but it’s turned into a creative home and a place where I’ve met people—like you—who share similar interests in storytelling, film, and the business behind it all. AF: What is Winterlight Pictures, and how does it fit into your work as both an executive and a creator? CG: Winterlight Pictures is my production company, and it really allows me to combine all the different parts of my background. When I was coming up in the industry, there was very much an attitude that being an executive and being a creative had to be separate. If you were a producer or development executive, you weren’t supposed to be a writer. For a long time, that separation shaped my life. I always wanted to write, but I was deeply immersed in developing other people’s work. Now, having my own company gives me the freedom to wear multiple hats. I can develop projects, produce them, and also create my own material. That balance works for me in a way that it never could when I was under a studio contract. AF: You’ve mentioned before that you stopped writing for a long time. Why did that happen? CG: When I was coming out of NYU, I was very focused on being a writer. I met director Whit Stillman when I was about twenty-one, and I asked him for advice. I told him I was about to take a job as an assistant and reader at Fox, and I asked whether he thought that was a good idea. “If you want to be a writer, go work at a gas station. Don’t take that job.” Whit’s advice to Chris His reasoning was that I’d be reading five-hundred-page books for studios every weekend, and the last thing I’d want to do afterward was sit down and write my own work. He was completely right. I took the job anyway, and I didn’t write again for almost twenty years. AF: So, should you have taken that job at the gas station? CG: I don’t regret it exactly, but I do think about it a lot. For twenty years, I worked with writers, read constantly, gave notes, developed scripts, and helped shepherd projects forward—but I didn’t write myself. When I finally came back to it five years ago, it felt like rediscovering a part of myself that I’d put away. At the same time, I gained an incredible education. I saw how projects really get made, how many drafts it takes, how notes shape a script, and how ideas evolve. So while I lost time as a writer, I gained perspective that I wouldn’t trade. AF: How did that background shape you as a writer once you returned to it? CG: My version of the “10,000 hours” was working at Fox. (Authorial note: Malcolm Gladwell famously said it takes 10,000 hours of practice to achieve true expertise.) Writing loglines, reading submissions, and getting immediate feedback from executives rewired how my brain works. You learn very quickly what makes an idea pop, what feels urgent, and what feels commercial. I also learned by watching writers revise. Seeing draft after draft, watching how notes land, and how stories change in response—that’s an education you can’t really get anywhere else. All of that informs how I write now, whether that’s short fiction or something intended for film or TV. AF: Do you ever wonder what kind of writer you might have been if you’d taken a different path? CG: All the time. I wonder what I would have written if I’d stayed raw and untrained, or if my taste would be different if I hadn’t spent years reading commercial thrillers and studio-driven material. I missed out on a lot of literary work during that time. But at the same time, this is the brain I have now. For better or worse, it’s shaped by the industry, by development, and by thinking about story through a cinematic lens. AF: Hollywood is a rarified circle, and hard to break into. Can you tell us about it? CG: It absolutely can be closed off. I was privileged enough to be able to intern unpaid and work low-paying assistant jobs while bartending. Not everyone can do that, and that creates a lack of economic diversity in the industry. It’s a real problem. That said, even people who’ve been in the business for decades don’t feel secure. The industry has been contracting—first the pandemic, then the strikes, now layoffs and uncertainty around streaming and AI. Even very established people feel under the gun. AF: You sold a short story to Netflix. Did that change things for you? CG: Not in the way people imagine. The story, Bunny Never Sleeps, was optioned and developed, but ultimately dropped during the strikes and internal changes at Netflix. That happens to about ninety-five percent of projects. It didn’t change my life financially, and it didn’t get made. But I got the rights back, and now it’s one of several projects I’m still exploring—possibly as a novel, or as a script I write myself. AF: Are short stories a pathway into film and TV? CG: There’s an active market in Hollywood for high-concept short fiction that most writers don’t realize exists. Studios and producers buy short stories all the time because they’re quick to read and easy to imagine as films. Publishing doesn’t really have that same market for commercial short fiction, which is why I ended up on Substack. I already had film interest in my stories, and Substack gave me a place to share them rather than letting them sit on my computer. AF: How hard is it to sell a script, especially without connections? CG: It’s extremely hard, especially in television. TV is very hierarchical—you usually work your way up through writers’ rooms. Features are slightly easier because it’s a one-time commitment rather than a multi-year relationship. There’s also a lot of scamming out there: submission fees, questionable festivals, and people promising access if you pay. Writers have to be very careful. AF: Can you explain the difference between a manager and an agent? CG: Agents work at large agencies and represent many clients. Managers tend to be more hands-on, take fewer clients, and help develop material. Managers can also be producers and help package projects. For writers trying to break in, I usually recommend starting with a manager rather than an agent. AF: How does someone actually find a manager? CG: Research and targeting. Look at projects similar to yours, see who represents those writers, and reach out thoughtfully. Personalized outreach matters. I still cold email people all the time, and it works when it’s smart and specific. (Authorial note: Chris suggests the best place to find a manager is by scrolling through Deadline deals.) AF: You’re currently developing a project based on the viral dating show The Button. What drew you to that? CG: My wife introduced me to it. It has massive pre-awareness—over a hundred million views—and a whole ecosystem of reaction content. Anyone under thirty knows what it is. I partnered with Cut.com and Gunpowder & Sky to explore adapting it as a scripted rom-com. My vision is a feature film that explores what happens behind the scenes and what chaos erupts when two people meet on a show like that. See a clip of The Button here! AF: What does the development process look like for something like that? CG: We create a deck, find a seasoned rom-com writer, develop the concept, get approval from the rights holders, and then take it out to studios. It’s a long process—often years. AF: Do you option IP with your own money? CG: No. I usually partner with companies or rights holders. Development is expensive, and the failure rate is high. Partnerships are the safest way to do it. AF: Any final advice for writers and filmmakers? CG: Do your homework, be strategic, and don’t assume people on the inside have it all figured out. Everyone is struggling in some way. There are paths in—short fiction is one of them—but it takes patience, persistence, and a lot of work. Want to find and follow Chris? Substack: Max Winter https://www.instagram.com/winterlightpictures This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers