Thinking about writing the next Spider-Man movie? (Think again.)

Many years ago, a friend of mine — who proudly considered himself a screenwriter despite never actually writing anything — decided he was going to write a James Bond script. Not spec a Bond script. Not imagine a Bond script. No, no — he was going to write one and send it straight to the producers. 

But first, he figured he’d give them a heads up. You know…whet their appetite. Let them prepare themselves for the cinematic brilliance about to descend upon them. 

So off went his letter. 

A few weeks later, he received a very short, very unfriendly reply informing him that if he wrote the script and sent it — or if he even thought about sending it around town — he would be sued into a fine powder. 

And that was the end of his Bond career. 

So, boys and girls, what have we learned? 

We’ve learned that you do not write for an established film franchise. You don’t write James Bond or Indiana Jones or Iron Man or Spider Man or Batman or any other character whose face is already on lunchboxes. The people who make those movies only hire top tier writers — the ones with résumés, awards, and possibly their own parking spaces on the lot. (And even then, half the time the script still gets rewritten by twelve other people.) 

Agents and producers want new writers to write original material — original stories, original characters, original dialogue. They want to know what you sound like, not what your version of a 60-year-old British spy sounds like. 

Sell a few scripts that carry your voice and only your voice, and then — maybe — you’ll be in the running to write the next Bond flick. 

But please…no letters.

The Doldrums...

Creativity has been my compass for as long as I can remember. My mom once wrote in my baby book that I was “a little comedian,” and decades later, I’m still chasing stories, shaping scenes, and finding ways to make people laugh or lean in. It’s not just what I do — it’s who I am.

There’s always a project in motion: a screenplay draft, a novel chapter, a blog or Substack post, or a street photography series (you can see some of my shots on Instagram @jimvinespresents). Creativity is my constant companion, the wind in my sails.

But every so often, the wind dies. The passion, the spark, the drive — gone. I drift into the doldrums, watching YouTube videos, doing nothing that looks remotely “productive.”

And here’s the truth: that pause isn’t failure. It’s fuel. Those quiet stretches are the hidden engine of the creative life. They’re the moments when ideas ferment below the surface, when strength gathers invisibly. Creativity needs silence as much as it needs noise.

Then, almost without warning, the breeze returns. The sails snap taut. Suddenly I’m scribbling notes, hammering out script pages, or writing the very words you’re reading now. The doldrums pass, and the voyage continues.

So if you find yourself becalmed, don’t panic. Rest is not the enemy of creativity — it’s part of its rhythm. The stillness is what makes the storm of ideas possible. Step back, recharge, and trust the wind will rise again.

Find me on SUBSTACK!