After graduating from Boston University with a degree in English Literature, I got a job writing phone solicitation scripts for a marketing company. I'd sit in my cubicle and fantasize about working in film. Since I wasn't a filmmaker, feared the idea of acting, didn't know what production meant and didn't consider myself a writer, I decided to become a publicist. I had no idea what a publicist did and in fact had never met a publicist but at that point in my life, the word invoked cinema glamour.

With no clue as to how to get an industry job, I stumbled my way into the country's two best known, non-profit film organizations, the American Film Institute (AFI) and the UCLA Film and Television Archive. Both jobs were good fits. I already had a long-standing love of art house and unusual cinema and was a high school film nerd. I once convinced a 10th grade date to take me to see Pink Flamingos, decades before John Waters was a household name. He suggested that we remain "just friends" after the screening.

The AFI is where I learned the p.r. basics that built a foundation for my career so far. Here's a beginner's list:

1. Publicity is not glamorous.

2. Non-creative writing is a job requirement. Press releases, position papers and pitch letters, have to be churned out daily. Most related papers will be tweaked endlessly by clients.

3. A basic black suit or equivalent outfit is a necessity. The look is efficient but still stylish, non-threatening, with the slightest touch (but not too much) of authority. This uniform will scream "publicist" at all events. When necessary, the suit can render one invisible.

4. Money talks, so does bullsh**.

5. Obsequiousness, toward those who could affect one's ability to remain employed, is not a character defect. However, it is important not to fawn.

6. Do not cry after being verbally abused in public by an irrational control freak.

At the UCLA Film and Television Archive, I was the publicist for public film screenings, preservation programs and research divisions. The first two years I was at UCLA, the public film programs were directed by Geoff Gilmore (now head of Sundance). The Archive represented indie film at its most gritty and Gilmore understood the importance of public relations. With little of no advertising budget, a publicist's work literally helps to bring customers into the theater. Forget about the American independents. Pitching mainstream journalists on a feature about new North Vietnamese cinema requires persistence unequaled on the rest of the playing field.

At the Archive, I built on my p.r. foundation with the following:

1. The relationship between a publicist and a publicist's phones is sacred. When possible, carry on long conversations. Time spent chatting and learning the likes and dislikes of editors and writers, provides valuable information for pitching. Also, time spent talking with other publicists and entertainment related people, keeps one in the potential new job loop.

2. Do not confuse persistence with pain in the ass. Push media people too much and one will meet a brick wall, push too little and one will be forgotten.

3. Be prepared before picking up the phone, as anything less is a time waster.

4. Ignore insults from people who think publicists are less than hot vomit sucked through a dirty sock. I've been asked, "How can you stand being a publicist?" as well as the much heard, back-handed compliment, "I could never do your job."

5. Refuse to be obsequious, since it's almost impossible to get fired from a non-profit.

6. Continue to work as if nothing has happened, after taking on-going verbal abuse from an irrational, incompetent and emotionally unstable control freak.

A few years later, a film critic recommended me for a senior publicist position, which would soon turn into a publicity director's position at Dennis Davidson Associates (DDA), an international entertainment p.r. agency. Until a recent downsizing, DDA had a well-respected domestic department where I learned the following:

1. Publicist is a polite word for sales person. It does not matter if one likes the product, one is employed to sell the product.

2. Strategy is everything. The marketplace is flooded with films. Map out a plan to ensure the product stands out, even if the campaign is only one week long.

3. The client is rarely happy. One can do an exemplary job, manage to place stories everywhere, have the name of the film on everyone's lips, launch a successful Academy campaign and still receive a laundry list of grievances, anxious bitching and countless snippy e-mails.

4. A publicist is only as valued as the last success.

5. The publicist is always to blame. It does not matter if one had no part in the error; the elephant will still poop on the publicist's desk. Only one of two things can rectify the situation, either take it on the chin or pass the buck. By choosing to pass the buck, one must be comfortable with fabrication. Claiming a crucial conversation never took place is a good lie. It's been used on me on several occasions. Unfortunately for me, it was the client who was doing the fabricating.

6. The Sundance Film Festival is publicists' hell. The clients, mostly first-time filmmakers, are nervous, the press is inundated, the competition between publicists is fierce, the weather is lousy, the work is non-stop and cell phones, a professional life-line in Park City, are often not working. Count on utter humiliation at least once a day. Expect to chase journalists up and down snowy streets, accost them in the hospitality suite and follow then into parties. Depend on having a complete and total meltdown by the end of the festival.

7. The bane of the film publicist is the personal publicist (although there are notable exceptions to this rule). Understand that many personal publicists confuse themselves with their clients. Accept that the personal publicist will go out of his/her way to deny access, blame the film publicist for any mistakes and claim all responsibility for work that is done on behalf of the talent.

8. Film premieres are not glamorous. With big talent, there's the problem of managing a large press line, personal publicists and the paparazzi. With no talent there's the problem of begging people to show.

9. Premiere parties are not glamorous. Imagine spending hours outside in the freezing cold telling adults in expensive clothes that they can't come in unless their name is on the list. Imagine said adults spewing bile or groveling pathetically. Imagine having to remain pleasant to these desperate sycophants because they actually may be friends with the producer.

10. 99.9% of famous people are not impressive in person. I often wonder if I'm lowering my standards for behavior and intelligence when I am impressed.

11. Obsequiousness is useful only when it's crucial to maintaining good relations with a difficult client.

12. Remembering to breathe is essential. It helps when decelerating abuse of any kind by a wide diversity of control freaks.

It may sound like I hate film p.r. and sometimes I do. The work is demanding and often thankless. However, the job transforms with each new film. It's rarely boring. Also, many of the journalists, screen writers, directors and, on occasion, forward thinking producers I've worked with, have a true passion for the medium and as an unreconstructed film nerd, this gives me a great deal of pleasure.

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