The Best Lessons From Roger Corman

In case you don’t know who he is, Roger Corman wasn't a household name, but he was a huge under-the-radar influence in Hollywood. His passing is a big reminder of the lessons he passed on to so many names and talents we know by heart.

Chances are, if you’ve seen one of his movies (or one made through one of his studios), it was on late night cable when you were suffering from insomnia, stress, or recovering from a night out at the bars. It was one of those 1970s or 1980s cheaply made, hack-written, melodramatically acted sci fi or fantasy flicks that ranged from “uncomfortably bad” or “why am I watching this?” to “so bad, it’s good” or “guilty pleasure.” For Corman, making movies wasn’t always about the artistic statement, it was learning the craft of making them. As he once said in an interview:

“I don't know if I would say I'm an artist…I would say that I'm a craftsman. I attempt to ply my trade in the best possible way. If occasionally something transcends the craft, then that's wonderful.”

In my personal work, I tend to use my blog or articles like this one as a "test bed" for ideas and style, where what I learn from writing it is sometimes more important than the recognition or statement I'm conveying. Oddly enough, other writers have reached out to me with their unsolicited, sometimes aloof, and not-always-constructive criticism, pointing out grammatical mistakes or directions I should’ve tried while not realizing that 1) I wasn’t necessarily aiming for perfection, and 2) karma was probably getting me back for my own grammar nazi habits with other people’s writing.

And he was the mentor to so many names at the top of the entertainment world – Coppola, Ron Howard, Scorsese, Demme, James Cameron. Say what you will, Corman knew what he had and how to shepherd them along to make their own marks in the entertainment community.

As a long time geek, one of my personal favorites was the Corman-produced Battle Beyond the Stars – a schlocky but entertaining (I admit, I watch it every now and then for fun) sci fi remake of The Magnificent Seven. It has the reputation of being one of James Cameron’s big breaks in Hollywood, where he famously built a spaceship model with certain…anatomical features…because he figured it having a female computer / AI voice should reflect its visual design.

What I admire most about Corman is he promoted 1) mentoring potential talent regardless of race or gender, and 2) figuring out how to work with what you got. His movies were notorious for their shoestring budgets, tight production schedules, and demanding pressure. Many big name directors of today can relay experiences of sitting in Corman’s office, begging for more time or money (or both), and Corman telling them with his warm smile and soft voice, that the situation simply “is what it is” and to deal with it. That may sound horrible out of context, but it’s a vital lesson in the most useful and profound way.

In a sense, proposal management isn't much different at times. Whether it’s working for a small business with limited resources trying to get a foot in the door against bigger competitors, turning straw (i.e., substandard content) into gold (i.e., a winning proposal), or finding a brilliant if not ridiculous way of hammering a square peg of corporate experience into a client’s round hole of a requirement, proposal management is often a case of working with what’s on hand. This frequently involves short time frames, huge response requirements, complicated team dynamics, and careening between immovable contracting officers and expecting-the-impossible executives (or is that the other way around?).

Not to mention, a proposal team can include a rogues gallery of personalities - and God knows I've worked with a few that tested my emotional limits and professional demeanor. Whether they're a prima donna SME, a reviewer tearing into a proposal with ruthless abandon, or an inexperienced writer trying to put a few words together in the hope that they make sense, I'll work with anyone as long as they share the goal and producing the best content possible (even if I'm fantasizing about their doom when they're not paying attention).

And just like a Corman movie that probably needed a few more script revisions, time with the editors, or actors with better training, when the deadline arrives, that proposal simply “is what it is” and you find a way to make it work (i.e., be compliant and compelling) and submit it. Even if it doesn't win, the lessons learned can always be applied to the next one.