100 Books Like How to Manage Your Agent

I read this book years ago, and it has become such a part of my DNA that I barely remember not knowing the ideas it introduces. A lot of screenwriting books focus on structure and premise, trying to decide what kind of event should happen by which page. This book gave me a freer, more spiritual way to think about and structure stories.

Vogler’s book—heavily influenced by Joseph Campbell’s Hero with a Thousand Faces—showed me how to think of stories as mythical journeys, almost Jungian in their symbolism. How even the most modern or intimate story can be seen as a warrior’s journey into an unknown land; How stories can benefit from being a few degrees closer to dreams or the unconscious.

I've been an avid fan of the book ever since, and can barely think of storytelling separately from the ideas in it. 

Dedicated to two essentials that make me jump up and salute: how to write by getting in touch with your unconscious and an amazing way to outline. That's all. Two ideas. But they're two of the most important concepts to master to become a writer who gets paid. 

This book excites me because I know how much aspiring writers need it. From the year I first read it until I left university teaching, I required it in every writing class in my department. If, for decades I made students read it, you can bet I'm delighted for you to put it on your reading list.

I recently saw a clip of Rick Rubin talking about art and AI. To paraphrase, he explains that he’s interested in artists because of their point of view. AI has no point of view. I watched him speak so eloquently (and so simply) about something I have tried to put words to for months. 

Creativity is akin to magic. It’s what sparks joy. It’s what makes you remember the details you do. What makes creativity powerful isn’t polish, but presence. Part of that story is the ability to notice, to feel, to pay attention to what most people rush past and capture it, if only for a moment. 

In The Creative Act, Rick Rubin distills that instinct into a way of being. He reminds us that creativity is a birthright. A way of moving through the world with sensitivity and curiosity. Rubin’s words are art in and of themselves.… show more.

Save the Cat is nuts and bolts, but Strikes Back! is spiritual lightning. After STC, Blake went around the world, visiting writer's groups inspired by his book. Their input changed him and helped me. I thank them all! My copy is crazy highlighted, written in, and well-worn. Blake learned, and so did I, SO much about writing and its psychology, like how an "independent spirit" can wreck positive mojo or how clinging to a bad idea is because I was afraid I couldn't think of a better one. 

Like STC, it's accessible, totally understandable, and wonderfully helpful, but it's... way deeper. I came away from this book with a more profound understanding of my particular writing (and teaching) process. Thank you, Blake.

When I read this book, I was relieved—at long last, a book that underscored the behind-the-scenes contributions of working women in the 1930s and 1940s. J.E. Smyth’s fascinating study brings to light new dimensions to screen legends Bette Davis, Katharine Hepburn, and fashion designer Edith Head, but also women less known to the greater public—the intrepid editors like Barbara McLean and Margaret Booth, three-time Screenwriter Guild president Mary J. McCall, and producers like Joan Harrison and Virginia Van Upp.

I like how this book provides a counter-history to the male-dominated narratives of Hollywood. Smyth shows that women found other ways outside of directing to leave their mark on Hollywood in the twentieth century.

This is a memoir about being a writer—and failing. With scholarly rigor and tenderhearted sympathy, Specktor excavates the lives of artists forgotten (Carol Eastman, Eleanor Perry), underappreciated (Thomas McGuane, Hal Ashby), and notorious (Warren Zevon, Michael Cimino), while always circling back to his own benighted Hollywood upbringing, complete with a lovely tribute to his mother, a failed screenwriter. This is an angry, sad, but always somehow joyful book about not hitting it big, and I've never read anything quite like it.

Ted Sennett is one of the most prolific and widely-read writers about Hollywood and this book on 1939 is one of his very best works. It is filled (one might even say, stuffed) with behind-the-scenes stories. The writing is sometimes critical and analytical rather than gushing as in some of Sennett's many coffee table books. He concentrates on only seventeen 1939 movies so one doesn't get a full picture of that amazing year of movies. It's good to see some lesser-known classics like Midnight and Angels Have Wings included in the seventeen.

Possibly my favorite book ever (only time will tell) this novel is a fever dream of Ike “Vikar” Jerome’s journey into Hollywood starting in 1969 and expanding over a decade.

With a tattoo of Montgomery Clift and Elizabeth Taylor from A Place in the Sun on his bald head, this novel reads like Forrest Gump in the way that Vikar shows up at historical moments in Hollywood’s golden age, making friends with thinly veiled Hollywood titans as they get their start in the film industry. 

Bukowski didn't thieve, solve crimes, or use high-tech. In fact, he worked hard and was poor and isolated most of his life. But he lived in the fringe of the noir world, and beat on his machines—manual typewriters, then an IBM Selectric, and finally, with some fame and money, a computer. He was South of his No North, real and genuine for so long that when Hollywood knocked, he was ready for them. This book is his first-hand account of the dumb ego and stupid money that goes into making a movie. Hilarious and dark at the same time. A poet's novel.

One of my favorite novels of any length, Nathanael West’s short 1939 classic is at the very least the most disturbing portrait of Golden Age Hollywood and its hangers-on ever written—hideous, poignant, horribly funny.

West himself wrote scripts for B-movies in the thirties. His death at thirty-three in a car crash was perhaps, in its awful and infuriating ridiculousness, fitting. And it was the day after F. Scott Fitzgerald died.