There is an enormous difference between loving movies and understanding how filmmakers actually make them. Andrew Bloomenthal has spent years exploring that difference from both sides of the table. Andrew is an entertainment writer, screenwriter, and independent filmmaker whose work has appeared in Script Magazine, Creative Screenwriting Magazine, CNBC.com, and Variety. His unusual career has allowed him to interview accomplished screenwriters and directors while continuing to develop his own projects, giving him a perspective few writers have: he gets to study how professional filmmakers think while simultaneously confronting the same creative challenges every screenwriter faces.
Andrew didn’t originally plan on becoming an entertainment journalist. His professional background was primarily in financial journalism, even though filmmaking and screenwriting were always his greater passions. A friend repeatedly encouraged him to combine those two worlds by interviewing screenwriters. Andrew resisted because he wanted to be the filmmaker being interviewed rather than the journalist asking questions. Eventually, he listened. Previous interviews with Oliver Stone and Michael Moore gave him enough relevant material to pursue an opportunity with Creative Screenwriting, and suddenly journalism became his doorway into conversations with the very filmmakers he admired. Instead of pulling him away from filmmaking, interviewing writers allowed him to understand their struggles, victories, working habits, and creative processes at a much deeper level.
One of Andrew’s strongest lessons is the importance of treating every professional opportunity seriously, regardless of its size. When he started receiving entertainment-writing assignments, he didn’t divide them into important projects and insignificant ones. He approached each article as though he were covering a major studio release because every piece published online became another example of his work. For screenwriters and filmmakers, the same principle applies. That tiny short film, low-budget commercial, first screenplay, or obscure assignment may become the work somebody uses to decide whether you’re ready for a larger opportunity. As Andrew explains, “every story is going to serve as a calling card.” The industry may not see all the work that went into your career, but it can certainly see what you put into the world.
His approach to interviewing filmmakers offers another valuable lesson: preparation separates professionals from everyone else. Andrew became frustrated watching directors and actors endure the same generic questions during press junkets. Rather than asking a filmmaker what it was like working with an actor for the hundredth time, he studies the movie carefully and searches for something specific. While interviewing Ralph Fiennes about The Invisible Woman, Andrew asked about the technical construction of a particular musical sequence—how live vocals, sound, and editing were coordinated. Fiennes immediately responded to the specificity of the question, and the conversation ultimately led to Andrew being invited to conduct a one-on-one interview. The takeaway extends far beyond journalism. Whether you’re pitching a producer, meeting a director, interviewing for a crew position, or approaching a potential collaborator, knowing their work demonstrates something no generic compliment can: you actually prepared.
That preparation doesn’t mean becoming rigid. Andrew always enters interviews with questions prepared, but he remains willing to abandon the plan when something more interesting appears. He describes the process as being ready to “zig and zag.” A filmmaker might answer a question in an unexpected way and suddenly reveal a far more interesting subject. Following that thread can produce something no predetermined list of questions ever could. Screenwriting operates similarly. Structure and preparation give writers direction, but stories sometimes reveal possibilities that weren’t obvious during outlining. The skill isn’t blindly obeying the plan. It’s knowing the plan well enough that you can recognize when departing from it makes the work better.
Andrew’s journalism background also shaped one of his most useful principles for screenwriters: economy of words. Whether writing an article, interview, screenplay, or story, he believes the material must remain concise and interesting. Anything unnecessary should be removed. Repetitive words weaken rhythm. Clichés make writing feel generic. Every sentence deserves attention. Screenwriters should recognize the connection immediately because screenplays are among the most economical forms of storytelling. Page space matters. Dialogue matters. Description matters. A screenplay doesn’t reward writers for demonstrating how many words they know; it rewards them for choosing the right ones. Andrew’s advice is simple: care enough about the writing to make deliberate choices.
Deadlines are another area where Andrew’s professional journalism experience translates directly into screenwriting. He says he thrives under deadlines and considers himself almost “allergic” to missing them. Professional assignments make accountability unavoidable, but personal screenplays are more dangerous because nobody may be waiting for them. Andrew acknowledges that writers working on their own projects need to become the person cracking the whip. Without an external editor or producer demanding delivery, filmmakers must manufacture their own discipline. A screenplay that remains perpetually unfinished can’t attract an actor, director, producer, investor, or audience. Eventually, the writer has to declare that the work will be completed and hold themselves accountable.
Perhaps the most exciting part of Andrew’s story arrives when the conversation shifts from discussing other filmmakers to making his own movie. At the time of the interview, he was preparing to shoot a roughly fifteen-minute musical short based on a play that had stayed with him for years. The actors had been cast. Four songs had been recorded. Vocal tracks were prepared for playback. Locations were being scouted, props assembled, and shots planned. Andrew describes the process with obvious excitement because filmmaking suddenly transforms writing from an isolated activity into collaboration. A story that previously existed in someone’s imagination begins requiring actors, musicians, locations, equipment, schedules, and dozens of creative decisions.
That transition may be the most important filmmaking lesson in the entire conversation. Writers can spend years wondering whether they’re qualified to direct something, produce something, or finally turn a screenplay into a finished film. Andrew argues that much of that hesitation comes from doubt rather than an actual lack of permission. Once other collaborators become involved, the project begins developing an energy that doesn’t exist when you’re alone with a keyboard. At some point, preparation has done its job. The screenplay exists. The actors are ready. The locations are found. The shots are planned. And the only thing left is the moment every filmmaker eventually has to face: calling action.
