Everybody says Ghosts on the Red would provide great material for film maker Ben Affleck.

I agree!

Although born in California, he was raised in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and he gravitates towards Cambridge/Boston stories, like his Good Will Hunting that he made with his pal Matt Damon, and his gritty crime caper Our Town… as is Ghosts on the Red Line which describes strange encounters on Cambridge/Boston subway trains … made to order for Ben’s brand of Boston-flavored movie magic.

At book signings, people ask, “When’s the movie coming out?”

“Hard as it is to believe,” I say, while scrawling my name and good wishes on the title page of their newly purchased book, “Ben Affleck’s people have not yet contacted my people.”

“His loss,” they say.

That was then. 

But now, with his Boston Subway Ghosts about to be released in theatres, followed by streaming on Amazon Prime, Ben has greenlit my revealing to the world how our venture in movie land came to be. He’s still understandably allergic to media glare, that hasn’t changed, but when it comes to newly-released movies, publicity is publicity!

“Tell your story,” he said. “Nothing off the table, no need for me to review, I trust you.”

“What about the NDA?”

“I’m hereby releasing you.  I’ll let them know.”

—

Everything started with an email from Ben’s mom Chris, who as of this writing still lives in Cambridge.

“Hi Mr. Shapiro, my name is Chris Affleck. I really enjoyed your Ghosts on the Red Line. It’s wonderfully told, and it would make a great movie and I’d like to tell my sons Ben and Casey about it. Should I go ahead? Has it been optioned to someone else? Yours, Chris.”

I’d heard of Chris Affleck, of course, a former school teacher who’s a well-known activist for social causes and not shy about commenting on the recent disastrous turn in our national politics. But given all the scams out there, you never know, so initially I was suspicious.

I scanned the sender address on her email which did appear to be legitimate, the usual first initial plus surname using one of the main email platforms (which I’m not revealing here).

Then I searched for emails sent by “Chris Affleck” to local area publications. I found several, and they had the same sender email address.

So I replied, figuring I’d bail if things got hinky.

“Dear Chris, thank you very much for your note. The good news, or bad, depending on your perspective, is that Ghosts on the Red Line has not yet been optioned. Please do go ahead with Ben and Casey. I hope they enjoy it as well and I’ll look forward to hearing from either of them, or both, however they’d like to proceed. Best, Peter.”

She replied immediately, “Will do!”

Weeks passed, then months. I checked my email constantly, every day, every hour, to be honest, including the spam folder just in case. Not a word. More than once I was about to follow-up with Chris, ask how things were going, what she’d heard from her famous sons. Then I thought, no, wait, stay cool. Although I did send her a holiday greeting at Christmas, “All the best for the holidays and New Year!”

No reply.

Where I live west of Boston, throughout the frigid winter months the ice on my driveway is indestructible, grey like granite and just as hard, but finally in March when I whack it with a hoe it breaks into chunks, and there’s actual wet underneath, and it doesn’t reappear next morning.

So it was metaphorically apt that in mid-March I received an email from Suzi Brzenzski, Special Production Assistant at Artists Equity, Ben and Matt’s production company.

“Hi, Peter! Suzi Brzenzski here! I work for Ben and his team at Artists Equity. Ben loves! loves! loves! your Ghosts on the Red Line!  And I do too! Ben is so excited to translate your vision to the screen! I’ll send our book option paperwork to your people for their review … please LMK names & addresses! But first, and I’m sorry but this is an absolute must for Ben, we need you to sign an NDA, copy attached.  No probs if you have questions, totally understand, but Ben is insistent on the language.  Hope that’s OK.  All best! Suzi!”

Suzi’s email … it was life-altering, exhilarating, and exhausting.  I could scarcely contain myself, pacing through my house, unable to sit for more than a minute.  Like winning a lottery, but better, because it meant recognition, and affirmation, and, let’s admit, if this really happened it would jolt the sales and readership not only of Ghosts on the Red Line but also of my other novels, each having their own cinematic potential, so doors were opening!  And what an adventure, to join in making an actual movie, to meet and mingle with actors and celebrities that I’d read about and seen in movies and on TV, including Ben Affleck and maybe Casey, and Matt, and who knows who else, to experience what it was really like in their world! Studio grounds! Movie sets! LA mansions with infinity pools! Plus the income, let’s face it, would be nice.

But I couldn’t utter the slightest peep about it.  According to the NDA that Suzi provided for my signature, I could tell no-one anything about the project, nor about any dealings I had with Ben Affleck or anyone else who was involved, nor could I share any observations I might have about him, either directly or indirectly in response to any questions, via any form of communications whatsoever. Nothing, nada, full stop. Violating the NDA would terminate the project and expose me to legal action for damages to recover Equity Artists’ investment plus opportunity costs, and to compensate for harm to reputations of Ben Affleck and others involved.

I emailed Suzi. “So glad that Ben (and you) enjoyed Ghosts on the Red Line and are keen to transform my story into a movie!  Concerning the NDA, I want my lawyer to take a look at it if that’s OK with you.  Obviously that would reveal to him that we are about to embark on this project but I don’t see how that can be avoided.”

She replied that having my lawyer review the NDA would be fine, so long as he also signed one.

My lawyer friend Woody McLean mostly drafts wills and handles probate, and I was pretty sure he had no experience with Hollywood legalese, but I trusted that he could read between the lines as only lawyers can.

Given the sensitivities, I requested a meeting with Woody to discuss everything in person.  We met in his office on the second floor of a small professional services building on a side street in our town center.  He was stocky and his shirt wasn’t entirely tucked and his hair looked like he’d been in a windstorm, in other words he was disheveled as usual.  Which led people to overlook that he was sharp, and careful, and didn’t miss much.

“I’m going to tell you something that you can’t tell anyone about,” I said. “You have to promise that it will remain just between us, and also sign an NDA.”

“You’ve got my interest,” Woody said.  He drew his finger across his lips. “Zipped!”

I told him my big news.

“Wow!”

“Yeah,” I said. “Wow!”

After scanning the NDA draft, he said, “Is there any reason you’d want to violate this?”

“No.”

“Then I see no problem signing it.”

“There’s more paperwork coming, about optioning the book.”

“Not my specialty,” Woody said.  “I took a course on entertainment law at law school. It’s complicated. I’ll ask around, find someone for you who knows this stuff.”

“I want you to do it.  Keep the circle small.  Last thing I need is a leak, then paparazzi camped outside my house waiting for Ben Affleck to turn up, and the whole thing imploding.”

“Are you sure? It would cost you if I miss something in the fine print.”

I told him I’d take that risk.

“Fine, I’ll research what’s involved in optioning books for movies and TV.”

“It’s not like there’s a bidding war for my book.  I’ll accept whatever they offer.”

“Well, my first advice to you as your lawyer is, don’t be too hasty.  You’re dealing with Hollywood, not Mother Teresa.”

“Actually with Ben Affleck, via his mom Chris.”

“Even so, you don’t want to be taken for granted.  You want him to respect you in the morning.”

“Like a blushing maiden!”

Woody laughed. “Former maiden!”

Then, “But, still, think about it, Peter, your book a Ben Affleck movie, I mean, like, holy shit!”

When we met, again in his office, to review the book option paperwork, Woody said that in addition to checking online sources, he’d interrogated an entertainment lawyer he knew while treating her to lunch at the Harvard Club in Boston.

“She was very curious,” Woody said. “Kept asking what the project was about, who was involved, would it be anyone she knew. I had to beat her off with a fork! I told her my questions were hypothetical, for a client who thought he might someday have a book he could sell, which is sort of true, or almost true.”

“Not a total lie.”

“She’s definitely suspicious. I’ll keep an eye out for her in case she comes around snooping.”

First of all, the option proposal for Ghosts on the Red Line was from Artists Equity, not Ben Affleck personally.  I’d get an up-front payment for their exclusive rights to shop the book for twelve months, not huge amount, $5000, but nice to have.  If the project were funded during that time, they would purchase all audiovisual rights – film, TV, streaming – for 2% of the total production budget, up to a cap of $100,000, plus a bonus of 2% of the film’s net profit.  I would get a writer’s credit in the film’s main title, “Based on the novel Ghosts on the Red Line by Peter David Shapiro.”  They could assign their rights to other producers or financiers, as required to sell the project.  Before they completed the purchase, I would have to confirm that currently I owned all rights to Ghosts on the Red Line and would indemnify Artists Equity if that turned out to be untrue.  Also they wanted a right of first refusal on a potential future option for my second novel The Trail of Money, which like Ghosts on the Red Line features Harry West as a main protagonist.

“Looks good to me,” I told Woody.

“Yeah, well, I have some suggestions,” he said. “First, Hollywood is famous for seldom reporting net profits even from hit movies so they don’t have to pay their investors.  You should ask for a percentage of the gross, like, half of one percent, which means you’ll at least get something, and potentially a lot.  Also you should explicitly exclude from this agreement the rights for video games and stage productions, and for any merchandise that might come out of the project.  And I’d stick in a request for an Executive Producer credit, along with writer’s credit.”

“What if they refuse to make any changes?  I don’t want to lose this.”

“They’ll negotiate,” Woody said. “Don’t worry.”

I emailed Suzi that my lawyer suggested a few changes and attached a marked-up copy of their proposal.

She replied, “We’ll get back to you.”

In the end, after a couple of weeks of emails back and forth, they accepted Woody’s changes with several adjustments – to cap royalty payments at the greater of either one half of one percent of gross or $400,000, and to include video games among their audiovisual rights.

I signed the agreement as modified, and returned it to Suzi with a question, “What’s next?”

“Wait for Ben to sell the project.  Fingers crossed!”

It didn’t take a year. 

Just two months later, I heard from Suzi via email: “Ben has a partner! Amazon MGM Studios!  Purchase docs for Ghosts on the Red Line being drawn up. Will send soon! Plus purchase cheque! Congratulations!!!!! XOXO Suzi”

That same day, I received an email from Ben Affleck, my first direct contact from him, “Let’s get together.”

…To Be Continued