Don’t You Dare Steal This Idea

Today's STOP THE INSANITY

Imagine you walk into a jewelry store. You see a brilliant diamond necklace. You love it. You have to have it.

But instead of buying it, you smash the display case, grab it, and run off.

That’s theft. Plain and simple. I think we can all agree.

Now imagine a Hollywood producer walks into a pitch meeting—and hears a brilliant original idea. He loves it. He has to have it.

But instead of buying it, he shrugs. “Thanks for coming in,” he says to the writer. “But your project’s not for us. Good luck to you.”

Then he turns around and makes a movie that’s almost identical.

Is that theft?

Apparently, it’s not.

It’s just called “show biz.”

For an industry built on telling great stories, storytellers don’t get much respect.

We get strung along. Gaslighted. Ignored. Lied to.

And that’s on a good day.

On a bad one, we’re outright stolen from.

And I speak from experience.

Idea theft in the entertainment industry is a tricky thing to prove. Mostly because, usually when it happens, it’s unintentional.

Usually.

In any given week, thousands of producers hear thousands of writers’ pitches. They take thousands of meetings. Read thousands of scripts.

With that many ideas floating around, there are bound to be some repeats—and plenty of innocent, creative “co-mingling.” A scene from a movie pitch heard on a Monday might stick in an executive’s mind, then unconsciously find its way into a TV development call on Friday.

I get that. That’s how the artistic process works. (I’m using that phrase loosely here.)

Similarities between projects aren’t just inevitable. Sometimes, they make it all the way to the screen.

The “twin film” phenomenon happens all the time. Look at Deep Impact and Armageddon, two big-budget asteroid flicks both released in 1998. Or Olympus Has Fallen and White House Down, two action movies about attacks on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue that each hit theaters in 2013. Or the pair of Pinocchio movies—one directed by Robert Zemeckis, the other by Guillermo del Toro—released in 2022. Or the biopics Elvis, also released that year, and Priscilla, which came out the next.

Coincidences like these are going to keep happening as long as films and TV series keep being made. Often, creative minds really do think alike.

But once in a while, creative minds can get lazy.

And thievish.

Here’s my proof.

Not long ago, my agents sent a thriller I’d written to a well-known producer to consider adapting into a movie.

He politely declined.

A few months later, they asked if I’d read an original screenplay he was developing to consider adapting it into a novel. It was an unusual request, and the logline sounded similar, but I agreed to take a look.

I hadn’t finished the first page when the déjà vu set in.

The opening scene felt eerily familiar. So did a chase sequence a few pages later. So did a major first act cliffhanger.

I kept reading. Maybe I was imagining things.

Then the script introduced some new characters.

With the exact same names as the ones in my novel.

Really.

I stopped reading. And called my agents.

Was this some kind of joke? Was it an honest mistake?

Or was it theft?

Did the producer really think I wouldn’t notice? Did he really think I’d want to turn this script into a novel—that I’d already published?

This was an extreme case. A rare one. A flagrant one.

I still don’t know exactly how it happened.

But I do know this kind of thing goes on. Too often. Especially to writers with less clout and success. Writers so desperate to land their big break, they keep their mouths shut—even when they’re getting ripped off.

Here’s my plea to all the producers and studio executives out there.

Hollywood is hard enough already. The least you can do is be ethical.

There are plenty of great ideas in the world. Go find your own.

And when you do?

Don’t poach them.

Pay for them.

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