Twenty-plus years ago when I was at N.Y.U., veteran screenwriter Larry Marcus (The Stuntman) told me that if you have a great script it may take a week, a year, or even ten years, but if you've written something of undeniable quality, someone in the Industry will find it.

I was a brash young writer at the time (ya think?), and nice as Larry was, I remember thinking, "That's bullshit." But what Larry said turned out to be true, and I've seen the same dynamic play out with my friends and myself many times as we've pursued our careers over the years.

Why? Because contrary to prevailing wisdom, there simply aren't that many great scripts out there.

It's straight-up supply and demand. The very best scripts are immediately recognizable by even the most cynical, hard-boiled professional. And if they feel something real during the read, they can bet their asses their peers -- other execs, producers, studios -- felt something too. That's how bidding wars begin. Nothing validates a project like another producer being willing to put their own money into it.

Great scripts leap off the page, grab the reader by the throat, ignite the deep passion within producers, directors and studios which fuels spending three, four, five years of their lives and tens of millions of dollars to see that the movie version gets made. Despite the urban legend and dog-eared sob story recounted at every unsold writer's pity party, there are not a ton of great screenplays laying around unwanted and ignored by Hollywood. There is no X-Files-style conspiracy against quality material. Not only is this town not threatened by it, it outright embraces it. Give 'em twice as many projects with legit commercial potential, they'll buy twice as many. There is an infinite number of winning scripts they are eager and willing to buy.

Take a beat and eyeball this from the Industry side. The better script a company starts with, the better talent (stars, directors) they can attract, the bigger budget they can get, the better movie they can produce, which, in turn, gives them the best odds at having a box office hit and making a king's ransom. And money -- cold, hard, seductive cash -- is what makes the film biz go 'round in the first place. On this point, you'll find little debate.

Huge benefits await agents, execs, et al. who discover these platinum needles in the Hollywood haystack. A junior exec bringing their company a great script puts themselves in the mix, sees their stock jump through the ceiling. Baby managers or agents who score get fast-tracked, become perceived as a rising stars, young guns to keep an eye on. If there's a splashy sale alongside it, the same writer may become this rep's first real client, putting them both on the big board Industry-wide. The standard representation fee is 10% -- that's $100,000 on a million dollar sale. So as you see, there's plenty of motivation, both professionally and monetarily, for everyone involved to help get a great script where it's going.

Alas, a few tinkerers and weekend warriors pull something out of their asses, getting lucky now and then. Some thirteen year-old Malibu girl sells her talking carrot movie for a million bucks, and yeah, it hurts like a hollow-point to the heart of any serious scribe. Blind luck is a bitch, right? But like it or not, that's part of the Biz, too.

(I always flash on that hilarious exchange in Barfly where the wife-beater next door accidently gets stabbed -- "Nothing but dumb luck," he says. "Yeah," answers Mickey Rourke as Hank. "But that counts too.")

But for those of you interested in making a career of it, of becoming an employed professional with health and dental, able to consider buying a home, starting a family or traveling the world -- all while continuing to grow creatively -- freak one-offs like this are silly distractions. Treat 'em as such and laugh 'em off. You are not in competition with the 'tweener writing The Talking Carrot Trilogies. Never were. Different targets entirely. However lucrative it seems short-term, they're playing hopscotch and you're gunning for the Stanley Cup. Never the twain shall meet.

My friends, the real key for any aspiring writer, the simple fact that supersedes all the other bizarre, random bullshit involved along the way is this --

"It only takes one buyer."

My first agent told me that during Clinton's first term, and it's every bit as true today. You can hear a thousand "No's", have a million doors slammed in your face, online and in person, but just one simple, glorious "Yes" validates everything. EVERYTHING. Your script. Your sacrifice. Your dream. You.

As a writer, I've always found real strength and inspiration in that. You don't have to conquer Hollywood, you just need to find that one buyer out there who gets it. The one player willing to pull the trigger based on your words and ideas and the vision you've so carefully constructed with them. The bright producer or executive that, despite being a total stranger you have yet to meet, reads your pages and sees the same movie you do.

That's the good news, fellas. The silver lining in all of this.

For screenwriters, one "yes" can obliterate a lifetime of "no's".