One of my first gigs as a reviewer was writing about film and books for the sadly now-defunct website The Cabinet of Dr. Casey, a hub for horror fans that was more enthusiastic than slick and more fun than insightful. Unfortunately, crap tends to permeate the horror genre more than most, and I logged a lot of hours watching screeners of Z-grade scare flicks and reading would-be creepfests that barely raised a hackle. The worst thing I ever read for Dr. Casey (and that’s saying a lot) was an ineptly written, self-published novel called The Apostate, about an up-and-coming city in the New Mexico desert being slowly brought under the sway of the Devil by means of the tainted biscotti being sold in Satan’s chain of evil bakeries. I kid you not.

We live in a truly amazing time, where advances in technology and communications have given us the ability to express ourselves no matter what our creative aptitudes may actually be. The Internet affords us an unlimited clean slate to post the pictures we can take without film, the novels and stories (and reviews) we can write without paper, the music we can make without instruments, and even the movies we can make without actors. As we speak, for example, there are people tweeting poetry and writing novels on their cell phones. A relatively small investment can make each and every one of us auteurs in whatever endeavor we desire, and yet many of us can’t quite shake the need for the legitimacy of the physical. Some writers don’t believe it’s an album unless you can buy it at Sam Goody’s, or that it’s a novel unless it comes out on paper between covers, which often leads to the desperate and ill-advised move of self-publishing (for nonfiction books with highly specific information or a limited audience, self-publishing is acceptable—for fiction, never).

Nowhere is the imperative to produce something tangible and “legitimate” stronger than in independent film. Despite the rise of various outlets for new filmmakers on digital cable and on the Internet, there is still that hardcore contingent who hold on tight to the dream of making the movie with the name actors and the solid production values and the funky sensibilities that will kill at Sundance or Slamdance and win the distribution deal that will bring people to theaters and fill seats with asses. They’ll point to now-legendary indie success-stories like the Coen Brothers, Kevin Smith, Todd Solondz, Steven Soderbergh, and (wait for it) Quentin Tarantino, people whose talent transcended their budgets, and shoot for that kind of big-time score.

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The Point of All This: Unfortunately it takes a lot more to accomplish this goal than a labor-of-love script and a digital video camera, as film marketing expert Reed Martin explains in his new book The Reel Truth: Everything You Didn’t Know You Need to Know About Making an Independent Film (Faber and Faber, 2009). Movies are expensive things to make, requiring not just cast and crew but investors, producers, loan officers, permits, intellectual property clearances, lawyers, lawyers and more lawyers. The success of any independent film is the longest of long shots, and the journey from start to finish is like limping through a mine field in a cloud of mustard gas. Potential backers will pull out or fail to materialize in an economy in the toilet, the wrong wording or omission in a contract could mean your star could back out and still get paid, that McDonald’s billboard that wound up in one shot could bring the Golden Arches legal team down on you, or you could actually complete the film and be one of the thousands of entries rejected by the ever-dwindling Sundance festival. Little Films That Could like Juno and Little Miss Sunshine are the exception, not the rule—you have better odds winning the lottery.

Martin doesn’t say all this to scare potential filmmakers but to caution them, and his book is a treasure trove of cautionary tales and war stories from bloodied veterans of the indie film scene. His access to people in all areas of the field, on the creative and business sides, is remarkable. In here is sage advice from people like Alexander Payne and Darren Aronofsky, Christopher Nolan and Kevin Spacey, and the folks behind such wildcat films as Donnie Darko, Boys Don’t Cry and The King of Kong. But also, and perhaps more importantly, Martin talks with deal-brokers and contract attorneys and other experts in the business of financing, shepherding and distributing small films outside the bubble of the big studios. Filmmakers will learn how to form an LLC, how to pitch to investors, how to film on the cheap while staying legal, how to promote on a shoestring, and how to attract name actors to your project without having to pay them more than the rest of the movie costs to make. In addition, Martin appends sample budget breakdowns at various levels of funding and a general template for binding contracts (though he cannot emphasize enough how important it is to get a lawyer involved).

Though it loses points for being yet another book about film to use the word “reel” as a pun in its title, everything else about The Reel Truth is comprehensive, substantial and, above all, useful for both the aspiring filmmaker and ones already at work. It comes highly recommended to anyone wishing to avoid the Devil and his tainted biscotti, lest the promise of sweet, nutty, dunkable goodness crumble into the cup-bottom sludge of failure and despair.

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Keep in Mind: In other news of a more local bent, this item came across my desk… “During the month of August, Athens Borders (Beechwood Shopping Center) Associates will ask customers at the register if they would like to purchase new books for deserving students. Family Connection/ Communities in Schools of Athens will provide the books to kids in public schools and early education in Athens… to build their home libraries.”

I have to say that I’m skeptical of the motives of any big-box store that asks its customers to buy merchandise to donate to charity—the fact that it generates full-price sales makes it hardly a magnanimous gesture—but the cause is a worthy one. Kids do need books, and our school libraries never have enough. My advice is to participate in this program but take a moment to ask if perhaps Borders might match your donation with one of its own.

John G. Nettles