Kosberg grew up in Arcadia, Calif., a small town about 20 miles northeast of Hollywood. Before he was born, his mother was an assistant to sci-fi director George Pal. His father owned a clothing store called Thrifty Town. After high school, Kosberg studied screenwriting at UCLA. His first screenplay was about a teenager who has fantasies about seducing his English teacher. By his own admission, it wasn't very good. And it never sold.

After graduating, he took a string of entry-level Hollywood jobs at public relations firms and talent agencies. Then, while working for a producer in New York, Kosberg met a young United Artists publicist named David Steven Simon. Within a year the two were working as a team in L.A., feverishly pitching and writing scripts. They quickly realized that they were better at pitching them than writing them. ''We were like those Ed Sullivan juggling acts that spin the plates,'' says Simon, now a successful sitcom writer, of their pitching technique. ''Out of 11 plates, 10 would break. But one wouldn't.''

The first pitch Kosberg sold was Backflip!, an idea based on an article about a guy who, after graduating college, returns to high school so he can score straight A's and hot cheerleaders. The next was Scoop, a story about a newspaper run by kids. Neither got made, but he was getting closer. Then he heard about an elderly man named Ellsworth ''Sonny'' Wisecarver.

Sixty years ago, Wisecarver was a teenage Casanova who was written up as ''America's Greatest Lover.'' When Kosberg read this, his light went on. That's a movie! He and Simon flew to Wisecarver's home in Las Vegas and optioned the rights to his life story for $500. Then they turned around and sold the pitch for $50,000. Looking back, Kosberg laughs at how easy the whole process was. ''All you needed to sell it was one line: He was America's Greatest Lover...and he was 14 years old!'' That pitch later became 1987's In the Mood, starring a young Patrick Dempsey.

Kosberg's first real success, however, was 1985's Arnold Schwarzenegger shoot-'em-up, Commando. His credit was a small one — ''co-associate producer'' — but it landed him his first credit on a hit movie. There were other rewards too. Every year, Kosberg says, he'll open his mailbox and find a check for somewhere in the neighborhood of $20,000 for his Commando royalties. Call it his own little tax rebate from the governor.

Almost no one in Hollywood makes a living just by pitching. Typically, when Kosberg sells a pitch he'll get a check for between $10,000 and $50,000. Then he'll get another $25,000 to $100,000 if and when the movie starts shooting. On top of that, he can receive a ''story by'' credit that will earn him another $50,000 to $150,000. And finally, since Kosberg receives a producer credit on virtually all of the projects he pitches, he can also receive a producer's fee in the neighborhood of $500,000 to $800,000 if the movie is made. All in, if one of his movies actually winds up in theaters, he could earn about $1 million.