Be a Psychologist: Tips from the Writer’s Room
by Salvatore Stabile on March 5, 2012 in Production
In the fifteen years I’ve been writing professionally, I haven’t heard too many people outwardly admit, “I want to be a TV writer.” That is, until now. For a long time, television has been the red headed step child of the entertainment industry. But as studios take less chances with the films they produce, networks are doing the opposite, taking big risks with content. With the paradigm shifting, television is quickly becoming the preferred medium of choice among budding auteurs.
The allure of television seems great from the outside. Its well deserved poster child for some time now, JJ Abrams, has created a beacon for new talent and fresh ideas to migrate to the small tube. He has destroyed the perception that TV has limitations. With success in hand, JJ Abrams parlayed his creative capital into a top notch movie career working with the likes of Tom Cruise and Steven Spielberg. So who wouldn’t want to follow in the footsteps of JJ Abrams? Well, that’s not the question you should be asking. The real question is, “Do I have what it takes to make it television?”
I’ve built a career as both a feature writer/director, as well as a TV writer/producer, so I’ve been allowed to take a peek behind the curtain of each part of the industry. Over the years, I’ve found that TV suits my sensibility and work ethic best. But before you eagerly rush to join the ranks, you should be aware; success in television is not as easy as some make it seem. There are some downsides.
First, let’s start with the pros of working in television. In television, the writer in king, and the writer doesn’t have to sit around waiting for a major director, or star, to get a green light for their project. In television, the wonderful characters you spend months, if not years, bringing to life on the page get to live on if your show is ordered. Unlike a film, which can take up to a decade to get made, the average episode of television is conceived, written, shot and aired all in a matter of two months. The money in television is steady and good at first, great as you move up the ladder. If you work on a show that is picked up for multiple seasons, you can plan your life much easier. There is “somewhat” of a security that comes with working in TV that doesn’t exist in the feature world. And if you are among the truly lucky, and you create a hit show that makes it to syndication, you stand to make tens of millions of dollars down the line.
With that said, there is a side to TV most people aren’t aware of. Even though it seems like there are dozens of new shows hitting the air each month, don’t be fooled, the barrier to entry is great, if not greater than the film industry. And for those who are currently working writers on a show, most will admit, it is no easy ride.
ABC’s “Revenge”
There are two types of experiences a writer can have while working in TV. I have been apart of both. First, there is “the generally good experience.” How does that happen? You meet with a showrunner, he/she is cool, they think you have what it takes to write for the series they created, they call your agent, they hire you, you show up to work a few weeks later, meet a bunch of other really cool, talented writers who are ready and willing to work hard, be respectful and have fun throughout the process. The working hours are reasonable, 10AM to 6PM usually. A few late nights a month doesn’t hurt or scare anyone. Your work hard for your show runner. You bond. You make friends for life. The show works, or it doesn’t, but in the end everyone is glad they met and will do it over again.
Unfortunately, there is another type of experience. Writers in TV refer to this as, “The life is too short experience.” When you find yourself working on one of these shows, there is nothing worse. Most writers try to convince themselves that the large amount of money they are earning is worth the pain, but within a few short weeks they are praying the show tanks when it premieres, and that the network cancels it quickly so they can move on. If you land a job on a “life is too short” show, you can be stuck there for three years, depending on your contract with the studio. That is, if you don’t quit or get fired first. Ok, so you’re probably wondering, “Why would I ever want to quit, or hope to be fired off a show?”
The writers room, a room with seven to ten, sometimes more, overly educated strangers with vastly different life experiences, opinions, ways of expressing themselves, eating habits, sensitivities and sense of humors can quickly become a volatile mixture constantly on the verge of combustion. From the time a show is picked up and ordered to series, to the time the first episode airs, the writers and producers usually only have a ten week runway to begin breaking ideas and writing scripts for subsequent episodes.
During that time, many things can go wrong. In my experience, the most common problem that occurs is that the showrunner isn’t sure where he wants to take the series, and none of the writers he/she hired can agree on where it should go either. Discussions in the first few weeks can quickly turn to heated debates, which can turn to full blown arguments, which can turn into personal insults that can tear a room apart and make your life suck. Sound like Survivor? It can be. And no, I’m not exaggerating at all.
If a bad writer’s room develops, breaking episodes 2-13 suddenly becomes a tedious chore. Writers don’t want to pitch ideas for fear of getting into an argument with a peer or disappointing the showrunner. The room clams up. You suddenly begin to feel like a sequestered juror, imprisoned until a constructive resolution is reached.
Suddenly, that 10AM to 6PM work schedule you were promised turns into a 9AM to 11PM shift. You are forced to sit in the same small, depressing, florescent lit room, day in and day out, as the toxic smell of erasable magic markers slowly melts your brain. You’re stressed, so you keep eating junk food provided by the production. You gain 15 pounds in two months (this happens whether you are on a good show or bad). You drink too much coffee because you need stay awake. You can no longer fall sleep when you go home. You become irritable, your health suffers, your blood pressure and cholesterol rise to dangerous levels, and suddenly you wish you weren’t working in television.
Dennis Leary in “Rescue Me”
When a bad situation develops in a writer’s room, it disrupts the entire show. When scripts don’t flow on schedule, the studio and network get more involved. They begin micromanaging story, which makes the writer’s job even harder. When the writer’s room isn’t functioning properly, the production department can’t do the prep work needed to produce the upcoming episode. The show begins to go over budget, the studio and network get even more involved, adding tension to an already stressful situation.
There is a survival kit that everyone needs to have in order to make it in the television business, regardless of whether you end up working on a functional or dysfunctional show. The outside perception is that all you have to do is be is a good writer, have good ideas and work quick in order to make it. The truth is, you need to be so much more than that. You have to be someone who doesn’t care if you get your way or not. You have to be someone who is ready to write what your showrunner orders you to write and what’s best for the future of the series. Essentially, you have to be a spoke on a wheel. Your job is to come to work every day, playing your part to make sure the wheel continues to turn.
I made a few mistakes early in my career on the first shows I worked on. I was in my mid 20’s, and I crossed over from the feature world where I was always encouraged to “do my own thing” to make the script better. However, I quickly found out that’s not the way things work in TV. In one of my first assignments writing for a series, the showrunner handed me an outline of what he wanted in the episode. He even included dialogue, which I thought was terrible and not my style. I went off to write the episode. I had 2 weeks to turn in a first draft.
When I turned in the draft, the showrunner was not happy. I had made adjustments to two scenes from the outline, and I left out his on the nose dialogue. To my credit, my changes made the script stronger. To his credit, he was my boss and I clearly disobeyed his instructions. He didn’t care if the script was better or not. I defended my reasons for the changes, but in the end it was a losing battle, I should have just did what he wanted.
The irony of that situation presented itself on the next show I worked on. I went off to write an episode, based on an approved outline by the showrunner. This time, learning from my past, I wrote exactly what I was instructed to write. However, when I turned my first draft in, the showrunner was disappointed that I stuck so close to his outline. Apparently, the reason he hired me was because he loved my voice and originality and he wanted that reflected in the script.
At this point in my career, I was completely confused. I didn’t know if I ever wanted to write for television again. Showrunners seemed like schizophrenics. Luckily, a film I wrote, called Where God Left His Shoes, found financing. John Leguizamo came on to star and I went off to direct the film, which IFC actually ended up purchasing.
The experience freed me from TV long enough to allow me to regain perspective on who I was as a person and who I wanted to be as an artist within this industry. It also helped me realize that when you’re an independent filmmaker, you have to be somewhat of a psychologist in order to be successful. You have to know how to read people and figure out what will inspire them to come work on your tough shoot for no money. You also have to figure out how to bring fifty or more people together, all with different personalities and temperaments, and manage to keep everyone somewhat content.
Be a psychologist. With that lesson in hand, I returned to TV after completing the film. Taking the time to figure out what your showrunner’s preferences are, making an effort to create solid, respectful relationships with the other writers and trying to bring some inspiration and fun to a room is always appreciated. That’s the best advice I can give to anyone starting out. If that doesn’t work, and sometimes it won’t, the only other good advice I can give if you get hired to work on a show; don’t ever eat the chips or doughnuts in the room, exercise every day to keep your mind and body sane and make sure you remove the following phrase from your vocabulary, “That’s a stupid idea.”