CHAPTER

3The Big Idea: Script and Project Development

A need to tell and hear stories is essential to the species Homo sapiens—second in necessity apparently after nourishment and before love and shelter. Millions survive without love or home, almost none in silence; the opposite of silence leads quickly to narrative, and the sound of story is the dominant sound of our lives, from the small accounts of our day's events to the vast incommunicable constructs of psychopaths.

Reynolds Price

THIS CHAPTER'S TALKING POINTS

I.	Think It
II.	Write It
III.	Develop It

I. THINK IT

I don't think art alone changes people, but consciousness, the life of the mind, is a critical force for change and art helps the shaping of consciousness.

Tony Kushner, playwright

The thinking, researching, soul searching, criticism, doubt, recognition, quiet victory—it's the process behind the story. The story is king. Always. This principle applies to a dramatic series or a sitcom on a major network, a cable news show, a mobisode, podcast, a short film on YouTube, a video blog, even a 30-second commercial—storytelling is always at its core. All genres want to tell a story that is compelling and engages the viewer.

The markets for story ideas are proliferating. Traditional TV venues are expanding into hundreds of channels and networks, running parallel to new formats for content that are introduced into the marketplace—VOD, DVD, the Internet, mobile phones, and video games, to name a few. Add to this an impressive market for such nonbroadcast areas as corporate image and training videos; DVD sales presentations; domestic and global video conferencing; teaching tools in education, medicine, and science; do-it-yourself videos; and satellite media tours. This massive market can only be satisfied by producers and writers with ideas.

Producers in television stay in touch with what is currently airing on TV, and what might be aired in the future. They watch television, they read the regular publications and industry trade magazines that deal with the TV business (see the web site that accompanies this book). Producers who work in new media are aware of constantly evolving directions by reading online sites and blogs, attending conferences, subscribing to magazines and weekly trade papers, and joining online communities that share information. As you begin to put the many pieces together, the intricacies of TV and new media become clearer and more accessible. And more fun.

The Global Demand for Content

America and the United Kingdom traditionally have supplied the majority of programming for the global marketplace. More recently, many international markets have become less dependent on this content, and are producing more shows locally. But the viewing public can be fickle—shows could be a hit in one country and a flop in another, or can make much more money internationally than in a country of origin. In some cases, hit programs are syndicated or repurposed; in other instances, the idea for the show, known as a franchise, can be a huge seller, as in the case of Survivor and American Idol, both of which began in the United Kingdom.

The very nature of a producer's job requires constant updating and lifelong learning. Producers increase their worth by researching and watching international television and other forms of online media; whenever possible, they'll view it in its original language. This adds a considerable depth to their abilities as a producer, and as a writer as well.

The Harsh Reality of the Marketplace

The metamorphosis of your rough idea into a tangible end-product can be a real challenge. The research can be daunting, the writing itself often agonizing, there isn't always a positive payoff, and the competition is intense. The majority of television shows are written by seasoned television veteran writers—they not only have the experience and understand the necessary nuances of writing for television, but they are trusted and familiar entities to the executives with whom they work on a daily basis.

Very few TV shows come from the minds of beginning writers. This often translates into business as usual for the viewer, and it is comfortable for the executives. The following statistics vary from year to year, but they're accurate enough to test your commitment to writing and developing your idea:

  At least 100,000 scripts are written each year and very few are good; most are written quite badly.

  Of these 100,000 script ideas, only about 10,000 get pitched to people in a position to develop them for broadcast.

  Maybe 250 to 300 of these 10,000 get to the finished script development stage.

  Fewer than 10 percent of those 250 to 300 are ever shot as pilot episodes.

  Depending on whose statistics you believe, maybe half of these pilots get aired and even less continue on as series.

New Media's New Frontiers

As discouraging as these statistics are, they are just that—statistics. Hundreds of shows over television's history were huge hits in spite of opposition from critics, executives, investors—Seinfeld, or Lost and Ugly Betty were considered real risks at first. Their triumphs remind us that passion and talent is hard to quantify or consign to a spreadsheet.

And as importantly, the potential of new media is challenging and breaking the rules laid down in television. In this new media frontier, the producer is encouraged to expand the boundaries, share unique ideas, and carve out new territory.

Ideas for Programming are Everywhere

There is no wasted job, no wasted time for a writer. Life experience is everything. Without it, what is there to write about? If you're working at a McDonalds and you're an aspiring writer, you can write the greatest story about the French-fryer that anyone ever wrote. When I was in my 20s, I was in a very big hurry—I wanted to succeed yesterday. But what I know now is “get a life,” continue to work out there in the world, continue to write, and know that everything you do is material for your work.

Scott A. Williams, excerpt from interview in Chapter 11

Maybe you have what you think is a saleable, viable idea for a TV show, or a clever piece that is perfect for an online series. Or maybe you have strong writing skills, but haven't yet found an idea that engages you. Here are just a few sources to help inspire some exciting programming ideas.

  Friends, family, colleagues, or fellow students. Some have great ideas but can't write. Adapt their ideas into tangible formats.

  Total strangers. People you meet on a plane or at a party; everybody has an interesting story.

  Newspapers and magazines. Big city or small town papers report rich stories from real life.

  The Internet. Hundreds of web sites focus on how to write and pitch scripts, plot suggestions, as well as links, blogs, chat rooms, social networking sites—all are rich with ideas.

  Libraries. Find out what books or plays are not restricted by copyrights and are in the public domain, such as works from authors such as Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, and Shakespeare. Adapt them, or “borrow” freely.

  Book expositions and fairs. Publishers large and small promote their books and authors; find ideas among them. Option the ones you think you can develop. (There's more information about your legal options in Chapter 5.)

  History. Truth is as interesting as fiction. Write an imaginary character in an historical situation, and imagine what could have happened if….

  Biographies. Why are famous people interesting? Read biographies for story ideas. What techniques and skills made them succeed?

  Let genius inspire you. Read great books, both narrative and nonfiction, and see if they inspire any ideas in you. Something a character does or says might compel you to take a different direction that becomes your own.

  Your creative well. Inside your active brain is a whirlwind of ideas. Tap into your own dream world, for instance. Try some techniques, like giving yourself a creative suggestion or story problem to solve, right before you go to sleep. Keep a notebook or tape recorder with you and jot down ideas, not only after dreaming, but while walking and working. Listen for snatches of interesting conversations, a sight gag, or an incident you see on the street. The more you tap into this fountain of riches in your brain, the more ideas are available to you.

  Listen to your “running tapes.” Founded in semiotics, we each have them: these attitudes or beliefs about our appearance, health, fashion, entertainment, politics, aging, race. As a writer, you can emotionally or ideologically tie yours into a viewer's “running tapes” and create a convincing connection.

Successful businesses have mission statements; a dimensional producer has a vision statement. Author Laurie Beth Jones calls this “…a picture of how the landscape will look after you've been through it. It is your ‘ideal.’” Whether the idea you want to write about is your own original concept, or one you acquired from someone else, your vision statement helps you define the effect you want make on a viewer.

You have to have the willingness to collaborate, and definitely the ability to tell a story. At the end of the day, you're telling stories. You have to be able to structure a story so that someone knows what you're talking about. In the news field, the challenge for a news producer is that nine times out of 10, you are writing a story for someone else's voice. One of the functions of a news producer is to write a story and collaborate with the on-air talent. If you don't have the writing skills to write a story and collaborate with someone who may have a different vision for that story, you're not going to be very happy.

Matt Lombardi, excerpt from interview in Chapter 11

II. WRITE IT

The difference between the right word and the almost-right word is the difference between the lightning and the lightning bug.

Mark Twain

The television industry has been built on a strong foundation of producers who started as writers—each had an idea they were passionate about, one important enough to nurture and protect. They wanted it ultimately to reflect their passion and weren't willing to give up control to a production company or network that could destroy it. These writers adopted the skills of a producer so they could protect their vision.

Increasingly, new media is attracting TV and film writers and producers. They're creating projects and innovative ideas for the Internet; for elegant, sophisticated video games; and for mobisodes. They are taking chances, redefining the aesthetic language of new media, and exploring the financial pros and cons.

The Writer/Producer

In the entertainment industry, the writer/producer can be a major player. He is known as a hyphenate—a creative person with two (or more) specific skills who, as a result, can do twice as much work (and often earn twice the money). The title and the job can change with each show and its circumstances. As you learned in Chapter 1, the producer's titles can range from executive producer or showrunner, to co-producer or associate producer, to line producer or consulting producer—each depends on the individual project.

As the public's demands for new programming and content keep changing and evolving, producers are challenged to find bright new ideas. They capitalize on popular formats and topics that can satisfy viewers’ demands. In addition to spinning a tale, the script serves several other purposes. Producers, directors, actors, and crew members all depend on the script as a blueprint to provide the structure for the construction or creation of their part of the project. The producer also needs a script to create a budget, breaking it down into specific departments, or accounts, as you'll see in Chapter 4.

Writing for TV versus Film

Whether you're writing the script yourself or working with a scriptwriter, you want to know what elements make a script work. Writing for television is not the same as writing for film. One essential difference is the people at the core of the story. In a feature film, the characters and their storylines are introduced, the story begins, peaks, ends, and everything is resolved. When the movie is over, so is the story.

Yet in most genres of TV programming, the characters and their storylines continue—both are ongoing and familiar to the viewer. TV writers capitalize on that endurance by first creating strong storylines and then constructing lasting characters, writing plots around them, building on their reactions, and constantly testing them. Viewers rely on this familiarity with the characters and their storylines. The audience gets to know them well, and brings their own cumulative memories and experiences of the show to each episode.

Art theorist, Steven C. Pepper, has called this phenomenon “aesthetic funding,” adding that “a late perception in a series … carries to considerable degree the results of previous perceptions as its constituents.” Simply put, an episode of Lost that we're watching now is enriched and added to by previous episodes of Lost that we've seen already. Each viewing adds to the experience, and is part of the viewer's aesthetic fund. It provides a meaningful context for the intimate details and character traits, and gives every aspect of the show an extra significance.

In television, I find it more rewarding, because you write something and it's being shot in a couple of weeks. It's a great, great feeling to write and rewrite and create with real live actors and directors and technical people on a real live set. And in a few more weeks, it's airing on television—so your rewards are more immediate.

Scott A. Williams, excerpt from interview in Chapter 11

Television and New Media Programming Genres

As a producer, you may be interested in developing a project in any of the following genres of either television and nonbroadcast programming, or for the growing number of delivery systems:

  Reality/nonfiction. Documentary, make-over, competition, biography, nature, travel, “making of,” interviews, how-to

  Sitcom. Family, teen, smart, silly, spin-off characters

  Episodic drama. Police, law, forensics, medical, firefighters, family, political, edgy, young adult

  News. Local and national news, entertainment, politics, weather, magazine format, special news reports

  Children's. Cartoon, educational, puppets, classroom

  Talk. Daytime, late night, women's issues, sports

  Soaps. Daytime, primetime, novellas

  Sports. Event coverage, games, playoffs

  Game and quiz shows. Words, numbers, trivia, all competitive

  Movies of the week. Network and cable, multipart or one-off

  Infomercials. Cable and nonbroadcast, from weight loss to makeup to vacuum cleaners

  Corporate. Corporate image, training, industrials, promotional, conferences and conventions

  Advertising. Commercials, trailers, promos, DVD added value and special features

  Music videos. Broadcast, point of purchase, special features

  DVDs. Commercially released films and TV series, do-it-yourself, specialty, events, games

  Webisode. Web episode, usually short, of a TV show that's streamed or downloaded

  Mobisode/podcast. Generally a one- to three-minute broadcast of a TV episode made for mobile phones and portable media players

  Video game consoles. Games that are either streamed, downloaded, or on DVD

The purpose of art is to lay bare the questions that are hidden by the answers.

James Baldwin

From Idea to Script

A script translates an idea into a specific format that can act as a blueprint for production. It includes many or all of the following components:

  A strong story. One that grabs the viewer's attention and holds it.

  An amazing hook. Something unique about the story: a character, a location, a texture is edgy and different, and stands out from the others.

  A protagonist. The traditional hero who is somehow unique yet familiar, vulnerable yet courageous, someone about whom the viewer can care.

  An antagonist. A bad-guy role, the villain, someone who creates conflict, tension, and challenges the good guy or the overall plot in some major way.

  A buddy. The main character has a friend, colleague, or sibling who's a sidekick or performs essential functions, like the conscience, the helper, the smart one, the comic relief—often, the character who's sacrificed in the end.

  A challenge. The character(s) must confront a challenge and either wins or loses in the process.

  A conflict. The character must make moral choices and each option has consequences. Plus, the conflict must be resolved in a way that convinces and satisfies.

  A contradiction. A situation that seems good but turns out to be bad, or vice versa.

  A demon. Something that happened to the character before the story starts (in the back story) that haunts and influences his or her actions now.

  A heartstring. Romance, vulnerability, and sex all help the viewer understand and bond with the characters and their lives.

  An “up” ending. Happy or resolved endings sell, regardless of how real life is lived; they often show some form of redemption or measurable growth of the character that satisfies the viewer.

Length

In commercial television, the scriptwriter must also factor in commercial breaks. These breaks include regular commercials, promos, and other material supplied by the national and/ or local station affiliate. Depending on the station, a one-hour show actually consists of only about 44 to 48 minutes of programming, along with 12 to 16 minutes of breaks. The script is generally about 50 to 55 pages long. A half-hour show runs 22 to 24 minutes with 6 to 8 minutes of commercial breaks. The traditional guideline is that one script page equals one minute of action, although this can vary with the genre.

Commercial Breaks

When a show goes to commercial, that interruption needs to be seamlessly integrated into the storyline without losing action or suspense or pacing, while still maintaining the plot's thread. The same applies to coming back into the story from the commercial. Unless you're writing for noncommercial television, these breaks come with the territory. Count the number of breaks in a TV show that's similar to yours. How often do they come? How long are they? How does the story line move in and out of the break?

Dramatic Plotlines

Starting with the genius of classic thinkers like Aristotle, and continuing through to the postmodern teachings of dramatic writing, the big idea of the story is what's most important. This action is more important than the characters, and is what determines who they are and how they react. A compelling story revolves around action that's bigger than life and greater than its players.

A plotline has two distinct movements, according to Aristotle:

By Complication I mean all from the beginning of the story to the point just before the change in the hero's fortunes; by Denouement, all from the beginning of the change to the end.

Aristotle, Poetics

The Complication. This involves all that's happening in the plot along with any kind of back story that connects to the plot. It starts as the plot's beginning until something changes in the hero's fortunes.

The Denouement. From that moment of change until the end. It develops as a cause-and-effect of the complication, takes time to unfold, and continues to the very end.

Most dramatic series, and many comedy series, rely on the ABC structure, shown here, and interweave three story lines.

  The A story. Propels most of the episode's primary storyline, or main idea.

  The B story. Focuses on primary and/or supporting characters; often they carry over into subsequent episodes.

  The C story. The comic or soft-hearted relief that deflates tension.

Acts

…a whole is that which has beginning, middle, and end.

Aristotle, from Poetics

Aristotle's Poetics, the classic primer on the elements of dramatic writing, mandates that for a story to be compelling enough to arrest the audience's attention, it must have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

  Beginning. There is an event or action that sets the plot in motion. It's initiated by the hero/protagonist or the villain/antagonist, and it happens early. There may be a back story—what Aristotle calls the prologue—involving what happened before the story begins and connects that to the action in the beginning. This back story might set a tone, introduce characters, and reveal a location.

  Middle. Here, the event or action in the beginning results in the direct cause-and-effect of that early thing. In the middle, the hero—or sometimes the villain—must make moral choices; relationships and characters develop; we see increased conflict. The middle motivates the plot to come to a specific change in the hero's fortunes or misfortune. This becomes the turning point that leads to the end.

  End. The pace picks up, vital questions are answered, conflicts get resolved, and the story comes to a climactic and usually viewer-satisfying end.

In television and in much of the content created for new media, the main story does follow Aristotle's advice for a beginning, middle, and end—but there are also subplots and themes that run throughout the life of the series. These may or may not be addressed in each episode, and don't always end.

Having a beginning, middle, and end to a story doesn't necessarily mean the same thing as having three acts. Though most half-hour TV shows are divided into three segments, and the majority of one-hour shows into six, some forms of programming might be spaced into four or five parts: a teaser and four acts, or it could run to five acts. Some shows may add a short end tag, too.

  The teaser. Three to five pages, with a plot set-up that hooks the viewer

  Act 1. 13 to 15 pages (the beginning)

  Act 2. 12 to 13 pages (the middle)

  Act 3. 11 to 12 pages (more of the middle)

  Act 4. 11 to 13 pages (the end)

  Tag. One to two pages (wraps up a plotline or teases the next episode)

Sitcoms

Generally, sitcoms tend to open with a funny teaser and have two or three, even four acts. A few sitcoms break this mold and use the A-B-C structure, earlier. Other sitcoms might devote their half hour to one main story. Seinfeld was quite a unique concept in that each episode usually featured four plotlines that resulted in one conclusion and satisfied all four conflicts.

Script Formats and Styles

Most writers prefer to begin writing their scripts by first outlining their overall Big Picture idea into acts or segments. Then, they might expand that into a treatment form before they finally flesh out the story in a full script format.

Outlines are shorter than full scripts, and can provide a clear map for the writer to follow. It can also help to highlight story problems early on. An outline is usually one to three pages, almost a sequential laundry list of the show's beats that is used by the writer as a basic guideline. Some writers use 3"×5" index cards, pinning them on a cork board, to help them organize their scenes, then translate that to an outline on paper.

A treatment traditionally is written in a narrative form rather than in script form. It might run from three to 10 pages, sometimes longer. In most cases, development executives read the treatment only for the nuances of the primary story idea. If they are interested in what they read, they'll ask for a full script. You can find more information about treatments in Chapter 6.

A script should be easy to read, should follow a very specific script format, and is written with language that is sparse but interesting—many scripts are a delight to read. These formats have been agreed upon as industry standards; if you decide to use a different format in the hopes of appearing innovative and unique, you're only branding yourself as an amateur. Several software programs are widely used by writers, like Final Draft and Movie Magic Screenwriter, and some shareware is available online.

The basic guidelines for writing a script are:

  It is neatly typed with no erasures, scribbled notes, or correction fluid.

  Each page has 1½-inch margins and paragraph separation.

  The paper is simple 20-pound, white, and 8½ ×11 inches.

  It's printed on only one side.

  Each page is divided into frequent paragraphs so the words don't run together.

  Scripts are usually typed in Courier New or Times New Roman, with a 12-point font. Avoid other fonts that are overly busy or pretentious, another sure sign of an amateur.

  Each page is numbered with a numeral followed by a period in the upper right corner.

  Each page is double- and triple-checked for spelling, punctuation, and grammar.

  The finished script is bound in plain card-stock covers with brass brad closings.

Formatting Your Script

A script for a film or television show generally follows the rule of one script page per one minute of on-screen action. That's not always the case but it's close. There are a few other commonly agreed-upon elements in formatting a script to keep in mind:

  Story Title. You want your project to be noticed and remembered; its title is a big part of creating a good or bad first impression. When possible, keep it short and descriptive. Your title can say a lot about the show, either directly or in its nuance: think Desperate Housewives, Lost, 30 Rock, Rescue Me, Heroes, Mad Men. It can also signal the show's tone or direction.

  First Page. There is no one rule for the format of the first/title page, though usually the title is written in all caps, and centered in the upper third of the page. Under the title, type “by” the original author, which also is centered. Subsequent writers may receive credits in descending lines. There might also be the contractual mandate that “Based on the novel by…” follows. Generally, the date and the color of the script's revisions pages are listed; in the lower right corner might be the author's representative, with a contact phone number and/or email address. In the lower left corner, type the copyright symbol, the year, and the author's name. The WGA web site provides additional updated information.

  Formatting. Film or A/V Script? A script for television, new media, and nonbroadcast is usually formatted in one of two basic styles, depending on its content, its genre, and its delivery system(s). It can follow the traditional film screenplay format used in writing films and television dramas (as seen later), or it can be in A/V (audio/visual) format (see later), using two, three, sometimes four vertical columns.

Here's a short scene from a TV drama that uses the traditional film script format:

FILM SCRIPT FORMAT

The same idea written as an A/V script is formatted in landscape format rather than portrait, with at least two columns. This format is used in many television shows, commercials, corporate image, music videos, games, how-to, and other programming genres:

You can add other information to this format. Some producers prefer the format with the two vertical Audio and Visual columns, so they can add other columns for graphics information (lower thirds like name, location, title), transitions (a dissolve or wipe), and time duration (the length of a sound bite, narration, or visual action). Any voice-over or narration is written in the Audio section.

Camera Angles

Few writers add written descriptions for camera angles (such as CU for Close Up) or directions (such as Camera Pulls Back) except when it accomplishes a specific story-related action. This use of camera angle description usually lies within the realm of the director, worked out just prior to the actual shoot.

If you do want to prepare a shooting script, however, it's not difficult to grasp the language of camera angles and directions; by using these terms correctly in your script, you can convey the texture and feeling that you want your script to invoke. You can explore this in more depth in Chapters 4 and 8.

Script Components

A strong script provides the reader with a clear format and brief descriptions of the action. Your script also includes dialogue that reflects the characters and their part in the main storyline. Good dialogue gives important plot information, reveals characters’ motivations, and propels the flow of the story line. Following are a few components of compelling dialogue.

  Dialogue should create the illusion of reality, not reality itself. Conversation in real life can be tedious and boring.

  Each word and every line advances the plot, explains the character, or provides further story exposition.

  When dialogue is used sparingly, less can be more. Pure silence at the right time can be eloquent.

  One perfect adjective is better than two or three that are not.

  Adding action to a character's dialogue creates momentum and is usually preferable to talking heads that don't move. An actor can be talking or yelling as he jogs. Sitcoms, for example, tend to place their primary sets in a living room in front of a staircase and/or the front door (think the Cosby Show and Two and a Half Men). This provides more momentum—a set with multiple entry and exit points allows for characters to inject more action into the comedy.

  By knowing your characters and how they speak, you can add nuance with speech patterns, or unique phrases that only he or she would use.

  Read your dialogue out loud to yourself. Record it into a tape recorder. How honest does it sound to your ear when you listen?

  An honest writer is a rewriter. Even the most seasoned will rewrite until they're satisfied. They can usually sense when it works—it's a gut feeling. By trusting your own intuition and pushing your ego and over-think aside, you can more authentically review your work. If you're still not sure, show it to another writer, a professor, or someone who can be totally honest with you.

The Spec Script

Some writers have gotten into the entertainment and media industries by writing a spec script—a script written on speculation, one with no guarantees of being seen or bought. Its primary purpose is to showcase your writing talents—if it sells, that's icing on the cake. Most spec scripts are written for a current program or show that is popular; one that you like and watch regularly. Your lawyer, agent, or an inside connection who—if it's positively received—then sends it to development executives or other producers or partners who may be looking for writers with talent and innovative ideas.

A good spec script can be a major factor in a hiring decision. In writing a spec script, the writer is first a researcher. If you're writing a script for a specific show, you want to know that show inside and out. Study the characters, their histories, and how they speak. Watch at least a season of the show and you'll get its overall perspective and its nuances. What is the rough format of each episode? How many story arcs and commercial segments in each episode?

Create a plotline that has not been used before on the show but that remains faithful to its overall story line and its characters. If you decide to send a spec script for a specific show to an executive who works on that show, keep in mind she is familiar with each of the show's elements and will quickly spot any story flaws that are unfaithful to the show.

Working with Other Writers

Writers in television take various approaches to their work. Some work best alone and prefer the solitude, and others write better with one or more partners. Many writers are on staff in a show and are a part of larger writing teams, usually from six to 10 writers. Finding the writing style that fits your personality is integral to your creativity and to your own brand of discipline. As you'll see throughout this book, virtually every aspect of television involves other people. Television is a highly collaborative medium, so by talking to other writers and producers, joining a writers’ group or starting one, taking a class, and reading books about writing for television and emerging media, you can expand these vast creative horizons.

Writing with a Partner

Having a partner with a different viewpoint can be a stimulating combination. You bounce ideas off one another, experiment with dialogue, and discover plot counterpoints and narrative beats. Often one person originates the dialogue and another acts as the word-smith. Writers have varying skills, and when they're combined collaboratively, the results can be exciting.

A script is a valuable commodity. If it sells, you can both be paid—sometimes, paid a lot. But before you pitch your idea, you and your partner must discuss the pertinent details of your partnership. For example, talk over how you'll share writing credits, future percentages and profits, and who's doing what aspect of the writing process. Write these details down in a deal memo (a process you'll explore in Chapter 5), and sign it. This can prevent hard feelings or disagreements between you and your partner in the future.

Working with a Writing Team

A writer can be hired as a staff writer on a specific TV show, or can be a member of a group of independent writers. In both cases, a successful writing team creates the script from the many details contributed by each writer. On most established shows, the writing team is closely supervised by the showrunner who acts as the head writer and team leader throughout the life of the series.

As a staff writer on a show or series, you are likely to enter into a contract situation that spells out the parameters of your pay, credits, time frame, responsibilities, length and genre of the show, and so on. The WGA web site (www.wga.org) can give you specific pay scales for various writing situations. If you're working on spec with an independent team of writers, clarify everyone's specific responsibilities within the group and put together a deal memo between all the contributing writers. You can find further information about deal memos and other contracts in Chapter 5.

Working with an Agent

Professional writers usually have an agent. This agent may be from a boutique agency and represents the writer, promotes and either options and/or sells the writer's work, pitches scripts or ideas to producers, negotiates contracts and subsidiary rights, and looks for other possible venues for the writer's work.

Another form of talent agency is the larger, more powerful packaging agency; these represent actors, directors, often producers, as well as the writer. They put together whole creative packages that ideally bring all these talents together: a great script, just the right actor, and the director who can pull them all together. An established talent agency, such as CAA or ICM, acts as the middleman between buyers and sellers.

Each kind of agency has its advantages and its drawbacks. But the bottom line is that your agent believes in you and your material, and can provide essential access to the right people. Agents usually take a commission of 10 percent, sometimes more, for their services, which can include finding a buyer for your script, getting you a writing job, and/ or negotiating final deals.

Yet finding an agent can be a frustrating catch-22 for new writers. Typically, an agent is interested in representing only established writers, so how can you establish yourself without an agent? If you already have some kind of track record, have sold a script, or have the promise of a sale, agents will pay more attention to you. You can research literary agents through the WGA and online.

If you strongly believe in your project, research agencies, or specific agents, then use polite persistence to make contact with an agent you think is right for your project. It can be challenging to get an agent to read your script and hopefully represent you, but it isn't impossible. Many a writer has gotten an agent by not giving up.

Working with an Entertainment Lawyer

Lawyers who specialize in entertainment and media are aware of the current trends in the television industry, and can see the potential payoff from emerging media and their new delivery systems. Because they have strong connections with producers, directors, actors, and other writers, as well as domestic and global market opportunities, they're in the position to bring these elements all together, similar to the packaging agency.

As you'll see in Chapter 5, lawyers can charge by the hour or by the project. These fees can vary significantly, depending on the lawyer and the project's demands. Some lawyers may stay with a project from start to finish, and are a permanent line in the project's budget. For a low-budget project, producers can often find reasonable or free legal advice from organizations of volunteer lawyers, university law departments that offer programs in entertainment law, on the Internet, and from sources listed on the web site that's mentioned throughout this textbook.

Do you really need a lawyer? If you are making a $15,000 movie as a thesis project, then maybe not. But if you have any notion of ever doing anything with it beyond showing it to the department, then you probably will need to get a lawyer involved at some point because nobody will distribute it unless they know that you have all the rights that you need, or all the clearances that you need and there won't be a bunch of claims flying in as soon as this thing ends up on television somewhere.

J. Stephen Sheppard, excerpt from interview in Chapter 11

Working with a Manager

The same way that agents and lawyers are well connected, managers are skilled in networking. Unlike agents, however, managers are not required to adhere to the same restrictions that regulate legitimate writers’ agents. If you have a manager who makes a deal for you, you'll still need a lawyer or agent for final legal negotiations. Managers generally charge a 15 percent commission.

III. DEVELOP IT

The script development stage refers to the early phases of a project in which you and/ or a writer can polish your rough idea into a treatment, proposal, and/or script format. During the development stages, a producer considers potential directors, crew, talent, and the overall budgetary issues within the project.

This development phase can have several scenarios. Here are three of the most common:

1.  You are developing an idea that is either your own original premise, or it belongs to someone else and you have legally optioned it for a period of time.

2.  A production company or a network has put up development money for a writer(s) to develop and flesh out your idea.

3.  A private investor sees the potential of your idea, gives you partial or complete funding, and expects a cut of any profits.

Each development phase has its pros and cons:

1.  In the first scenario, above, you own the idea or have optioned it; no one else controls it. You may have control, but you're also financially responsible for its ownership.

2.  In the second example, someone else's money is involved, which gives them more control, but at least you're not using your own money.

3.  In example three, investors have little assurance that the script or project will sell. They may demand a high return on their investment often two to three times the initial investment. But it may be worth it for the security that their investment provides.

The phrase “development hell” refers to a script's development getting stalled at various stages, languishing for months or years, and often not getting made—or changing drastically over the course of its development. Sometimes these delays are caused by a conflict of ideas, the sudden firing of an executive, a cut in the budget, an actor who demands a bigger part, or simple dissipation of interest.

Protect and Control Your Idea

Before you fully commit yourself to developing a project, you must first legally protect it. If you are not legally protected, you could be wasting your time developing an idea for which you have no rights. Submitting an idea that you don't legally own can invite a lawsuit. In Chapter 5, you can find more information on the following legal issues:

  If the idea belongs to you, protect it.

  If the idea belongs to someone else, option or buy it.

  If a book, short story, article, or other material is the basis for your story, get the rights from the author or his or her legal estate. This doesn't apply if the work is in the public domain—meaning the book or play is no longer protected under copyright. Authors such as Brontë, Dante, Shakespeare, Dickens, and hundreds of others all wrote great ideas that are now in the public domain, and can be freely adapted.

Ownership and control are both important concepts for a producer. Let's assume you have an original idea that you think can be developed into a program concept. After you have fleshed it out into a treatment or script format, your next step is to legally protect it.

If you're understandably concerned that your idea could be plagiarized, you can legally protect it. Most companies to whom you would submit your project will insist that you sign a submission release (an example can be found on the web site) before they will read or consider it. You can find more information in Chapter 5.

  Copyright it. Go online for forms at www.copyright.gov or call the hotline (202) 707-9100. In either the end titles or on your cover page, list the copyright notice; for example, © 2009 CKNY Productions. (The date indicates the year of first public distribution.) Send the paperwork, which is a nonreturnable copy, with a check or money order via certified mail. You will receive a certificate of registration and a registration number.

  Register it. You can register either your treatment or script by mail, with Writers Guild of America or online at www.wga.org. You'll be charged a reasonable fee to register it, and WGA holds the registration for five years. You can reregister it then for another five years.

If It Is Someone Else's Idea, Buy or Option It

Find the Best Market for Your Idea

The potential markets for your program and project ideas are expanding rapidly in this digital revolution. Traditional television networks and cable are being eclipsed by online networks, cellular markets, home entertainment options, DVD, videogame consoles, and more. Nonbroadcast demands are rising too, for material in the fields of corporate training, education, advertising, how-to, and industrials, just to name a few. The venues for your content are endless.

But you've got to sell the idea first. Breaking into the business of entertainment and media can be a real challenge. Yet, every successful writer and producer did it some-how—why should you be an exception?

These industries continue to evolve, and though there are no set formulas, the following descriptions give you several directions in which you can go:

  Every network, movie studio, cable broadcaster, and most production companies have at least one executive, if not an entire department, devoted to development. They're looking for ideas: treatments, scripts, books, articles, news stories, short films that can be made into a series. Then, they work with either their own production department, or with an independent production company, to further develop the idea.

  Networks, cable broadcasters, and other buyers of content often develop and/ or produce their own programs in-house. For example, NBC Universal may produce a show through their own production arm. Often, they may buy a property and then repurpose it for one of their other media branches, such as Bravo or MSNBC. They might make a short version of it for release as a webisode or mobisode, sell it to an international syndicator, or release it on DVD or VOD.

  The network or cable channel may rely on independent production companies with whom they have a strong relationship and lucrative history. These companies work closely with the development executives to script, cast, shoot, and do postproduction for sitcoms, episodic dramas, reality, animated, streaming and downloadable content, and more.

  The frontier of new and emerging media is still wide open. One direction is that of talent-owned Internet content companies. Spurred on by the 2007–2008 WGA strike, a number of professional writers turned away from TV and film and moved over to the Internet to create new kinds of programming. Here, the writers generally own the copyright, and can go anywhere they want with the content. A show, for example, might debut on the Internet, supported by advertising or subscription. It creates a real viral buzz and gets enough hits to warrant taking it over to network TV. The writers form the company and own a stake in any future profits.

When pitching your project to a specific venue, be certain that it is the right fit. You wouldn't bring a soap opera to a sports channel, or a music video to an all-news channel.

  If you want to interest a production company in your idea, make sure that company has experience in, and enthusiasm for, projects like yours. You can locate production companies by watching shows you like or that are similar to your own idea; look at the show's opening and/or closing credits for the production company's logo, and then research it. What is its history? What's their success rate? Read Variety or Hollywood Reporter or go to several online resources to see what shows are in production—they list the names and addresses of the production companies involved. You can also go to www.wga.org and click on the TV market list.

  If you want to pitch your idea to a specific network or cable broadcaster, watch the programming shown on that channel. Be aware of what they may be developing for the future as well as their current programming. And if you do find an “in” to pitch your project, be really sure that your idea is well-suited to their programming history and their audience.

  If you want to create a project that engages your audience, understand who that audience is. Research projects that are similar to yours. What were their overall ratings? Who were the show's advertisers? What was the breakdown showing male/female, ages, backgrounds, incomes, education, spending habits, and other statistics? Compile real data showing that your project can generate revenue.

  Most content buyers who do agree to read your idea or take a pitch meeting will ask you to first sign what's known as a submission agreement or a release. This protects them from any claims you may have later if you think they've stolen your idea. Each organization has its own regulations. And very few will accept unsolicited material; most accept proposals or take a pitch meeting only after they have been contacted by an agent or lawyer. You can find a sample of the submission release on this book's accompanying web site.

Getting a Pitch Meeting

One consistent thread runs through most traditional development departments: they almost always work only with writers who are known commodities. These writers (and producers) have experience and credits, are usually members of the Writers Guild of America, and are reliable. Many also have specialties—one writes beautifully about family drama, another knows the worlds of medicine or the law or politics. When one of these established creatives (writer, producer, director) has a promising project idea, he or she usually:

  Calls an agent, an entertainment lawyer, or an executive in the development department of a network, a studio, or a production company for which the idea is best suited.

  Sets up a pitch meeting (see Chapter 6) in hopes of convincing everyone to commit to further development.

  Pitches the idea verbally in the meeting.

  Gives the executive a leave-behind fact sheet about the project (see Chapter 6), including story synopsis, the creative team, potential talent, and more.

  Hopes that the development executive likes the idea enough to take it to an executive further up the ladder who either approves it for further development or rejects it.

  Understands that if it is approved for development, the executive in charge works with the producer and/or writer on refining the idea. It helps if the producer is also the writer, but if not, the executive and the producer find a writer they both like. Sometimes, a showrunner is brought in at this stage to help guide the vision and hire writers.

  Is emotionally prepared if the project hits a brick wall. As part of the process, the project details are discussed by the top executives. Some might be the development heads, and others are in charge of their shows that are currently airing. These executives could have deals with producers around these existing shows that include guarantees of future buys. This means that the executives may have promised to buy more programming from the same producers who are producing their current shows. To make sure they have enough content for each TV season, they tend to overcommit to these suppliers. This translates to fewer available time slots or less money for developing new projects. But economic pressures are changing the old models; fewer pilots are being commissioned and less development money channeled toward traditional television. Instead, all eyes are looking forward to producing content for the new delivery systems.

Getting in the door to pitch your project often depends on your connections. An agent, manager, lawyer, or referral from a colleague or friend can provide an opportunity for a pitch meeting or at least a phone call. Or, you can take a chance. By researching the network, cable, or studio, or the production companies and who they produce for, you could find the right person to approach with your idea. If you send it, if he or she reads it, and if your idea is right, it could signal success. If not, focus on other opportunities for your project.

Potential buyers and development executives seldom have the autonomy, interest, and/ or funding to green light (agree to start developing) ideas from producers or writers that don't have a proven track record. However, there are venues that are more receptive to innovative projects. The recent proliferation of new markets and delivery systems has created a demand for programming that can be supplied by independent producers and production companies with exciting and compelling ideas—ideas that generate revenue.

The Role of a TV Pilot

Seeing a pitch evolve into a TV pilot can be a producer's dream come true. But the statistical chances of that pilot getting picked up to go to series are as slim as the pilot getting made in the first place. Traditionally, a pilot for a one-hour series can cost from $3 to $7 million, so out of the hundreds or even thousands of pitches heard annually by each network's development executives, only about two dozen are finally produced by each network. And of these, just five or six pilots ever make it to broadcast.

Traditionally, network and cable executives followed a programming routine: ideas usually were pitched in the fall, then rewritten, scrutinized, and recast, and the pilots finally shot in time to be presented with grand hoopla to the networks affiliates’ meetings during the May “up-front” presentations. The ones that made it through that gauntlet went into full-time summer production, filling the order just in time to premiere in early fall.

Over the last few seasons, however, all that has been changing. Some series have reversed the old order, and now debut during the summer months, or at the beginning of the new year. Many cable channels and some premium channels hear pitches, develop and shoot ideas, and air their pilots all year round. It's steadily moving toward a 52-week programming schedule.

And in today's global economy, most networks and cable channels are no longer investing significant development money into expensive pilots, going instead with short demos or animated storyboards to present their story ideas. These demos, or presentations, focus on the actors and the writing, and are a fraction of what a traditional pilot costs.

Many companies are changing the way they've always done business, limiting their orders for pilots to one or two, cutting back on their extravagant up-fronts in May, and investing more money into developing content for new cellular and online media.

The Impact of Budget on an Idea

TV is all about business. It is an industry driven by advertising or subscription revenue, and must have significant profits to survive. Although cellular and online content is still testing the waters about how best to be monetized, billions of dollars, pounds, Euros, and yen are being pumped into new media. Your idea may well translate into a business opportunity from which these content providers can profit. No matter how creative or innovative your project is, it is also a vehicle for profit.

If your project idea is expensive to produce, that's already one strike against it. A vital part of the producing process is maintaining your creative vision while operating on a tight budget. For example, if you hire union actors, you wouldn't write speaking lines that aren't necessary: an actor with a spoken line costs more than hiring an extra who says nothing. Minors under 18 must have a tutor on set, which involves extra money and paperwork. A virtual set can cost a fraction of what it takes to build and dress a real set. Each aspect of your project costs money, so look for ways to cut costs without sacrificing the quality of your story.

Basic Budget Categories

As you write and develop your idea, these main categories with their many departments are part of most projects’ budgets:

  Screenplay and/or story rights

  Talent

  Crew and equipment

  Director

  Producer(s)

  Legal rights and contracts

  Locations and sets

  Wardrobe and makeup

  Special effects

  Postproduction

  Music

  Miscellaneous items like overhead, contingencies, insurance, finance charges, etc.

  Advertising and marketing costs

Experienced writers keep their plotlines simple. Unless they have the luxury of a large budget to play with, they try to avoid storylines with complicated locations, extravagant sets, expensive stars and large casts, explosions, stunts, expensive postproduction concepts, and other extras that expand the budget. A solid story line can usually survive without them.

You've got to write what you want to produce, or at least the first few shows, because otherwise, it will pretty much be taken out of your hands. Even if you don't have the desire to be a writer, take writing classes because you should know how a script is put together, even if you are the postproduction supervisor.

Valerie Walsh, excerpt from interview in Chapter 11

ON A HUMAN LEVEL …

The writing process is painful for some people, exhilarating to others. Taking a vague idea all the way through to a producible script is a triumph when it's finally done, yet that journey comes with pressures and uncertainties. You worry that when it's read, people may not understand it, or may respond with rejection, or worse, apathy. Your calls and query letters go unanswered. It seems endless.

But just turn on your TV set, or laptop, or cell phone, and you'll see a program or show or commercial—behind it is a producer and a writer. Every project went through some form of development process and most everyone survived, intact, and only mildly bruised.

SUMMARY

Throughout this chapter, you've weighed the harsh realities of developing an idea against the promises of success that lure writers and producers into producing for television and new forms of media. In the next chapter, you will explore how these ideas translate into the real world of budgeting.

REVIEW QUESTIONS

1.  Devise a comprehensive strategy for informing yourself of current trends and producing deals in the television and new media industries.

2.  What are four good sources for story ideas?

3.  Write a vision statement for your life and another for a project idea you have. In what ways do they connect?

4.  Compare writing for television and writing for online video channels.

5.  What is your favorite television genre? Why?

6.  Write a sample five-minute scene for any genre, using a professional script format.

7.  Name five components of dialogue that you find compelling. Why?

8.  Would you rather write alone, with a partner, or as part of a writing team? Why?

9.  What is the importance of legally protecting your idea? How can you protect it?

10.  Name six major story components that could impact your budget. What are some low-budget alternatives?