There is no one way to break into writing, especially in television or film. There is no magic way to go about it, no secrets that will guarantee getting a break, but there are ways to improve the odds. Because it’s one of the things everyone asks, I’ll relate how I broke in.
I was living in Los Angeles and had managed to sell a couple of stories to Marvel Comics editor Roy Thomas, who had recently moved to L.A. One of the stories I sold was about The Fantastic Four. I began attending the monthly meetings of a group of professional comic book writers and artists. I got to know people and made friends in that circle.
One day, one of the writers I’d gotten to know passed me a tip that an animation studio called DePatie-Freleng Productions was looking for writers, especially writers who had worked on The Fantastic Four, because they were doing an animated version of the FF.
On the basis of the one comic book story, I was able to get a meeting with one of the founders of the studio, David DePatie. He was a small, dapper man with a huge antique desk and two nice, but absolutely enormous, dogs. As I sat across from him, the dogs pressed up to me, and I spent the meeting bookended between them, doing my best to get a job. Apparently, I passed the test. DePatie asked me if I knew what an animation script looked like. I said no. He tossed a script across to me to use as a template, and off I went to work on “The Diamond of Doom.” I studied and studied that script, though I was completely clueless about what the terms meant or how to create a TV script. Somehow I managed, and that led to more work with DePatie-Freleng.
Nowadays, you would certainly be expected to know what an animation script is and to have a very good spec script already written. Back then, animation scripts were so new, it was perfectly understandable not to know. Though it would be hard to re-create this type of break given today’s competitive field, my experience does contain one of the most important steps: networking.
© 2010 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
DOI: 10.1016/B978-0-240-81343-1.00001-7
If you’re a writer who already has credits in another field, such as comics or games, you should have an easier time making a lateral move into animation writing. You likely have contacts that can get you in the door, and you probably won’t have much trouble getting a meeting at an animation studio based on your other work. I would still recommend that you have one or two sample animation scripts that will show that you know how to handle the format, but it may not be necessary if your other credits are impressive enough.
If you’re brand-new, you should consider the words of Louis Pasteur: “Chance favors only the prepared mind.” No matter how much raw talent you may have, it won’t do you much good unless you are prepared to take full advantage of whatever piece of luck or opportunity comes your way. This means knowing the animation field, being familiar with what shows are on, and having some strong animation spec scripts as samples of your work for a studio exec or story editor to read when that opportunity comes along.
A script is called “spec,” or “speculative,” because you don’t actually expect to sell it. The purpose of a spec script is to show your writing chops and your ability to “get” the show you’re writing for. Remember that your primary goal is to be hired to write, whether it’s for that show or another one. Actually selling a spec script would be the cherry on the whipped cream.
There are two schools of thought about writing a spec script for a show and submitting the script to that show’s story editor or producer. One school of thought favors it because there is always at least the slim chance they could buy your script. A more predominant school of thought is that it’s a bad idea because unless your script is absolutely, positively spot-on in every respect, it’s more likely to fail. The reasoning is that the story editor or producer is judging the spec script by more-exacting standards because it’s their show and they know the characters so well. I would go with the shows you feel the most compelled to write, rather than worrying about this choice.
Choose a show that’s been on the air more than one year, is going strong, and is well known. Don’t pick a show that is so obscure that no one will know what it is. Write to your interests or strengths, meaning write spec scripts based on the genre of animation that you most want to write for. If you’re great at light humor, pick that type of show. If you’re great at hard action, pick one of those. If you’re crazy about the anime-style shows, pick an anime series. If you’re versatile, do one of each. If you write a spec script for a show that goes off the air, set it aside and write something new.
Avoid the three prime mistakes many newcomers make:
Mistake No. 1: Don’t write a story that is clearly contradicted by something that happened in the series or contradicts how the characters normally behave. Obviously, you must be very familiar with the show’s characters, tone, themes, and everything that is unique to that show. If you haven’t seen every episode, go to Internet fan sites and research the story lines, or you might even find the episode available on youtube.com or other video-streaming sites.
Mistake No. 2: Don’t write a story that causes a significant change or life upheaval for one or more of the major characters, or an event that would turn the series upside down (such as killing off a major character). Only a story editor or producer gets to write those kinds of shows. You want to write a really great, but typical stand-alone episode of the series, something that wouldn’t feel out of place if it were aired in the middle of the series’ other episodes.
Mistake No. 3: Don’t introduce a new, unknown character and build the story around that character. Stay focused on the central characters of the series. You can take a secondary character that already exists in the series and do something interesting with him or her, but make sure you have plenty of action focused on the central characters as well.
Do your best to get hold of copies of scripts for that show: (a) because it’s helpful to see what format that series uses; and (b) because sometimes the story editor or producer has some special quirk related specifically to that show. For example, in X-Men: Evolution, they used a special X-Men graphic they called the “X-Wipe” in place of a generic wipe. Not that it’s critical to know that, but it can’t hurt either.
Getting hold of animation scripts isn’t easy. They’re not commonly put out for sale. I would try a few different methods:
You’ve done your research, studied animation, written your terrific spec scripts”¦ now you network. This is the single most important activity you must engage in if you want to get the lucky break that, because you are prepared, you will be able to use to your advantage.
Animation, as with any area of scriptwriting, is a people business, so a great deal of succeeding at networking is having good social skills, strong communication skills, knowing how to interact with people, how to make a good impression, how to be witty and chatty without coming across like a sycophant, all the while subtly conveying that you’re a professional who would be fun to work with. Even if you’re not a professional yet, you want to put forth a professional attitude consisting of awareness of the business, self-confidence, enthusiasm, and pragmatism. Easy.
It’s way beyond the bounds of this book to teach you those skills, but you need to have them.
Networking is about making the business contacts any way you can, but in a way that leaves a positive impression. You must walk that fine line between putting yourself forward and being obnoxious.
Don’t restrict yourself to these methods. Be creative. Consider these as starting points, but do it any way you can.
This is not a place to shove your résumé or spec script in someone’s face. That’s the last thing a speaker wants to deal with during a busy convention, though a business card is always acceptable. However, it gives you a chance to at least meet pros and then follow up afterward in the hope they’ll remember you. Plus, the panels and lectures can be extremely informative.
In the world of live-action writing and feature writing, there are many contests that can prove an extremely good way to gain entry-level attention if you can win or place highly. Unfortunately, there’s nothing comparable in the world of animation writing. Here are some possibilities:
Although Scriptapalooza is not specifically for animation writing, at least two writers won Emmy Awards for writing animated programs after having used the Scriptapalooza TV competition to get their breaks into the industry. For more information, visit http://www.scriptapalooza.com.
Nickelodeon Animation Studios
ATTN: Nick Writing Fellowship
231 W. Olive Ave
Burbank, CA 91502
It’s also extremely important to learn as much as you can about the business in general. You need to know who produces animation, which channels air animation shows, what type of shows each channel puts on the air, and how the overseas producers of animation and the overseas market are affecting animation in the United States.
I recommend these sources:
Terry Rossio (whose long list of credits includes Pirates of the Caribbean, Shrek, The Road to El Dorado and Aladdin) put it rather succinctly: “There is no strategy that doesn’t fail over 99 percent of the time, and no strategy that is far more effective than any other. I would say it makes more sense to write a live-action screenplay, because there actually is a market for live-action screenplays!”
From everything I’ve gathered, landing a job writing an animation feature is the ultimate crapshoot. The trend is toward big-name feature writers, or someone who happens to be hot in the live-action-feature realm, or someone who already has a feature-development deal with a studio and is tapped for an animated feature under that deal (in other words, the studio is already committed to paying them to write a feature, so they may as well write an animation feature).
The studios are not open to an unknown walking through the door to pitch an idea for an animation feature. The exception to that would be that you’ve created or own the rights to a property that the studio is dying to have. A highly successful children’s book (preferably a series of them), for example. This is still no guarantee that you would be offered the chance to write the script, unless you have a strong script sample or other credits that would convince them.
Far too often, I’m asked by someone with no credits or experience how to sell a series. It’s hard enough for established pros to sell a series. However, there are some general guidelines and things you need to know if you want to attempt to sell a series or property at some stage in your career.
First, you will need to create a pitch bible.
Every series has a bible. In reality, there are actually two different kinds of bibles, and they serve two different purposes. Though their purposes are different, the bibles contain the same basic elements. Those two kinds of bibles are the PITCH BIBLE and the SHOW BIBLE (or series bible, or writers’ bible).
THE PITCH BIBLE: This is a short version of the bible, no more than maybe ten to twelve double-spaced pages, often with large type and lots of white space, and often with sample artwork—in other words, designed to be a very quick and exciting read with the purpose of selling the series idea. A pitch bible must be written entirely with one thing in mind—that you are selling how exciting and fresh and fantastic your idea is.
THE SHOW BIBLE: If you’re being hired to develop a bible for a show that is a definite go, the bible will be intended primarily for the writers who will work on the show. When I do that kind of bible, I use single-spacing, I get into detail, and I don’t worry so much about length. It still needs to be a good read, of course, but your purpose in this case is to make sure the writers have enough information about the show to go off and write the appropriate scripts.
I’ve also heard mention of the so-called MINIBIBLE, which usually just means they want to pay you half the price to write a smaller version of a regular bible. Be wary of someone asking for a “minibible.” Clarify what they really want, and don’t let shortness be an excuse for cheapness.
It’s not unusual for the pitch bible to end up being the show bible/writers’ bible, with perhaps a few extra pages of info added. Those extra pages are usually from the story editor, dealing with production details (such as “keep the length to between thirty-three and thirty-four pages”), or giving specific guidelines about the show (such as “we don’t want time-travel stories” or “it’s a fantasy show, so don’t use modern slang”), or whatever else the writers need to know that might not have been covered by the pitch bible.
It’s also not unusual for a show bible on a new series to be rewritten even while you’re in the middle of doing a script. There can be a lot of last-minute and ongoing adjustments to a show that’s in development. You need to be flexible and go with the changes.
In the live-action world, a bible or a proposal for a series is called a format. This is due to the specific language used in the WGA’s Minimum Basic Agreement.
A more or less standard format has developed that calls for these elements:
Bear in mind that these are only guidelines. The basic elements should be present in the bible, but how you present them and how it’s all put together can vary tremendously. Each writer who creates a bible will develop a personal style and approach. Some writers like to use larger type and bold emphasis on certain passages or words to make them stand out. Some writers like to get into a lot of story description; others stick with generalities. The main thing in a pitch bible is to have plenty of white space (no pages crammed with tight rows of text) and a fast, engrossing read.
You will find an example of a pitch bible at www.christymarx.info.
This issue gets a lot of debate among writers, and there is no easy answer. Many people will swear that having artwork is a must. Having a hot, popular artist do the artwork might be an asset if you aren’t that well known yourself. On the other hand, I’ve heard a studio executive tell me that he’d rather not see artwork—because if he doesn’t like the art, it might turn him off to the whole idea. I’ve also, however, encountered studio executives who had no interest in the written work and wanted to see only images. It’s the luck of the draw, and there’s no way to predict it.
It might be that you have a truly special approach to the look of the show, and showing what the look will be might be vital to selling your idea.
Or, if you’re working from an established property, you may have art that is already associated with that property. This is ideal.
One thing is certain: if it isn’t good, professional-grade, quality art, don’t use it. Far better to have no art at all than to have poor or obviously amateur art. You’d better study enough animation art to know the difference.
Finding an artist is another issue. Can you afford to pay someone? Or would you have to find someone who would be willing to work for free? Free generally implies someone young, such as an art student, who is willing to do the art in order to get exposure.
You could attend comic book conventions, where both professional and aspiring artists abound. You could go to local colleges or art schools that have illustration or graphic-design classes and connect with students there. You could contact schools that specialize in teaching comic book art, such as The Joe Kubert School of Cartoon and Graphic Art, Inc. (http://www.kubertsworld.com/kubertschool/KubertSchool.htm). You could also to your local comic book store and inquire about really good local artists.
If you’re paying a professional artist, have a signed, written agreement that specifies that you retain all rights to your work. You should also at least offer to use your best efforts to get the artist work on the show if it should sell.
If you have someone working for free, definitely have a signed, written agreement that clearly states that you retain all rights to your work (but not to the artist’s work), and that you have free use of the artwork. However, you should work out a payment for the artist if the show should sell, as well as offering to use your best efforts to get the artist work on the show.
You can’t make hard and fast guarantees to get an artist work on a show (that would usually not be under your control), so be careful to phrase it as “best efforts” or a similar term.
The most difficult thing to sell in today’s market is an original concept. You have a better shot at selling an established property—whether it’s a published children’s book, a comic book, a computer game, or a toy. Marv Wolfman and Craig Miller (jointly as Wolfmill Productions) produced an animation show based on a line of popular sculptures, The Pocket Dragons.
However, you can do this only if you have legally obtained the rights from the creator or owner of the property to make this adaptation. I’ve encountered far too many people who want to write a script based on some big property, thinking they can somehow magically sell it and then somehow equally magically get the rights. Put this notion entirely out of your head. With a very big IP (intellectual property), something major such as Batman or G.I. Joe, the studio or company that owns the rights will want to have it developed and written by well-known people with strong credits and status in the field. They won’t turn over such an important property to an unknown.
But let’s say it’s something not as well known that has potential. You have to option the property first. This means a signed contract that clearly spells out what rights are being granted, what you’re paying or offering in return, and the time period allowed for you to sell the idea. You would want to have an option for at least two years. These things take more time than you might think.
The trick with optioning an established property is (a) beating out people with bigger reps, more power, and more money than you; and (b) having the means to buy an option and pay a lawyer to draw up an option agreement. If you’re very lucky, you might be able to work out a deal that doesn’t involve money up front, but you can’t shortcut having a professional written agreement. To do it on the cheap, you could try to find a sample option agreement on the Net, but you’d better know a lot about intellectual-property law, copyright law, and trademark law first. Otherwise, you need to use an attorney who specializes in intellectual-property and/or copyright law. Sometimes they’re called entertainment attorneys.
Alternatively, you can take your original concept and try to get it made in some other format first, such as putting out a comic book, or putting it on the Internet as a Web comic or Flash animation. To protect yourself, first register your copyright with the U.S. Copyright Offce (http://www.copyright.gov).
Whatever you decide to pitch, it will need to be so extraordinary, so unique, so special that it can grab the attention of studio or production executives who have hundreds, if not thousands, of ideas pitched at them year in and year out. Believe me, they’ve heard it all. You will need to be good at delivering a quick, coherent, cohesive, and interesting verbal pitch of your idea. You must be thoroughly prepared for any question they might throw at you, which means having your concept fleshed out enough to cover anything they could want to know about it, possibly beyond what is in the pitch bible. If the exec expresses interest, you can leave them a written version (often referred to as a “leave-behind”).
Then, if the gods smile upon you, you may get a development deal and be paid money to continue working toward developing your idea into a full-fledged series. This is often known as “development hell.” Bear in mind that studios develop many more projects than they actually make. They might develop dozens of ideas for only a handful of series openings.
There is the obstacle of even getting in the door to pitch an idea to someone. Your strongest chance lies in having a list of animation credits to your name, and an agent who can make the call to set the pitch meeting.
If you have strong credits in a related field—such as comics, games, or children’s books—or if you have an established property, you might still be able to pitch your concept, but you may not be considered as a candidate to write the show if you don’t have animation-writing credits. One alternative is to write the pilot episode or a sample episode as part of your presentation in order to show that have a grasp of writing an animation script. Of course, your sample had better be a very good script, or it could have the opposite effect. It’s still likely they’ll want to pair you up with an experienced animation producer and story editor whom they trust.
Without an agent or someone with connections to do it for you, you would have to make a cold call to the studio, network, or company to ask for a meeting. Your first step is to watch a lot of animation to determine which studio/network/channel is producing the type of animated show you want to pitch. In today’s market, that narrows it down to only a few places such as Disney, Nickelodeon, and the Cartoon Network. Research them on the internet, find out where they’re located, and try to get the names of their development executives. The title will be something along the lines of Director of Development, VP of Development, VP Creative Affairs, Senior VP Original Programming, and so on. If you want to pitch comedy, you want to make sure you get to the development executive who handles comedy rather than action-adventure, because these jobs are sometimes divided into genres.
If you make the call yourself and ask for the executive’s offce, you will end up dealing with an assistant. The assistant’s job is to be the gatekeeper—to weed out unwanted calls and make sure any calls that get through are valid business. The best thing you can do is win the goodwill of this assistant, who is very important to you in getting anywhere. Be unfailingly polite and professional. Have a clear and concise explanation of who you are and what you want. If the assistant deems you worth consideration, the odds are high that you will first be requested to send a query letter and material for evaluation. Be prepared to do that, and confirm that you have the proper mailing address. If they request you to sign a release form, do so. It’s a standard legal method of protecting themselves.
Keep your query letter short and to the point. Remind them that you spoke by phone and that the material was requested, so they don’t think it’s an unsolicited submission. Don’t waste a lot of time in a query letter trying to describe the property or do a big sales job. Give just enough to get a taste of who you are and what you’re offering, and let the material speak for itself. If you want your material back, include a stamped, self-addressed envelope. Otherwise, indicate that the material doesn’t need to be returned.
Wait three to four weeks for a reply. If you don’t hear anything, place a very polite follow-up phone call to inquire. This will take patience, because it could take a long time for the exec (usually surrounded by reading material up to their eyebrows) to get to your material. If you hit the bull’s-eye, then you might be invited to come in and have a face-to-face meeting. It’s a long shot, but my attitude is: the worst they can do is say no.
One of the frequent questions about animation is “Do I need an agent?” Although I wouldn’t say it’s absolutely necessary for animation in the way it is to write for live action, I strongly recommend getting an agent. An agent gives you legitimacy. It immediately says to a potential employer that you’ve gotten through a significant gate that separates the amateur from the professional.
Having an agent also allows you to keep clear of the negotiating and money end of things, which is what you want. Let the agent run interference for any problems that come up, so that you remain above the fray.
Back when I started out, I had no animation agent for the simple reason that television and film agents dealt only with live-action and either had no awareness of animation or didn’t consider it worth the effort.
Then Candace Monteiro, who formed what is now the Monteiro Rose Dravis Agency, had the brilliant idea to gather up all those loose animation writers for representation. For a long time, this resulted in Candace’s repping the majority of animation writers. Gradually, other agents and agencies realized there was something to be had here, but the overall pool of agents who specifically handle animation today is still rather small.
Probably the best way to determine who the current agents are is via the online database set up by the WGA’s Department of Organizing. Go to http://www.wga. org, click on if you’re an employer, click on find a writer, and enter the names of an animation writer whose credits you’ve seen on the screen. If that writer is listed in the WGA database, it will show his or her agent and contact information. Do that for enough writers, and you will begin to see the same agent names showing up consistently. This will give you a good place to start.
Also, there is a general list of agents at wga.org. Click on writer’s resources, then click on agency list. It’s a good idea to double-check an agent here to make sure they’re legitimate.
Getting an agent to read your spec script is the next hurdle. Do not send an unsolicited script to an agent. It will most likely be returned unread. Many of these agents have as many clients as they feel comfortable handling, and may not be open to taking on a new person. The task is to find one who will be open to at least reading your spec. Never pay a fee to have an agent read your script. Anyone who asks for a reading fee is not someone you want to deal with.
Your best bet is to get a personal recommendation, either from someone already represented by that agent, or from someone (such as a producer, director, or story editor) who has read your script and liked it enough to recommend you to an agent. This gets back to the value of networking and personal connections. A personal connection of some sort will get you the agent’s attention more effectively than coming in cold.
If you don’t have that sort of personal connection, your first step is to send a query letter or email. As with any query, keep it short, simple, and to the point. Agents have highly attuned b.s. detectors, so keep it factual. Explain who you are, list any pertinent accomplishments (college degree, work in other media, winning contests, and so on), and ask whether the agent would be kind enough to read one of your spec scripts. Be patient. After a few weeks, follow up with a polite inquiry. If you never get an answer back, strike that one off your list and keep going.
A licensed script agent’s commission is 10 percent. Avoid anyone who wants more. If you happen upon someone calling himself a manager, check carefully into his credentials. Whom else does he manage? What has he accomplished for his clients? Managers are not held to the same licensing standards as agents, and they can charge whatever commission they want. Anything over 15 percent, however, is questionable.
If you want to or choose to proceed without an agent, consider using an entertainment attorney when you need a deal negotiated or a contract finalized.
You’re going to pay at least $250 to $350 an hour, so be prepared for that. Those hours can pile up quickly. Work out ahead of time exactly what you can afford. State that very clearly to the lawyer, and stick to it. In some instances, a lawyer might consider handling you for a commission instead, but usually only if that lawyer considers you a good prospect to be a long-term, high-earning client.
The worst mistake any writer can make is to think, “Great, I’ve got an agent. Now I can kick back, relax, let the agent get the jobs, and wait for the phone to ring.” Certainly, a good agent will be putting your name out and scouting for work, but you must continue to network, promote, get scripts out there, and do everything you can to bring in the work.
Agents are not the magic answer to success. An agent is a calling card, a confidant, an adviser, a negotiator, and a money collector. But you must bring in the work, using any and all techniques that you would utilize without an agent.
Be positive and honest in your dealings with your agent. It’s a professional partnership that needs to be nurtured from both sides. Remember that you are not your agent’s sole client. Your agent won’t be calling you every day or every week, maybe not even every month. You should stay in touch regularly with little reminders that you exist. That doesn’t mean pestering your agent every day, but once every couple of weeks is a good idea. Having new material or bits of good news will help keep your agent excited about repping you, and gives the agent something to work with when putting your name out.
Ideally, you will have an agent who will handle all negotiations, contractual affairs, and payments. If you’re new to the business and perhaps have just gotten an agent, I will share the primary rule that my first agent quickly drummed into my head with a sledgehammer: never, never, NEVER talk money. Always let your agent handle the money discussions. The agent’s job is to get you the best money possible. Your job is to do the writing. Keep those things separate.
If you don’t have an agent, consider using an entertainment lawyer, as mentioned earlier, and let the lawyer talk money. If you insist on doing it yourself, it will be up to you to handle the contract; to find out from the company to whom, when, and how you send an invoice; and to follow up on getting paid.
Don’t expect to get rich writing animation. There are exceptions (as in any business), those exceptions being people covered by a WGA agreement or who have the clout to command large money.
The dirty secret of the majority of television-series animation is that animation writers are making about the same fees as they made in the 1980s. There has been virtually no improvement; in fact, and in some cases, it’s gotten worse.
Back in the mid-1980s, getting $6,000 for a half-hour script was considered terrific money. But how many people do you know whose income has barely budged in twenty years? Two decades later, some shows pay only $5,000 per half hour. Anything less than that (for a half-hour show) should be considered completely unacceptable.
What a company or studio pays depends on how big or how successful they are and what market they operate in. The smaller, independent studios, foreign coproduction, or the company doing syndicated animation can’t afford to pay as well as a major studio, network, or big cable channel.
For half-hour fees, the average low end is between $5,000 and $6,000; the average high end is between $7,000 and $8,000. Writing a pilot can earn you anywhere from $10,000 to $15,000. Some writers with sufficient clout have gotten more, but that was the general range as of the time this book was written.
There will also be no residuals (additional payments for repeat airings of the episode) and no royalties from DVD sales or anything else unless the show is covered by the WGA.
Which means it’s time to talk about unions.
There are two labor organizations that deal with animation writers: the Writers Guild of America (WGA), and IATSE Local 839 (The Animation Guild). This is an especially tricky and complicated topic, due to the history of animation development and the quirks of federal labor law governing unions.
As you may recall in my brief opening chapter on animation history, actual scriptwriters entered the process very late when the needs of television required writers in addition to storyboard artists, or “gagmen.” Consequently, there were no writers taken into account by the two unions involved until very much after the fact, by which time the animation business was set in its ways and had no interest in seeing animation writers get the benefits of union protection.
Without the protection of a union, animation writers were (and are) subject to a great many abuses. Typical abuses include the following:
Along with many of my fellow writers, I have been part of a fight going on for more than twenty years to achieve WGA union protection for animation writers. We are finally making inroads in this tough battle, but we still have a long way to go.
The Screen Writers Guild was formed in 1933, reorganized into the Writers Guild of America, west and Writers Guild of America, East in 1954 (members living west of the Mississippi River belong to the WGAw, and members living east of that boundary belong to the WGAE). The early union was focused on the only game in town at the time—live-action movies. Because animation of the time was created by artists, it was excluded from later bargaining negotiations. Coverage for television was included much later.
The document that lays out every detail concerning how scriptwriters are paid and treated is the MBA (Minimum Basic Agreement). The MBA covers what the minimum payment will be to the writer. Minimum payment is known as scale (example: “My agent negotiated a deal that was scale plus 10 percent”). The minimum payments for any project are based on several factors, such as:
The MBA also covers how writing credits are determined, what the residuals will be (a residual is a payment that is made each time a TV show is rerun), rules on how writers have to be treated, provisions for arbitration in case a credit is disputed, payments to cover health and pension, and a myriad of other details designed to protect the rights and interests of writers. The MBA is renegotiated every three years.
When a studio or company signs the MBA, they become signatories to that agreement, meaning they are legally bound to abide by these rules in every detail. Although the company must pay no less than the minimum amount set out in the MBA, it’s up to your agent, lawyer, or you to negotiate a higher price, if you can. There is no upper limit to how much you can be paid.
Most movie and television production entities that produce live action are signatories to the MBA, but until fairly recently there were among the signatories few studios or companies that produced exclusively animation. Because scriptwriters became a serious factor in the animation process only in the 1960s, it wasn’t until around the 1980s that we began the first serious efforts to be covered by the WGAw. I won’t go into the tedious details (which is a book in itself), but we found ourselves up against two major obstacles. One was the tangled complications of federal labor law that governs how guilds and unions can operate. The other—no surprise—was (and is) stiff resistance by the animation companies and studios.
In the early 1990s, I joined the Steering Committee of the newly established Animation Writers Caucus. The WGAw formed this caucus as a means for organizing and representing animation writers under the guild. For a minimal fee (waived if you already belong to the WGA), anyone who has written the equivalent of a half hour of produced animation can join the AWC. A member of the AWC is considered an associate member of the WGAw, which provides certain benefits that include receiving Written By magazine, all guild mailings, the AWC newsletter, access to the credit union, reduced member rate for registering scripts, joining the WGA Film Society, and access to an alternative health plan. The AWC arranges panels, awards, and other events.
Most importantly, the AWC, under the auspices of the WGAw, works to bring animation writers fully into the WGAw by having studios or companies sign the MBA.
I had the pleasure to work on the first animation series covered by a WGA agreement, Pocket Dragon Adventures, in 1997. The first show fully covered by the MBA was the primetime animated series The PJs in 1998. Since then, more shows have been organized and have become signatories to the MBA, though nearly all of them are primetime series. This is because of what I said earlier about primetime animation shows being written mostly by sitcom and live-action writers who are accustomed to writing as WGA members and expect to have those rights, benefits, and protections.
In 2004, an agreement was put into place between the WGA, IATSE Local 839 (see below), and eight companies: Adelaide Productions, Cartoon Network Studios, DreamWorks SKG, Fox Television Animation, Sony Pictures Animation, Universal Cartoon Studios, Walt Disney Pictures and Walt Disney Television Animation, and Warner Bros. Animation. The eight companies/studios have agreed that they must give notice to writers with their first monetary proposal as to which union (WGA or 839) will cover the writing work. The writer can then request that her work be covered by a WGA agreement, or, at the very least, receive WGA equivalent benefits (meaning payments to health and pension, credit arbitration, residuals, and so forth).
If you are hired by a company or studio that is not one of these eight, you need to request WGA coverage yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask!
The important thing to know about all of this is that should you ever find yourself in a position of power or have the necessary clout, you should fight to have your show done as a signatory to the WGA. To get help in doing this, contact the WGAw Organizing Department at 323-782-4511.
Having worked in live action as a WGA writer and in animation without the benefit of the WGA, I cannot emphasize enough how important this struggle is. The WGA is the right home for animation writers. We must make that happen.
The cartoonists union began as the Commercial Artists and Designers Union, which won their first contract after a courageous strike in 1937. This was followed by a Screen Cartoonists Guild in Hollywood and numerous battles to organize the artists and animators at major studios such as Disney and Warner Bros.
In 1951, the animators voted to join the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees (IATSE), and a year later they became Local 839 under IATSE. More recently, Local 839 has renamed itself The Animation Guild (TAG).
Local 839 covers layout artists, ink and paint artists, 2D and 3D animators, storyboard artists, and other related categories. Because there were no actual scriptwriters early on, the people who came up with story were simply called “story men.” And by the odd manner in which writing developed in animation, the people writing animation fell under this category of “story men” (later “story persons”). Thus, rather by accident, Local 839 has ended up with scriptwriters (now at least referred to as “animation writers”) within the body of union members who are otherwise working in the art end of the business.
If you get a job to write for a show that is covered by Local 839 and you are unable to get WGA representation instead, you will need to pay an initiation fee and dues to Local 839. Depending on what you earn, you may also be eligible for health insurance, and there will be payments made to a pension and welfare plan. There are, however, no individually paid residuals in the manner of the WGA.
In the United States, if you want to break into animation writing in a serious way, you need to be in Los Angeles. That is still where the bulk of animation development is done, where the major studios are, and where most of the work originates. This is also where you need to be to meet the people who hire writers and to do personal networking.
There are some animation companies in San Francisco and New York City, and those would be other possibilities to explore, provided those companies actually hire writers. In many cases, the animation company provides the art while the scripts come from somewhere else—for example, L.A.
There is independent animation production being done elsewhere, such as in Florida, but the trick once again is to find places that hire writers. If you’re in Canada, you need to go to the major centers of animation production— Vancouver or Toronto.
Finally, there is the overseas factor. More and more animation is being done using coproduction financing from studios in France, Britain, Ireland, Australia, Korea, Japan, China, India, Taiwan, and elsewhere. There’s no easy, straightforward way for an American to get work for those companies. It would once again be a matter of networking. If you live overseas, however, you would be advised to find out where the largest producers of animation are in your country, and then move to that location. Your goal would be to meet people at that company who can hire you, and you need to be close enough physically to do that.
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