Hey, folks—

I wanted to spend today responding to CC’s Pitch Workshop submission for her one-hour TV dramedy, Sarah Weekly.

First of all—thanks again to CC for submitting to this!  Whether you’re pitching Steven Spielberg, a low-level TV exec, or just looking for critical feedback, it’s never easy putting your ideas out there in the world to be judged, so I applaud you—and everyone else who has participated in the Pitch Workshop—for sticking your neck out.  (The Pitch Workshop is also one of my favorite parts of this blog, so double-thanks to all of you… as well as future submitters!)

Second of all, thanks to everyone who has given CC feedback.  I’m sure she appreciates it, and I love seeing chatter and activity in Script Notes’ comment section.

It looks like you’ve gotten some terrific feedback and lots of positive responses, CC, so I hope it’s been helpful!  

For those of you who haven’t read the original post, here’s CC’s idea…

Logline: "Sarah Weekly" is a light-hearted drama that follows 30-year-old Sarah Neel as she tries to navigate a path to a new life with her weekly horoscope as her guide.
 
Synopsis: The morning of her 30th birthday Sarah Sofia Neel had a nice life: nice boyfriend, nice job, nice apartment. By noon, all that's left is her 30th birthday. When Sarah finds a weekly horoscope that seems to have warned of her life's recent upheaval, she wonders what else her horoscope might be able to reveal. With some weekly insight into what's ahead, Sarah tries to build a new life more fulfilling than the one she had before. Along the way, she learns that life has a reason for everything -- and everyone -- it puts in your path.

So, here are my thoughts and suggestions to add to the pile…

WHAT I LIKE:
As everyone else has pointed out, I think you’re tapping into some really fertile narrative and emotional territory.  Chick-lit TV is incredibly popular right now, from the original godmother of Sex and the City to hit broadcst shows like Samantha WhoGrey’s Anatomy and to failed shows like Cashmere Mafia and Lipstick Jungle… and even Showtime’s Secret Diary of a Call Girl.  And as Matt points out in his comment to your submission, last February ABC Family acquired Sophie, CBC’s show about a young talent agent.  So I think you’re playing in a rich, lucrative sandbox.

You also have a fun hook in Sarah’s weekly horoscopes… they’re kind of your version of Meredith’s thematic voice-over that bookends each episode of Grey’s Anatomy.  So you’re off to a good start!


WHAT I THINK YOU SHOULD WORK ON:
Obviously, CC, as the comments to your submission indicate, people are responding to the “horoscope framework” of your show idea, both the chick-lit territory and the narrative device of the weekly horoscopes.  But to be honest, I think your series, or at least your pitch, is still missing the one thing it really needs to get sold, and that is…

Who the hell is Sarah Sofia Neel?

That’s the one thing producers and executives really want and need to know… and it’s the bedrock of your entire series.  After all, no one is going to tune in to see a weekly horoscope… the horoscopes are merely a device, a gimmick (albeit a good one), to introduce each episode’s theme or story.  People are going to tune in because they relate to, root for, invest in, and—quite literally—fall in love with Sarah Neel.  (…in the same way that no one tunes into Grey’s Anatomy to hear Meredith’s thematic bookends and learn her “lesson of the week”; they tune in because they understand and relate to Meredith Grey.  Her desires, passions, fears and frustrations mirror the emotional experiences of her viewers.  In other words: in Meredith, viewers see some kind of representation of themselves… and if she’s not exactly the same person as all her viewers, she’s someone they hate… or would like to be… or fear becoming.  She is, somehow, an extension of some part of her viewers’ emotional lives.  Thus, you would never pitch Grey’s Anatomy by focusing on her voice-over and the beginning and end of each show; you’d focus on truly bringing to life the character of Meredith Grey.)

So while all the little tidbits of Sarah’s backstory (losing her boyfriend, job, and apartment) are interesting, and they certainly help usher us into Sarah’s story, your most important task in this pitch is to let us get to know Sarah as intimately as possible in the short time you have.

And by “get to know,” I do NOT mean telling us her hometown or her favorite food or the name of her cat or what she has for breakfast on Saturday mornings.  

What I mean is… you need to give your pitch’s audience a crystal-clear sense of how this woman sees the world.  Is Sarah a starry-eyed optimist, who—even when her job, her home, and her boyfriend are ripped away—forges ahead undaunted?  Is she a broody cynic who believes the world is a dark, dangerous place where each day is simply a battle for survival?  Does she view life as a game, a vicious race to some undetermined finish line… and the prize goes only to those who aren’t afraid to do whatever it takes to win?  

Maybe Sarah sees herself as a victim, an unwitting mark in some cruel cosmic joke, and she must learn to grow a spine and take charge of her own destiny.  Or perhaps she views life as a cutthroat war… a war in which she has always been a cunning and ruthless warrior… and the loss of her job/apartment/boyfriend is a wake up call that tells her she needs to find some heart and compassion.  Or she’s always been a devout atheist who believes solely in free will… until—just after she loses all that’s important to her—she stumbles across these uncannily accurate horoscopes… and must suddenly re-evaluate and re-strategize her life.

I’m not saying any of these suggestions is right for you, Sarah, or the show… I’m just saying that whomever this character is, you need to know it and articulate it to us, your audience.  And this isn’t simply a matter of listing adjectives or boiling her down to a few short sentences; it’s a matter of understanding her at the deepest level.

Think of people who are close to you in your life: your parents, your sister, your husband or boyfriend, you best buddy, your college roommate, etc.  If I were to ask you to think of any of them in certain situations, you would probably know IMMEDIATELY how they would behave.  How would your mother act if you asked her to loan you $10,000?  How does your sister behave on a first date?  Who’s the first person your husband/boyfriend would call if you told him you’d cheated on him?  What would your best friend say if she met her favorite rock star?  Where would your roommate go immediately after learning she was failing out of school?

I’m guessing most of these answers were gut reactions—you know these people so well the answers barely need thinking about.  This isn’t because you know all their favorite bands or least favorite movies… it’s because you know how they see the world.  You know that your mom views the world as an obstacle course of deadly dangers… and her job is simply to protect those she loves.  You know that your husband or boyfriend views the world as a constant party… and his job is to never grow up and have as much fun as possible.  You know your best girlfriend views the world as a façade… a gigantic illusion where common people falsely believe they have purpose and free will, when—in reality—we’re all just pawns of the rich and powerful.

TV characters work the same way.  The Office’s Michael Scott views his Dunder Mifflin branch as his family and he’s the father... even though he's totally unaware that he's a manchild who lacks the maturity to actually lead.  Prison Break’s Michael Scofield views the world, or society, as a chessboard on which there are clearly two sides—good and evil—and society’s rules can be twisted, bent, or broken as long as it’s done in the name of good (the lines he’ll never cross, however, are betraying those close to him: Lincoln, Sucre, Sara, etc.).

This is how well you need to know Sarah Neel.  Now, I’m guessing you know some of this—and maybe more than you think—you simply haven’t articulated it in the pitch.  But based on the framework of your series, here are some personal, emotional, and thematic areas I’d explore to help find some insight into who Sarah Neel is…

•  OTHER PEOPLE IN SARAH’S LIFE.  Characters are defined not only by who they are as individuals—by how they, as individuals, see the world—but also by their relationships with other people.  Who are the most important people in Sarah Neel’s life… and how does she relate to them?  Her brother, an arrogant womanizer whom she views as lazy child?  Her mom, a mid-fifties wannabe actress who has always acted more like a girlfriend than a genuine parent?  Her father, a money-grubbing workaholic who views children as annoying (but necessary) appendages?  Her old boss, who sees every employee—female OR male—as a potential sexual conquest?

Think about the other people who populate Sarah Neel’s world.  They’ll not only be essential parts of the series; they’ll be essential parts of the pitch.  Think about how each of them sees the world in their own unique way.  How does Sarah feel about each particular person.  How do their world-views clash?  How does Sarah NEED each of these people… and vice versa?  How is Sarah vulnerable in a unique way around each of these characters?  What would Sarah tell each person that she wouldn’t tell any of the others?

•  THE HOROSCOPES.  While the horoscopes are indeed a strong hook, they also raise certain inescapable questions about how you (the storyteller) and Sarah view life, free will, destiny, etc.  It’s not enough just to say that Sarah gets “weekly insight” from her horoscope.  How does she view these weekly insights… and what does her feeling about the horoscopes say about her larger world-view?  For instance, is Sarah a snarky non-believer in all things metaphysical… until the horoscopes start proving themselves true?  Is she a dogmatic believer who blindly follows each horoscope’s advice… thus constantly finding herself in awkward and hilarious misadventures?  Or is she a pragmatic skeptic who believes the horoscopes aren’t divine advice, but the brainchild of a kindred spirit… and if she can meet the man writing them, she’ll find her soulmate?

Whatever you decide, I think you’ll find that Sarah Neel’s attitude toward the horoscopes—and all the issues surrounding horoscopes: fate, pre-determination, karma, etc.—reveal a lot about who Sarah is and she sees the larger picture of her world.

•  WHERE DO YOU WANT SARAH TO END UP?  What’s her personal/emotional journey?  And while she may not (in fact, almost definitely WILL not, if your show makes it on the air) actually end up where you initially envision her, thinking about where you’d like her to go often helps illuminate the central questions and issues of her life.  For instance, if you know you’d like her to go from homeless, jobless, and partner-less to having her own husband, a sexy husband, and an enormous mansion, you can start to realize the emotional and narrative steps it’ll take to get her there.  But those steps and lessons are different than if you want Sarah to wind up remaining single (but realizing she can survive on her own), struggling in her career (yet enjoying the challenges), and in a tiny one-bedroom house (which she bought with her own meager savings).  And THOSE emotional steps are different than if you want Sarah to start off with a successful career, a knock-out boyfriend, and a killer townhouse… then lose it all and wind up alone, penniless, and sleeping in a gutter.

When you’re actually pitching this to producers or executives, you probably won’t tell them where you think Sarah’s journey (and the series) will end—in fact, having your series pitch that choreographed can hurt your chances of selling it—but it WILL help you zero in on the core pillars of who Sarah is… and, therefore, how she sees the world around her.


Anyway, CC, I hope this is helpful feedback.  As your other readers have clearly pointed out, you are off to a great start… you’ve created a terrific device to get in and out of your stories… you have the seeds of a vibrant character and a wonderful world… and I think you’re well on yor way to fleshing out a terrific hit series!

As for the rest of you (and CC, too)—thanks for all your feedback… and please CLICK HERE and offer some supportive criticism for our latest entry in the Script Notes Pitch Workshop: Wendy’s sitcom pitch for Three-Two-One.

Talk to you all soon!

Chad

Hey, folks—

I wanted to take a few minutes today to weigh in on what everyone seems to talking about this week… NBC’s announcement that Jay Leno is moving to primetime (10 p.m. PST) with a new nightly talk show (tentatively titled The Jay Leno Show) that will mimic his Tonight Show format, which is being taken over and revamped by Conan O’Brien.

I’ve heard a lot of complaining and criticism about the decision, especially from others writers, but I gotta say…

I think it’s a smart move.  Maybe a really smart move.

Here are the basic criticisms of NBC’s decision…

•  It reduces the number of primetime hours NBC has to program, from 22 to 17 (meaning less time for scripted comedies and dramas that could air at 10 p.m., like E.R.)

•  It could hurt local TV stations by reducing their hours of scripted programming

•  It’s a move designed to save NBC’s floundering financials, rather than actually foster quality original programming

•  It hurts Conan by forcing him and Jay to compete for guests, also diluting The Tonight Show brand

•  The last time a primetime strip (daily show) was tried—with ABC’s Who Wants To Be A Millionaire—they exhausted the brand and decimated their primetime lineup

•  It’s a desperate band-aid which can only fix a symptom, not a systemic NBC problem (that being NBC’s near-total failure to develop any successful new scripted shows)


Now, there’s some definite truth in many of these criticisms, but I think—for the most part—they’re unfair and inaccurate.  But before we look at exactly why, it’s important to understand where NBC is right now, financially, creatively, and commercially.

Basically… NBC is in trouble.  BIG trouble.  Over the last decade, they’ve fallen from their perch as the most successful and powerful network in television history to fourth place.  The hit shows of the ‘90’s and early 2000’s—Friends, Seinfeld, E.R., Frasier, Will & Grace, The West Wing—are all but gone.  Last year, NBC-Universal CEO Jeff Zucker fired NBC president Kevin Reilly for developing too many shows that were critical darlings but not commercial successes (you know, like 30 Rock, The Office, and Friday Night Lights).  Zucker replaced Reilly with Ben Silverman, a cocky agent-cum-producer who developed The Office and Ugly Betty… but had no experience working at a network.  Since then, Silverman hasn’t given NBC a single hit, driving its ratings further into the ground.

Now, to be fair, ALL the broadcast networks are floundering.  Ratings are down, ad revenue is plummeting, and every one is starting to sweat.  Meanwhile, cable networks are nipping at their heels, and the Internet is threatening to wipe out both broadcast AND cable technologies, completely revamping the way our TV sets receive content.

To make matters worse for NBC, however, Peacock execs decided four years ago to replace The Tonight Show host Jay Leno with Conan O’Brien in 2009, feeling they needed a younger, “hipper” audience.  Unfortunately, for NBC, Leno’s ratings have remained high… and as soon as Hollywood learned Leno had been set free, rival networks and studios came calling.  Zucker claimed he would do his best to keep Leno at NBC, but Leno did little to hide his anger at NBC brass…

Until this week, when NBC made their surprise announcement, claiming the Leno-to-10-PM move was a win-win for everyone, allowing NBC to keep Leno… and bolster its primetime lineup.

So let’s go through the move point-by-point and look at the criticisms levied by its naysayers…

•  REDUCING THE NUMBER OF PRIMETIME HOURS NBC HAS TO PROGRAM.  
This simply isn’t accurate.  What IS true is that in this weak economy, Jeff Zucker, the CEO of NBC-Universal, and the heads of the other broadcast networks, have publicly contemplated reducing the number of primetime hours each network needs to program.  Right now, most of the big broadcasters program several hours of TV each day, including about 3 hours of primetime and a handful of late night and daytime.  The rest of each day’s hours are programmed by individual local stations that get paid to broadcast their network headquarters’ shows.  If a network WERE to reduce the number of hours it programs, giving some hours back to the local stations to program themselves, it would reduce the network’s costs (by shrinking the money it’s pumping into buying new shows) and reduce the amount of money it pays affiliates to air its content.

So yes… reducing its number of primetime hours would be a cost-saving move by a network.  But that’s not what this is.  NBC still owns all its primetime real estate; it’s simply filling five hours of it with talk show programming instead of traditional scripted programming.  Now, sure—this may be a step toward reducing the number of hours it programs… and Zucker has been a proponent of doing that… but it hasn’t actually happened yet.

Having said that, The Jay Leno Show WILL be significantly cheaper than any primetime scripted show NBC could program.  Primetime scripted programming usually costs about $3 million per hour; so the five hours NBC is revamping would total about $15 million per week.  This new Leno show will cost NBC less than $2 million per week.  Which not only means NBC will be saving money, it means it won’t need to take in as much ad revenue to turn a profit.  In fact, The Jay Leno Show will only need to reach between 6.5 and 10 million viewers to slaughter its predecessors, like NBC’s canceled My Own Worst Enemy (which averaged a pathetic 5.9 million viewers per episode) or Lipstick Jungle, and if it finds 10 million viewers, it’ll be a legitimate hit.

So, not only does NBC get to KEEP its primetime hours, it gets to program them with a more cost-effective show.


•  IT COULD HURT LOCAL STATIONS BY REDUCING THEIR HOURS OF SCRIPTED PROGRAMMING.
Also—not entirely accurate.  Sure, it’s fewer hours of scripted programming… but local stations, like networks, want RATINGS… and they don’t care if those ratings are coming from scripted shows or non-scripted.  In fact, they’d much rather have a successful primetime talk show from Jay Leno than a scripted failure like Kath & Kim… and Leno, unlike a new scripted show, comes with his own built-in audience.  In other words, The Jay Leno Show has no greater chance of hurting local stations than any other show.

In fact, if the Leno show is a success, it will only help local stations... as well all the shows around it.  A successful 10 pm Leno show can not only boost the ratings of its lead-in, the show before it, it can boost the ratings of its lead-out, the show AFTER it… which, for most local stations, is local news—one of their most profitable timeslots.  And as ad revenue declines even at local stations, local newscasts—a huge part of stations’ bread and butter—need all the help they can get.  


•  IT’S DESIGNED TO SAVE NBC’S FINANCIALS, RATHER THAN FOSTER SCRIPTED PROGRAMMING.
Yesterday, Peter Tolan, creator of FX’s Rescue Me, said, “It's too bad that NBC is making choices primarily from a financial consideration vs. putting on the best possible work.”

I have to be honest… I find this comment ridiculous. Has Tolan SEEN the mediocre crap Ben Silverman has been putting on NBC?  This may BE the best possible work!  And while I am certainly a huge fan and supporter of scripted TV, it’s NOT always the best form of television.  Scripted TV doesn't get the title of "best" just because it's scripted.  I’d argue that The Amazing Race is one of the most innovative (when it first came out), compelling, sophisticated shows out there.  It certainly constitutes some of TV’s “best possible work,” even though it’s not scripted (and Survivor’s still pretty good, as well).  And there are plenty of scripted shows that certainly DON’T deserve to be on the air (yet you never hear writers bitching about shitty scripted shows, clamoring for their cancellation so we can get new and better unscripted series on air; shouldn't we-- as artists working in television-- be striving to create the BEST SHOWS POSSIBLE, whether they're dramas, comedies, reality shows, or talk shows?)

Now, to be fair—I understand this sentiment from writers’ perspective.  NBC’s decision DOES mean there are 5 fewer hours of broadcast programming to fill with scripted content, which makes it that much harder to sell a show.  But we’re also in an age where cable channels are thriving, opening up countless new places to sell series.  Plus, with the Internet poised to become the next big distribution mechanism, there’s bound to be even more outlets for storytellers and content creators.

(And by the way, what better proof of quality scripted television rising up on cable than Rescue Me, Peter Tolan’s own show?!  It’s a perfect example of the changing landscape of television.  I mean, come on—party of NBC’s dilemma is that cable is eroding its audience… thanks to great cable shows just like Mr. Tolan’s!)

Here’s what I find ironic about all these big-name writers bashing NBC for revamping its programming model: it was less than a year ago, when writers were striking for fair compensation, that writers were championing cable and new media as the future of TV… but now that they fear their livelihoods are more directly at stake, they’re ridiculing a network for abandoning its old models in response to the very changes they were endorsing!

In fact, if the Leno move succeeds, it may HELP scripted programming.  It could certainly give a boost to whatever scripted show NBC chooses to program as its lead-in, but it could also help NBC bounce back as well.  And as a writer, I’d certainly rather have an NBC with 17 hours of STRONG programming than 22 hours of crap.


•  IT WILL FORCE LENO AND CONAN TO COMPETE FOR GUESTS.
I just don’t buy this.  A movie star, musician, author, or athlete wanting to promote her work wants as much promotion as possible… and wants to appear on as many shows as she possibly can.  Not to mention, Conan and Leno have slightly different audiences, meaning guests can reach more—and different—people by going on both shows.  If Leno were to leave NBC, he’d still have a show—probably scheduled directly against Conan’s—but it would be at FOX or ABC.  This way, he’s not only NOT competing directly against Conan, they’re benefiting the same network.


•  THE LAST TIME PRIMETIME STRIP, WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE, RUINED ABC
This one’s open to interpretation.  I mean, first of all—Who Wants To Be A Millionaire was a MASSIVE hit, and while yes—ABC eventually pounded it into the ground, it also opened the door for networks to schedule more (and more and more) hours of primetime non-scripted programming.  Now, I know this can be interpreted as the show’s biggest negative, but I don’t think that’s fair… Who Wants To Be A Millionaire paved the way for Survivor, The Amazing Race, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, American Idol, etc.  And while it’s easy to rag on reality as a genre, let’s be honest: these are some damn good non-fiction shows.  (Who Wants To Be A Millionaire also spawned The Littlest Groom, The Swan, The Will, etc…. but hey—there are plenty of crappy scripted shows out there, too.)

So ABC may have eventually sabotaged its own Millionaire success, but it also planted the seeds for some of the biggest shows in its (and television’s) history.


• IT’S A BAND-AID WHICH FIXES A SYMPTOM, NOT NBC’S REAL PROBLEM
This I totally agree with; the Leno move IS a desperate band-aid… although it’s a band-aid that may work.

But the real problem is: rather than investing in developing great original material, NBC president Ben Silverman has spent most of his tenure adapting foreign shows, like Kath & Kim, and updating tepid remakes, like Knight Rider.  In fact, anything of note on NBC’s current schedule is a leftover from other presidents’ reigns: Law & Order (Brandon Tartikoff), E.R. (Warren Littlefield), The Office and 30 Rock (Kevin Reilly).  

And NBCU CEO Jeff Zucker has, for whatever reason, rewarded Silverman’s utter lack of success not only by keeping him around, but by firing the development team below him… as if Silverman has somehow been kicking ass, only to be undermined by those working beneath him.

Now, I want to be fair in my criticism here.  It’s easy to make punching bags out of Zucker and Silverman.  People love to lambaste Zucker for driving NBC from first to fourth place… but he was also instrumental in expanding and strengthening the rest of NBCU’s TV empire: emboldening Sci-Fi and Bravo and making USA America’s top cable network in target demos.  Some might say—and trust me, I’m not—that Zucker saw the writing on the wall years ago and realized how network and cable TV were swapping places.  (And again-- I'm NOT saying that, I'm just saying... you could make that argument if you wanted to.)

As for Ben Silverman… he was a great agent at William Morris and a great producer at Reveille, where he proved he had an eye for nabbing foreign TV formats like The Office, Kath & Kim, and Ugly Betty and turning them into hit shows.  But finding already-existing successes, then overseeing their adaptation, is a markedly different skill set than programming an entire network… and so far, Ben Silverman has done nothing but fail at that (and then blame other people).

I say that because: I don’t think Jeff and Ben are idiots.  I think they may be arrogant (Silverman was off skiing this week when his entire staff was unexpectedly fired… and 500 other NBC staffers were laid off), and they may be self-preserving, but they’ve both accomplished impressive things.  What they don’t seem to be able to do is recognize their own infallibility and realize the misguided-ness of their creative development strategies.

So yes… the Leno move is a desperate band-aid from desperate men trying desperately to save their network (and their own asses).  But it just might work.  

After all, the TV landscape IS changing.  We read every day about how the broadcast networks are dying.  Yesterday in the New Jersey Star-Ledger, Alan Sepinwall lamented that “NBC is becoming less a big broadcaster than just another channel in the NBC Universal cable empire.”  And I was like, “Uh— yeah, it basically already it is.”  NBC brings in less than 25% of NBCU’s total revenue... the rest is from cable and movies.

Having said that— I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.  I mean, yeah— it’s a huge change from the old way of doing business... but I’m not sure the death of the broadcast networks is something worth mourning.  I also don’t think “death” is the right concept... I think we’re seeing a huge leveling out, where broadcast nets are shrinking while cable is rising up, and soon we’ll be in a landscape where there are just many, many channels... but the broadcasters won’t necessarily rule.  NBC and CBS will be equals and rivals with USA, FX, Bravo, etc.  Is that such a bad thing?  I’m not sure it is... especially since many of those cable networks are producing better shows than the broadcasters anyway (Mad Men, Californication, Monk, Psych, BSG…)

So who cares if broadcast TV goes away?  Writers and producers certainly shouldn’t be.  The explosion of cable—and eventually Internet outlets—just means we’ll have even more places to sell our stories and ideas.  

The only ones who should be genuinely worried are the broadcast networks themselves… but being worried doesn’t mean “hit the panic button.”  NBC, ABC, CBS, and FOX aren’t going away any time soon.  They may change shape.  They may become cable networks.  But there is still a place for them in the TV universe, providing quality content to that box in people’s living rooms.  They may not be providing that content over radio waves, but again—is that such a big deal?  I don’t think so… and I don’t think audiences do, either.  Viewers want the most entertaining programming possible… whether that’s a brilliant scripted show like Grey's Anatomy or Family Guy or House… or a talk show like The Jay Leno Show or Conan O’Brien’s Tonight Show.  The networks simply need to realize that change is inevitable… and survival depends not on them scrambling to salvage outdated business models, but on experimenting with adaptation and evolution.  (Which—whether it fails or succeeds—I think is exactly what the Leno move is about.)

So where does all this leave us…?

Well, basically—I think it leaves us with a once-great network that has been cannibalized from the inside out… and at an unfortunate moment in history when the broadcast business model needs some serious revamping.  Which means NBC is at the center of a perfect storm, being battered from all sides by many forces—some under its control, others not so much.

I don’t know, honestly, if the Leno move will work in the long haul… but I think it can.  And I think it’s a smart attempt at plugging—at least temporarily—a dangerous leak in the boat.  

The truth is, the person with the most at risk is Jay Leno.  If the show fails, he’s out of a job (not that he’s hurting for money).  But NBC will just replace it with another sensational reality series… or perhaps a new stab at a scripted show.  In other words, NBC itself doesn’t have much to lose.

And if the maneuver works… well… Leno wins, Zucker and Silverman are happy, and—hopefully—NBC finds itself back on the road to being a kick-ass network… which is good news for ANYONE working in television.

Hey, everyone—

Some sad news (“sad” being relative, so bear with me)… Reality Binge, the Fox Reality Channel sketch/clip/variety show I’d be writing on for the past 8 months, was canceled this week.  We’ll finish out our final two episodes, and the finale will air on Thursday, December 18.  

So first of all… THANK YOU to all of you who watched, laughed, sent emails and posts to the Binge blog, and did everything else you could to help support us.  The folks in the office may not know your faces or even your names, but believe me… your support is appreciated more than you can know.

Secondly, I thought I’d take today and write about the experience of being canceled… what it’s like on the inside… because it’s a somewhat unique-- and simultaneously NOT unique-- experience (for anyone who's ever been laid off) that I think is interesting to those on the outside.  (Or at least, I remember before I’d worked in TV, I’d always wonder what it was like when a show was canceled.  How did they tell the writers?  What was the mood in the office?  Why were the network executives such idiots and assholes… or were they?  All that stuff…)

We learned the news at about 2:45 Tuesday afternoon.  Tuesdays are big days at the Reality Binge writers’ offices, because they’re the day the entire script comes together so it can be shot in the studio on Wednesday.  Every Tuesday at 2:00 is our “table read,” where all the writers, producers, and network executives gather in the conference room to hear the host, Eric Toms, read through the script.  We also read/rehearse/present to the network any skits, pre-taped bits, or clips for that week’s show.  Thus, the network executives often use the time before the table read to give us any important updates or information.

We had heard rumors the previous day (Monday), that we’d be learning the next afternoon whether or not Reality Binge would be picked up for a third “cycle,” or season.  Fox Reality Channel had been picking us up in 13-episode commitments, and this particular season was due to end on Thursday, December 18.  Several weeks earlier, as we were producing our first season and hoping for a second, they gave us the second-season nod about a month before the cycle ended.  So this time around, we were expecting to learn our fate by Thanksgiving.

In television, where even the highest-paid writers and producers are freelancers, hopping from one show to the next, getting a pick-up is a big deal… it’s learning whether or not you’ll have income for the next 3 months, 6 months, 12 months… however long the pick-up lasts.  If you don’t get picked up, everyone—even the top-of-the-food-chain writers, producers, and showrunners—must hit the streets in search of a new job.  

So as the network deadline for picking up a show draws closer, everyone on the staff begins to gossip and speculate.  Every tidbit of information becomes grist for the mill:

“We had terrible ratings last night—they’re gonna cancel us…”  “No way—we were up against the debates; they couldn’t have expected much…”

“We had a Verizon commercial!  That’s high profile—they gotta pick us up!”

“Last night’s ratings were low, but I heard we did great in the target demo… I bet we get the pick-up tomorrow…”

“A friend knows an assistant to the network president.  Apparently, we’re his favorite show, so the ratings don’t matter…”

“The network’s nervous… someone posted something on a blog saying we’re too much like The Soup… and our ratings were down…”

“Our ratings are low, but they have American Idol coming up and want to use us to promote it.  There’s no way they’d cancel us right before American Idol…”

Everyone becomes an armchair analyst and a wannabe programming exec.  But nobody really knows anything.

The week before Thanksgiving was incredibly tense because we were SURE we were gonna hear before the holiday.  In fact, many people thought we’d hear two or three weeks earlier… but we didn’t.  So almost every moment that we weren’t writing was spent speculating and guessing what was going on behind the network curtain.  We’d have conversations in the parking lot at 2 a.m. attempting to decipher any hint, clue, or rumor we could get our hands on.  

It’s easy to think—when you don’t hear the news you’re waiting for—that it means bad news.  (“If they were gonna pick us up, they’d have told us by now…”)  The truth is: while not knowing may not be GOOD news—after all, hit shows like CSI aren’t sweating when they don’t get their pick-up right away—silence very often means nothing.  It could mean the network wants to pick up the show but is discussing changes.  It could mean they’re figuring out their next season schedule.  In our case, it seemed to mean they hadn’t yet made a decision and wanted to continue seeing how the show performed.

For the most part, the Reality Binge writers and production staff seemed to be optimistic… “How could they NOT pick us up?  Everyone at the network loves the show."  "It’s so inexpensive!"  "It’s a great promotional vehicle for their other series."  "They have nothing else like it on their air.  And they need SOME kind of show like this.  They’d be crazy NOT to pick it up.”  We also felt we were just hitting our stride creatively, really figuring out how to do funny, creative stuff with the resources at our disposal.  Picking us up was a no-brainer… right?  

But when we didn’t hear… and we didn’t hear… and we didn’t hear… our palms started to sweat.

Then, last Monday, we heard rumors that the network would give us their decision the next day.  At 2:00, everyone gathered in the conference room for the table read—Eric (the host), the writers, producers, lawyers, network execs.  I don’t know if things were quieter, more taut, this week because we were all waiting for the announcement… or if it just seemed that way.  Usually, the moments before the table read are light, energetic, even a bit frenetic—there’s an excitement around watching the show come together.  But this time, there was a definite elephant in the room.  People were talking in hushed tones… there were no jokes or good-natured insults being thrown about… no ribbing or laughing.  It was like everyone was in a courtroom moments before learning the sentence of a close friend; would he be set free… or put to death?

And then the table read began.  No mention of the pick-up… no yes or no… not even acknowledgement that we were all waiting.  It just… started.  Again, I don’t know if the table read actually WAS different—less jovial, fewer out-loud laughs, a hesitancy about really enjoying the comedy—or if it just felt that way… but when it ended, and everyone dispersed to head back to their desks, there was a definite sense of, “Did that just happen?  Weren’t we supposed to LEARN something?  Did we just totally ignore the gigantic elephant in the room?”

But as the writers gathered in the writers room, our showrunner hurried in behind us.

“Hey, guys,” he whispered.  “Bad news: I didn’t want to say this before the meeting, but we’re getting canceled today.”

“How do you know?” we asked.

“Someone leaked it on a blog this morning.  It says ‘Fox Reality canceling Reality Binge… the LA offices will find out this afternoon.’  And the president of the network is on his way over here right now.”

“Well, it’s a blog,” I said.  “It could be totally wrong.  Who knows where that came from.”

“The president of the network is on his way.  He’ll be here at 3:30.”

He was right… network presidents generally don’t travel from Santa Monica to North Hollywood—an hour-long drive—to deliver good news about third season pick-ups.

Those few moments—and, I guess, the few hours—after learning the truth are a weird mixture of emotions: sadness, anger, worry, futility.  A million things race through your mind… “How could they do this?  We were just getting good!”  “Great—was all of this for nothing?”  “How will I afford Christmas presents?”  “Where should I start hunting for another job?”  “How will I tell my family?”  

For me, I sometimes think the mish-mash of emotions winds up leaving you feeling… ultimately… almost nothing at all.  It’s like the color white… I remember learning how white light is actually an amalgamation of all the other colors combined… which is odd, because all the colors combine to make NO color.  That’s how this feels.  A million emotions combine to leave you feeling almost nothing… just kind of empty, untethered.

It’s only later, over the next few hours and days, that real clarity hits you, washing over you like waves…

There’s the wave of: “The network is a bunch of idiots.  They never gave this show a chance… they squashed what made it good… they never promoted or marketed it the way they should’ve.”  I don’t care what show it is… EVERY CANCELED SHOW IN THE HISTORY OF TELEVISION HAS THIS CONVERSATION… ABOUT 15,000 TIMES.  Arrested Development, Jericho, Kath & Kim, Reality Binge.  There’s usually some truth in it… but sometimes—many times—shows simply fail.  It’s not the show’s fault.  It’s not the network’s fault.  It just failed.

There’s the wave of: “I have to tell my friends and family we failed.  We weren’t good enough.”

There’s the wave of: “Shit—I should’ve started job-hunting already.  What if I never get another gig?”

There’s the wave of: “Maybe I should just quit writing and get a ‘real job’… so I don’t have to go through this again.”

There’s the wave of: “We’re the best show on television… screw this network!... let’s just sell the show somewhere else!”  Almost every producer, when his or her show gets canceled, talks about selling the show somewhere else.  Sometimes it actually happens—like when Scrubs was canceled by NBC this year, then ABC Studios resold it to ABC—but these cases are few and far between.

And of course, all of these waves are washing over you while you still have to plow forward and finish your season’s remaining episodes.  (Sometimes shows are canceled and shut down immediately.  In Reality Binge’s case, we’re finishing the last episodes of this cycle.)

But jumping back to Tuesday…

The network president and VP showed up, as promised, at 3:30… when they had a closed-door meeting with the two heads of the production company, Weller-Grossman, which makes the show.  They emerged about twenty minutes later… the execs took off… and the executive producers gathered together the entire staff to break the news.  Each of them made a little speech, talking about what a great job we did… how gracious the network was in saying that they DID love the show—unfortunately, it just wasn’t getting the numbers they needed… etc.

These meetings always feel like funerals… they’re sad and gloomy, everyone already knows the news… but their true functions are to A) cement the truth, let it be said officially, and B) bring everyone together for a moment of cathartic communal mourning.  People sing the praises of each other and the show… how fun it was to work together… how well everyone gelled… etc.

And then, after the meeting, almost immediately… everyone went back to work.  After all, we had a show to shoot in less than 24 hours, and while it didn’t seem to matter much anymore, I think it was nice to know we still had a common purpose for a couple weeks.  Of course, things were different as we filtered back into the writers room… jokes were flying as usual, but there was definitely more gallows humor…  

“Let’s turn in all jokes about drugs and Jesus (the network hates drug references and religion jokes)—what are they gonna do, fire us?...”

“Hey, instead of shooting in the studio, let’s do the exact same show… but have Eric in a bathtub with razor blades…”  

To be fair, the network execs and lawyers have been genuinely contrite over the last few days, telling us repeatedly how much they loved the show… how painful this decision was.  Ultimately, they’ve told us, the show did GREAT online.  We were incredibly successful virally.  Unfortunately, the Internet viewers never seemed to find their way back to television… and while the world is on the verge of real TV/Internet convergence, we’re not there yet… and TV is what matters.

So… we trudge on, finishing the final two episodes in our order, knowing—hoping—we made Reality Binge the best show we could… and we begin the hunt for a new show, the next job.  Some of us have agents, who will help… but whether you have an agent or not, it’s usually up to you to find that next gig.

Every show ends… sometimes after a year, sometimes after five.  And when it’s over, you’re usually back to square one, searching for that next job.  This doesn’t change much whether you’re at the top of the food chain… the bottom… or, like most TV writers, somewhere in the middle.  The upside is: you always know you’re in good company.  Sure, it gets easier to find jobs after you’ve had a few… but I know mid-level and high-level writers and producers who have been out of work for months, even years.  Most of them will find something, hopefully sooner than later.

But as painful as getting canceled—and the constant insecurity—can be, this is the name of the game for everyone working in TV.  Which means those who survive have to be scrappy.  In fact, I’m not sure whether working in TV—or being any kind of freelancer—“makes” you scrappy… or you become a freelancer BECAUSE you’re scrappy.

Either way, it’s not always fun… but it’s the life we choose.

Welcome to television.


REALITY BINGE: "PETER GUNN'S GUIDE TO STYLE"