Writing the TV Drama Series 3rd edition. Pamela Douglas

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

       PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION

      In times of great change, the question is: what remains?

      In 2005, when the First Edition of Writing the TV Drama Series was published, the rules of TV were knowable and clear. Hour dramas had four acts with commercial breaks every 13 minutes or so. A network TV season was usually 22 episodes that ran from September to May. And viewers sat on living room couches to watch their TV sets, tuning in to their favorite programs at the times when the programs were scheduled for broadcast.

      Back then, I wanted to tell you how to get into this field and do good work once you’re here. That much remains.

      By the Second Edition in 2007, many of the rules had changed — but the rules were still clear. On broadcast TV, hour drama shows went to five or six acts; basic cable was offering scripted series that followed traditional paradigms; on premium cable, HBO and Showtime always won the critical awards, and their commercial-free model had become a distinct form of its own. Pilot opportunities for new writers had blown open, but the pilots themselves were written and made the same way they’d always been.

      Back then, I wanted to tell you how to use the new rules to write well and succeed. That remains also.

      For the Third Edition, I initially thought I’d update the major shows, add a few fresh interviews, and reflect more of what’s happening in alternative forms and on the Internet. But as I researched this edition, I discovered that almost everyone — from showrunners to struggling writers to industry executives to new media creators — were no longer merely adjusting the rules. Now they were asking basic questions: What is television? What is drama? What is a series? What are the delivery options? What are our obligations to the audience? Does a mass audience exist? Even what is reality?

      And yet, after the smoke clears, more remains than appeared at first. No matter whom I asked about the future of television, the name of Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher, kept being invoked, not only by writers of great drama series, but by someone doing Webisodes and someone else making “Unscripted” shows. Though Aristotle set out the principles of drama thousands of years ago to describe archetypal tragedies in the plays of his time, those essential dramatic principles remain today.

      The writer’s skill at storytelling, understanding what drives human beings, the guts to touch the passions, fears and aspirations of viewers, and honestly portray the universal issues of our lives — that content still relies on the art, craft, and insight of people who write.

      So this Third Edition will present it all: the traditional basis for writing TV drama juxtaposed with new forms, traditional delivery systems seen in the light of current technology, and interviews with “Guest Speakers” whose ideas diverge from each other more than in past editions. These range from deep social reality that concerns the creator of The Wire, to nuts-and-bolts from a producer of so-called “Reality” shows, and from working writers coping with a shifting marketplace to programming decisions by the President of AMC cable who is part of shifting that marketplace.

      In the past I paraphrased All About Eve, advising readers to hold on to their seat belts. But in zero gravity, the challenge is instead to go with the flow as you explore an evolving landscape. In a world afloat, it turns out that the TV drama series is something that does remain.

       INTRODUCTION

      More than a thousand students have come through my classes in the two decades I’ve taught at the USC School of Cinematic Arts. At the same time, my professional career was growing to include story editor and producer credits on television dramas, the Humanitas Prize, and awards and nominations including Emmys, Writers Guild, and American Women in Radio and Television, and a position on the Board of Directors of the Writers Guild. Always, my screenwriting and teaching have complemented each other.

      I bring my working life into the classroom: What is it like to be actively breaking stories, writing, rewriting, giving and getting notes, seeing how your scripts translate to screen? I clearly recall freelancing television episodes, but I also know how the other side of the desk reacts to pitches, because I’ve been in both chairs. I’ve written for both broadcast and cable, and for virtually every dramatic genre. In my class, students learn from someone who has been there.

      Imagine you’ve stopped by a typical episodic drama class in the middle of a term. Ten students sit at a table, scripts and DVDs from our in-class library — House, The Good Wife, Mad Men, Breaking Bad, Dexter, The Wire — among others in the middle. The class has not begun, but people are returning scripts and discs, reaching for one they want next.

      At the beginning of a term I used to ask if any students didn’t have a television so I could pair them with someone who did. But when I asked in 2009, the whole class raised their hands. I started getting on their cases: How can you speculate episodes for shows you’ve never seen? Was it laziness? Arrogance? No!, they responded. They were watching — just not on a television set. Everyone was viewing on a computer, or even a cell phone. They knew even more shows than in previous years; they were ready.

      In class, we operate like the writing staff of a TV series in which writers suggest improvements on each other’s work, while I function as “show-runner,” or final authority on revisions. The standard is professional quality, and our models are the most brilliant, incisive, daring scripts on networks or cable. Since I hold the bar so high, no one brings in trivial subjects. Because television drama frequently reflects complex and wrenching problems in contemporary society — such as racism, sexism, violence, spirituality, and sexual identity — the writers must confront these issues with honesty at the same time as they learn their craft.

      On other occasions, I come to class in the midst of my writing, full of some creative problem, and let the class in on my process. Or I might screen a clip and deconstruct its elements and how it fits within the total structure of a show. All this leads to finished scripts that aim to be competitive with the best drama written for screen.

      That’s my goal for you too as you work with this book. My students are sophisticated, smart, dedicated, and some are wonderfully talented. Still, I was initially surprised at what they didn’t know. When I add my summer seminars, which are open to the public, I discovered strange misconceptions about television, the art and craft of TV drama, and the life of a working writer. That’s one of my reasons for creating this book, since I’m uniquely aware of what beginning writers want and need to learn.

      My approach is practical: The better you write, the more work you’ll get. Give ’em better than they deserve because you deserve the best, even if your first assignment is on something you leave off your resume years later.

      As you go through this book, imagine that you’re in my classroom. I’ll be talking to you, even asking you questions. Though I can’t hear your answers, I suggest you treat the chapters interactively anyway so that you’ll be applying the principles.

      Throughout, you’ll find useful tools, a complete map of the TV series terrain, and lessons from those who have traveled it before. But, ultimately, the way to write better is to be true to what’s real in your stories and to write more. You’re not alone — I’ll show you how.

       WHAT’S NEW IN THIS EDITION

      If you’re familiar with the Second Edition, you’ll notice how much has been updated. Though the chapters on craft present the same essential principles, small changes occur throughout, replacing older shows with current ones and considering the Internet and new platforms in all subjects.

      Among the larger changes, the book has gone from seven chapters to eight. The final chapter that was a brief treatment of new outlets in the Second Edition is now a full chapter dealing with the future of TV drama on the Internet, the impact of new delivery potentials on writers, and an international perspective. Since the book has become global, I thought that expansion would be significant.

      Entirely