Top TV Writers Talk How to Work on Successful TV Shows
Posted on January 16, 2013 Leave a Comment
Went to a panel sponsored by The Scriptwriters’ Network on Saturday. Call that my force social interaction for the week. The speakers were Glen Mazzara of The Walking Dead, Dan O’Shannon of Modern Family, Alex Cary of Homeland, Janet Tamaro of Rizzoli & Isles, Vanessa Taylor of Game of Thrones & Matt Nix of Burn Notice. As you can tell, some hefty names in there.
They started with the usual grab bag of “How I Broke in Stories.” I appreciate these to a certain extent, but the thing that nearly all of the stories boil down to is: Know Someone.
They knew someone, They met someone at a party, such and so introduced them to their agent. It’s not easy. You have to network. So, circle this, star it, bookmark it, whatever. If you want to write for television, somewhere, somehow, you’re going to have to know someone in or around the industry. What this translates to is: get to Los Angeles. I’m not poo-pooing your dreams and maybe there are exceptions, but look deep inside yourself and decide whether or not you’re Katniss Everdeen and even she had sponsors. Peeta had to know someone to get a leg up (oh! A leg up! Snap!)
Enough with the Hunger Games references. What other wisdom did I take away from the experience?
You have to write. A lot.
You have to get used to rejection. Janet Tamaro, as a female showrunner, asked the men on the panel what the male equivalent to “bitch” was. Interestingly, the joking answer was “success.” And all the panelists were kinda like, “well…yeah.”
But let’s be honest:
Perhaps the biggest thing they hit on was Voice. (Yes, so big I capitalized it)
It’s weird, Voice. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t have a Voice. No, not sometimes. All the time. What is my Voice? How am I different? How can I be different while proving that I can also be the same?
This comes on the tail end of me pitching something in class that I probably shouldn’t have. I started the pilot writing class on Tuesday, a class that will end with a group of actors reading my pilot on stage. This is an awesome opportunity, to see what someone will do with my work. And, I pitched my half-baked idea. I had my ready to go idea. And I pitched my half-baked idea.
My heart’s in it. I love my half-baked idea. But my brain started berating me. I’m not ready to write this. Which makes it, perhaps, the perfect time to start writing it. It’s like I snuck up on this idea in the jungle and surprised it into submission. Hopefully, I can wrestle it to the ground before it gets its legs underneath it.
Well, once again, I’ve turned this blog around and made it all about me.
I guess what you really need to know is that nobody knows what they’re doing. And also no one can really tell you what to do. We’re all firing in the dark. Some people have flashlights, but when they hand them over, they don’t always work correctly.
Last note: Dan O’Shannon wrote a book about some of his comedy experiences called What Are You Laughing At? If you’ve read it, let me know what you thought. I will probably take a look at it and throw a review up here. I suppose I should get back to being “smartly droll*” about books.
* A friend of mine said I was smart droll so I’m stealing it. Welcome to the world of writing.
Home Office? More like Pajama Party!
Posted on January 14, 2013 2 Comments
I won’t pretend that I haven’t hit the jackpot. I work from home. When you think about it, that’s pretty awesome. No, even when you don’t think about it, it’s really awesome. And for some reason, there’s this weird conception out there that I do everything in my pajamas, and that’s not exactly a lie.
But there are some pitfalls to working from home.
Like no human interaction. When you’re communicating through emails with everyone, sometimes you wonder if there’s actually someone on the other side. I keep getting paychecks, so I assume…
Then, there’s the whole thing with the pajamas. If I don’t have pajamas on by one ‘o clock in the afternoon, it means I’m not going anywhere, so I might as well throw on the Snuggie and stretch the power cord of the laptop over the back of the couch. And just like Wear Your Pajamas to Work Day, I’m not nearly as productive. What do you mean there’s no Wear Your Pajamas to Work Day? Is that not a thing at your office?
My computer is for fun and for profit. There’s no difference between my work computer and my home computer (except for that one thing about the Java update that means I have to use that one bit of software on the old computer, but that’s neither here nor there).
I don’t have a water cooler. My roommates are out of the house most of the time. I don’t have a receptionist. Or a mail guy. It gets sort of lonely. Sometimes, I go a couple days without leaving the house. My thoughts start to echo back in my head. Television is my friend.
Anyway, the real productivity comes from getting out of the house. If I go to a coffeeshop, I’ll sit and work for four to six hours straight, no breaks, no lunches, not even a bathroom pause.
And, if I’m bored on a Saturday night or Sunday afternoon, it’s easy to fall into work. I’ve gotten emails at 11:30 at night which could wait till the morning, but of course my first response is to do it now. I get work emails on my phone, on my computer, sometimes even alerts on my iPad. Is that how most people do it these days?
My Midwestern ideals make it so I have to work. I feel guilty if I don’t. Sometimes, I feel like that horse in Animal Farm. Pretty soon, the only thing I’ll be good for is glue.
Which brings me to a point, sort of, about introversion. I land pretty high on the introversion score. I like hanging out with other introverts. Extroverts freak me out and make me suspicious and paranoid. Why are you so happy? Why are you telling everyone you’re so happy? Don’t touch me. Why are we hugging?
If they talk about things I’m interested in, I’m less suspicious. But, getting stuck inside by myself for extended periods of time sort of reminds me why humans are social creatures. You gotta get out there and meet people. Or be stuck inside with your own irritating self who won’t shut up about Underworld until we watch it seven times.
Home office or regular office, work is work. What are the pitfalls of your daily plod?
‘Twas The Night Before Rapture
Posted on December 20, 2012 Leave a Comment
‘Twas the night before Rapture and all through the land; We hoped that the Mayans were wrong on their plan.
For some people said it would be over soon.
Many of us hope they’d just run out of room.
With holiday greetings still stacked on the shelves; We hoped to see light at the end of Two Thousand and Twelve.
With cable news glowing, lights upon the Christmas tree.
We tentatively watched and thought, “Well, I guess we’ll see.”
But everything became boring, no word of mass dead. I thought, ‘Geez, forget this. I’m going to bed.”
I shuffled upstairs and I turned out the light.
Too exhausted to think this could be my last night.
So many ways to go, zombie, asteroid, or drought.
I’m going to sleep, you guys figure it out.
For you see, if tomorrow, the world begins splitting.
You can bet bet the doomsday preppers are the first people I’m hitting.
Wrapping Paper
Posted on December 17, 2012 2 Comments
I have a question.
Why is wrapping a Christmas present the hardest thing ever?
I mean, it should be easy, right? The thing with the fold and the tap dispenser and flip the corners in with the point and the box and NOOO! JUST STOP!
This is the worst part of the Christmas season.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave out any of my non-Christian friends. But, guys. Wrapping gifts. Am I right?
It doesn’t help that my mother is a gift-wrapping savant. She can wrap cubes, pyramids, tetrahedrons, dodecahedrons, spheres (though I guess spheres wouldn’t be that difficult, right?). Did I get a gift wrapping gene from Mom? Nope. I just put the box on the paper and look up at Mom with a whimper like a guilty puppy that’s just made a mess on the carpet.
And you can’t do gift bags. No, you get judged for gift bags. I mean, I say, “I saw this gift bag and it looked so YOU!” but then I get the judgement stares of, “But, doesn’t this gift bag come in wrapping paper?”
Every Christmas season, we get our designated time in the Wrapping Room. If the door is shut, you must knock and announce yourself so the Wrapper has the chance to give you the all clear. Usually, we have a Wrapping Buddy. Mom has the work station planned out, so the buddy is more moral support then helper. Your elf, as it were, if Santa had OCD.
When we were younger, every present from Santa was wrapped in Santa wrapping paper. I say when we were younger, but that still happens. To this day, I still get gifts from Santa. I’m 26 years old. I am not arguing with this. Santa, I’m a big fan. Keep ’em coming.
Despite my disdain for the Wrapping Paper tradition, I love giving gifts. I love the surprise. I’m one of those people that tries to put tons of thought into a gift. I want to see the reaction. I’ve made people cry with my gift-giving skills and that is a power worth wielding.
What is your Achilles’ heel of the holiday season? Let me know in the comments.
Talk Amongst Yourselves
Posted on December 13, 2012 Leave a Comment
You know you’ve reached a weird point when you start Search Engining blog topics. I mean, what do I write about?
Part of my problem is overload. I’m writing four sketches a week, 10 jokes a week, two blog posts a week for work (why is that always easier?), and developing a sitcom pilot while keeping one eye open for work in the entertainment industry.
So, I guess I’ll update you on random things and you can talk amongst yourselves.
- Love, love, love Los Angeles. Go…Theater Nerds? (I’m not sure what team I’m supposed to cheer for here.)
- Still working two and a half jobs from home. Garbage disposal broke. Plumber came over to replace it. I awkwardly hovered over him and tried to talk about TV shows.
- I flirted with him a bit, but he turned me down. It’s cool. Those inter-office romances never work anyway.
- I’ve started referring to all my neighbors by their Native American names. Works On Car. Lets Dog Poop. Flirts With Kate. Has Loud Sex.
- Egg nog is a meal in and of itself.
- My Second City classes were lovely. They cost a lot of money. Those two things probably aren’t related, but whatever.
- I haven’t finished reading a book in two months.
- I’m reading Pride & Prejudice and I love it. Which makes me a stereotypical girl, but I’m dealing with that in my own way.
- I lost a friend and made two.
- I’ve been earning Adulthood badges like gangbusters.
Well, what have you been up to? I think you don’t realize how busy you are until you look at the date and think, “Hm. I should have my Christmas shopping done by now.”
Happy Hanukkah everybody!
How to change a blinker in 12 easy steps and 1 not so easy one
Posted on December 11, 2012 Leave a Comment
I recently gained an Adulthood badge. I had to fix a car issue with my own two hands. Curious, are you? Well, here’s an easy how-to guide.
How to Change A Blinker in 12 Easy Steps and 1 Not So Easy
1. Determine if your blinker needs changing.
Most cars have a signal for this. The blinker that isn’t functioning properly usually blinks manically when you turn it on. That’s your first clue. If you are new to Los Angeles and don’t have any friends, verifying isn’t as easy as asking someone to help you. So either pull up to a wall in the dark or flip on the blinker and get out to check yourself.
2. Stop using your car immediately.
You are saving lives.
3. Forget that your blinker needs to be changed.
This is easily accomplished by only driving your car once a week and mostly making turns counter to the the blinker that is burned out.
4. Only drive at night so as to not be able to see anything in the engine when you get home.
Yeah. Darkness is not helpful for bulb changing.
5. Be reminded by your dad that your blinker is burnt out.
Really, the further away your dad is from the problem, the better. My dad was 1400 miles away. If he can remember your problem when he’s that far from it, you should probably get that worked out.
6. Locate the nearest auto repair shop.
And I can walk there! Bonus!
7. Wait until something else goes wrong with your car.
Low coolant? Well, that seems important. Hm.
8. Remove blinker bulb.
This is actually pretty easy. Did you know that your car has an OWNER’S MANUAL? Usually in the GLOVE BOX? (Not just for gloves, apparently)
9. Drive to the auto repair shop making only turns allowed by the functional blinker.
Take twice as long as necessary and make sure it is dark outside.
10. Buy bulb/coolant/wiper fluid
Don’t be afraid to ask for help. These guys know what they’re doing.
11. Drive home timing your arrival so that your neighbor who always works on his car is working on his car when you get there.
That’s not so hard. Now that you mention it, why is he always working on his car?
12. Don’t ask him for help.
It’s time to man up and earn that Adulthood badge.
13. Change your blinker.
It’s, like, #8 in reverse.
Well, there you have it. How to change a blinker. You, too, can earn this Adulthood badge. At least you didn’t have to change a tire on the side of the highway.
(Oh, yeah, and the hard one was #9)
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