Last time, I wrote about the problem with scripted comedy in the TV industry right now. If you’ve not yet read it, give it a quick look:
Don’t Panic
There is not an existential threat: people like laughing and watching TV. But because of the economics and a bunch of other factors, commissioners are reluctant to commission sitcoms. So producers are dubious about developing them. It’s tough out there. The chances of selling a script seem low. The chances of having a script commissioned lower still.
Scripts take time, energy, passion and tears. Whatever stage you’re at on your sitcom-writing journey, no-one wants that feeling of Sisyphus, sentenced to pointlessly push the boulder up a hill every day.
So what do we do?
There are many options that I will look at over the next couple of weeks. Here’s the first:
#1 Keep doing what you’re doing
You just love writing situation comedy. You don’t want to write anything else. In fact, you write because you love sitcom.
Maybe you’re a professional comedy writer with deep enough pockets, high enough repeat fees or low enough outgoings to weather the storm. That is not quite me. I am a professional sitcom writer. That’s what I call myself. I’ve had a decent run for over twenty years since my first sitcom, Think The Unthinkable, was first aired on BBC Radio 4 in October 2001. Since then I’ve written or co-written over 150 broadcast half hours for TV and Radio. I get repeat fees and residuals. But not enough to pay the mortgage, put food on the table and noodle away on sitcoms until the tide turns. So I can’t quite afford to just keep doing what I’ve been doing.
You may have a full-time job doing something else – like working in a school or a hospital - and you are aspiring to be sitcom writer. Earning money from writing isn’t such an issue. You want to use this time to learn the craft. Great. Crack on. Stick with Plan A. You might want to check out a comprehensive video course that will teach you the whole process and produce a script you’re proud of.
Some would say keeping on writing sitcom scripts is just madness. But there is wisdom in zigging while the world zags. Or keeping straight on while others are veering off. When the economics of TV change from red to green, you’ll be in pole position to be first off the grid and race off in the lead.
So that’s option one. As The Beautiful South used to sing, “Carry on Regardless.”
Here’s option two. Ready?
#2 Stop Writing Altogether
I’m serious. You could just stop. Had you thought about that? You could do something else. As I used to say on the Sitcom Geeks podcast, ‘no-one asked you to do this.”
You don’t need to burn your notebooks, throw your laptop into a lake, announce on Twitter that you’re done and flounce off. Just stop writing and developing scripts for a bit. If writing is a hobby, try another hobby. If writing is an aspiration, trying learning some different skills. A different hobby and some new skills might give you something to write about in a few years when things look different.
If you’re a professional writer, consider taking a job that isn’t actually writing scripts. One thing I do on the side is produce podcasts. This is related to writing, but has involved my learning Logic Pro and the whole podcast eco-system. I really enjoy it, want to keep doing and can charge a day-rate for doing so. It’s been handy income over the years.
If you need to make hard cash, bear in mind that it’s easier to make money doing almost anything else. You might be surprised at how much easier. If you’re clean, turn up for work on time, stay until the end and don’t steal from the cash register, you will probably find regular work. And even the ‘being clean’ bit is probably a ‘nice to have’ rather than a non-negotiable.
As I wrote in the introduction to my book, Writing That Sitcom, if you’re really passionate about writing, you’ll come back to it. You might even come back excited, refreshed and with a new stories and experiences.
I spend the whole introduction of the book trying to put you off writing a sitcom. I quote screenwriter Josh Olson (History of Violence) who wrote a comically graceless article for Village Voice in 2009 about refusing to read people’s scripts. It was called ‘I will not read your f*c£ing script’. Lots of people got offended by the implication that an awful lot of people are wasting their time writing screenplays because they really don’t have the talent. No comment. But Olson was at least right when he observed:
… you cannot discourage a writer. If someone can talk you out of being a writer, you’re not a writer. If I can talk you out of being a writer, I’ve done you a favor, because now you’ll be free to pursue your real talent, whatever that may be.1
So let me do you a favour:
Consider stopping writing altogether. It might turn out you don’t miss it.
If you take a break, you might realise you’d always thought this was something you’d wanted to do – but actually you don’t.
I’ve spent an awful lot of my life assuming that I hate routine and resisting it. I’m all about freedom and self-determination. In fact, I’ve become much more productive since instituting all kinds of routines. I realise that the persona in my head was not actually who I was. Or at least not who I am now in my late 40s.
Have you made being a sitcom writer your ‘persona’? It’s all in your head. Nobody’s really paying attention. And if you decide to get into Formula 1 or run a community café instead, people will be happy for you.
Intervention over.
For now.
There’ll be two more constructive suggestions next time. So why not subscribe to make sure you don’t miss them?
The Village Voice no longer exists, but you can get longer extracts of the article here: https://gointothestory.blcklst.com/i-will-not-read-your-fucking-script-a31222bd1ef2