I Never Imagine That There Are Coasters

(This is a post about making TV. If you are not interested in the process of making TV, please ignore it. If you are my parents, and want to know what I do for a living, and I know you do, read on...)

Many years ago, I was toiling away on a sketch comedy show. I was doing my thing, and it was all well and good, but I didn't have too many other prospects. I wasn't pitching shows, and it didn't seem like I was even allowed to pitch shows.

Meanwhile, there was a guy I knew who was also a writer. Only, he had never worked on a TV show or movie in his life. I mean, zero. And yet, every year, he would sell a pilot to one of the big networks for a sizable sum.

Being the bitter gent that I was, I was extremely bitter about this. This guy had never even worked on a show! How could you buy something from someone who doesn't even know what it takes to make television every week? He had no experience in anything other than using a keyboard!

As you know, I've matured since then. I don't feel the same way anymore. But I think you can see where my childish, many years ago self was coming from. I mean, if you just take a step back and look at the situation, as if it were any other business: can you imagine investing a bunch of money and hiring someone who has never done what you're hiring him to do? It's sorta nonsensical.

Alas, that's show business. And it's more complicated than that anyway. If one of those shows had gotten on the air (they didn't), they would've hired more experienced people to run the day to day operations, so whatever...

None of this is my point. My point is that I was a little bit right. Because there is something that you can only learn about as a writer when you are actually working on a show that is produced for TV. It's something that that guy would never know about, would never think about when writing scripts. And that something is known as...

The Production Meeting

I read a lot of blogs about screenwriting, and I don't think I've seen anyone write about this and I'm not sure why. I find it fascinating, and it's an important (and scary) part of the process of actually producing stuff.

I think as writers we think a script is the be all and end all. We bitterly complain about directors getting all of the love in film. "A film by..." Fuck you. It wouldn't be a "film by" anyone if my shit didn't say "Fade in".

But as soon as you get into a production meeting you realize how much ISN'T in a script. It's really depressing. Your script isn't the be all and end all, it's a starting point with a lot of holes that need to be filled in. And where do these holes get filled in? At the production meeting.

You always walk into a production meeting filled with confidence. And then you sit down across from a room full of hardened professionals, all of whom who have worked on a thousand more shows than you have. They are awesome at their job, and want to do their best, and this is their time to take your hard work and contribute their hard work.

So just when you are feeling downright cocky about the brilliant piece of comedy you have made, the barrage begins:

"What color is her dress?"
"It says the mood is romantic, are there candles? How many?"
"Are there coasters on the table?"
"What is she eating? Asian food? Sushi? What kind of sushi?"
"Chopsticks or silverware?"
"Is her hair in a bun? Scrunchy or clip?"
"What does the banner say behind them?"
"Do you have names for the things on the dresser?"
"Is that gonna be green screen or practical?"

The truth is you don't know the answer to any of these questions. Yet, you think that you should, and THEY think that you should. And if you pause for a second to think about what the answer should be, you start thinking that you've been had. They know that you are a fraud. Cause you are a fraud.

So the secret to these production meetings is to go in knowing that you don't have all of the answers, but you must pretend that you do! Every answer must be given confidently and definitively. No hesitation. No doubt. If you are second guessed, act like they are the idiot. It's your script, after all, only you can say what kind of sushi it is.

Many of the questions you get asked are dumb. But no one who is trying to decipher your script can really guess which questions are dumb and which are vitally important to telling your story, so all of them must be asked. And they are. Every single one.

It's a very intimidating process. But the quick, decisive answer always works. I totally suck at this, because I'm not a details guy. And I'm not good at noticing the look of things. I don't know about clothes or food, or furniture, or any of that stuff. Hell, I didn't even know there were different kinds of sushis. So I really, really have to fake it.

But let me give you an example from TV of what I'm talking about:

I've seen every episode of Beverly Hills 90210 about a million times. The other day I was watching one such episode. It was during the period when the gang was attending California University.

In the scene I was watching, Brandon confronts his girlfriend Lucinda about her making a move on Dylan. In the process of her stalling and avoiding answering him, she offers him some food.

She grabs a plate from the table, and on the plate is an absurdly neat platter of various meats and cheeses.

I've seen the episode a lot, and I never, ever noticed the plate before. Until now.

And that is just a small example of what a production meeting is for. I guarantee you that the writer did not put what was on that platter in the script. You simply can't do it, or else scripts would be a thousand pages long. But there has to be food on that platter, and someone has to say what it is going to be? They went with meat and cheeses, I might've gone strawberries and grapes.

So there you go, Mom. That's what I do sometimes.