Book Offers Tips On How To Become A TV Writer

One of the most intriguing books I've read this year is "Small Screen, Big Picture," a how-to guide for writers who are looking to break into the highly competitive world of television.

Published by Mediabistro.com and written by Chad Gervich,

the book is a comprehensive guide for how to get your foot in the door as a television writer. The book lays out multiple paths to success as a TV writer, from how to land an entry-level job as an intern, an assistant to a producer, or a "baby writer" on a series, to how to network and build contacts in the industry.

"Small Screen, Big Picture" also takes you inside a network TV writers' room and explains the administrative hierarchy and how to handle "office politics" at a network.

For those of us who aren't based in the entertainment capitals of New York or Los Angeles, "Small Screen, Big Picture" is particularly helpful. Toward the end of the book, it lays out alternative paths on how to break into the industry, such as creating your own web series or financing your own reality show.

"Small Screen, Big Picture" features insightful interviews with many accomplished TV writers, producers and showrunners. It's a must-read for anyone who wants to write for television.

Author's note: If you have a minute, please check out the new book I co-authored, All Jokes Aside: Comedy Is a Phunny Business, and leave a review on Amazon by clicking this link.

Cream Doesn't Necessarily Rise To The Top

Although market success does depend on the quality of the product, the link is extremely variable and uncertain. Even the best contestant in a product category may fail, and even the worst one sometimes wins." -  Cornell University economics professor Robert H. Frank

As a creative person, I believe in being optimistic. There is a lot to be said for the power of positive thinking. But one thing I've learned is that being naïvely optimistic is not very useful.

One theory that I think is hopelessly naive is that cream always rises to the top. This belief posits that people and things that have inherent quality will always find someone - or lots of someones  - who will appreciate them. But to quote the famous number from the musical "Porgy and Bess," it ain't necessarily so. 

As a writer, I've had a rude awakening that cream doesn't always rise to the top. When I was first starting out, I was very idealistic and assumed that if I just wrote the best book I could, poured all my energy into telling the best story possible and made sure every detail was authentic, readers would naturally flock to my awesome creation. As it turns out, this just isn't the case. It's wishful thinking. 

How many crappy books become bestsellers that are turned into blockbuster movies? And on the flip side, how many literary masterpieces struggle to find an audience?

Furthermore, there are many bestsellers that almost never saw the light of day. There are countless stories of mega-selling authors whose manuscripts were rejected by numerous publishers until one insightful editor happened to see a spark of potential in the story, including J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter." An agent reportedly once told F. Scott Fitzgerald that "The Great Gatsby" lacked "literary merit."

To fully understand the concept that cream doesn't necessarily rise to the top, you need only read the book "Desperate Networks." This inside look at the world of television cites example after example of now-beloved shows that were passed over by clueless network executives. These shows only made it on the air because some random person, such as a network executive's spouse or daughter, came across a video of a pilot for a show such as "Desperate Housewives" or "American Idol" and convinced their skeptical husband or father to greenlight the series that otherwise would have ended up on the scrap heap.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not arguing that if you're an aspiring writer or any other type of artist, you should just slap something together and throw it out there because you ultimately have no control over how audiences respond. 

What I am saying is that by all means, we should strive to do our best work and channel our energy into making sure the books we write and the plays we stage and the albums we record and the movies we make reflect our most sincere, heartfelt efforts.  But it's also important to not base our entire self-worth on the outcome. 

No, cream doesn't automatically rise to the top. The often fickle taste of the general public has no built-in "quality control" process. People aren't born with some kind of "mediocrity detection" chip. Taste is, by its very nature, subjective. People like what they like.

It's only through hard work and persistence that our work will connect with appreciative audiences: creating the best art we can and then promoting the hell out of it through social media, paid advertising and other marketing avenues. It also doesn't hurt to have an aggressive publicist, agent or manager who isn't afraid to call gatekeepers a million times a day and pester them into turning a "no" or "maybe" into a firm "yes."

I've learned to adopt the following attitude: In whatever project I take on, I'm going to do the best I can, with the understanding that as far as the world is concerned, my best may not be good enough. And that's okay. 

Because creating art for art's sake and putting beautiful things out in the world is worth it.

Reading Is A Necessary Tool For Writers

"Trying hard to recreate what had yet to be created."

These lyrics from the Doobie Brothers' classic '70s hit "What a Fool Believes" sums up the position me and my friend Raymond Lambert found ourselves in, in November 2014. 

Herbie Hancock's autobiography
 offered insights
 on how to tell Raymond's story.

Raymond and I co-wrote the new book "All Jokes Aside: Comedy Is a Phunny Business." The book tells the story of how Raymond rose from a working-class childhood to become a successful investment banker and later co-founded the legendary Chicago comedy club All Jokes Aside.

Raymond made a well-received documentary about the club titled "Phunny Business," and "All Jokes Aside" goes more in-depth into telling Raymond's life story. The book also includes extended anecdotes about the famous comedians who got their start there  - the likes of Chris Rock, Dave Chapelle,  Mo'Nique, Steve Harvey, Adele Givens, Cedric the Entertainer, D.L. Hughley and many other kings and queens of comedy.

Raymond is a great storyteller, and we worked in tandem, writing and editing each other's work. For some reason, when we started writing the book in 2013, we told Raymond's story in third person. For example, instead of writing, "I picked Chris Rock up from the airport for his weekend engagement at All Jokes Aside," we wrote, "He picked Chris Rock up from the airport..." 

Initially, the text seemed to flow better in third person.

By the time came to turn the book into the publisher in the fall of 2014, Raymond and I felt that we had a pretty strong manuscript. It helps that Raymond's life is an inspiring Horatio Alger-type tale, and it certainly doesn't hurt that the story of All Jokes Aside happens to include lots of celebrity name-dropping.

Our publisher, Doug Seibold at Chicago-based Agate Publishing, was awesome to work with, giving us lots of personal handling. He didn't hesitate to let us know the strength and weaknesses of the manuscript. He was diplomatic in informing us that he couldn't publish a book billed as an autobiography that was written in the third person. 

So, this is where those Doobie Brothers lyrics come in: we had to recreate what had yet to be created, start all over and rewrite Raymond's story in first person.

In tackling this overwhelming task, reading other biographies and autobiographies helped a great deal. One book that was very helpful in structuring Raymond's story was "Stork Club: America's Most Famous Nightspot and the Lost World of Café Society." Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times reporter Ralph Blumenthal's book about the legendary Big Apple nightclub also chronicles the life of its colorful founder, Sherman Billingsley. 

"The Stork Club" came highly recommended by Washington Post reporter Wil Haygood, who, like me, is a native of Columbus, Ohio, and got his start at the Call and Post Newspaper. Raymond had initially approached Wil about co-writing "All Jokes Aside" and Wil referred Raymond to me - a "solid" for which I'll always be grateful to Wil.

Another book that was especially helpful in converting Raymond's story from third to first person was Herbie Hancock's autobiography, "Possibilities."

One of the challenges of telling Raymond's story was how to include comments from people who were instrumental in the success of All Jokes Aside, such as club manager Ben Ross. That's where I took a cue from Herbie (whom I interviewed by phone a few years ago for a newspaper article) and how he included quotes from those who were instrumental in his life and career. For example, Herbie writes, "Here's how Wayne Shorter remembers that one incident with Miles Davis..."

Because of my passionate interest in music, I read a lot of musicians' autobiographies. While co-writing "All Jokes Aside" with Raymond, I also read "Shining Star" by Phillip Bailey of Earth, Wind & Fire and "The Universal Tone" by Carlos Santana. Both of these books provided answers on how to put together the puzzle of Raymond's story.

For example, Raymond and I quoted from Phillip Bailey's autobiography when talking about how black customers tend to wait until the last minute to buy tickets to entertainment events - something that happened at both EWF concerts and All Jokes Aside comedy shows.

These examples illustrate why reading a wide variety of material is important as a writer.

Small World: Before I Met My Co-Author, I Met His Mentor

Cliches become cliches because there's truth to them. In fact, this very observation has become a cliche.

One cliche that has definitely proven to be true is "it's a small world." An example is that before I met Raymond Lambert, my co-author of the new book "All Jokes Aside: Comedy Is a Phunny Business," I met someone closely connected with Raymond.

The person I'm referring to is international businessman Chris Gardner, who wrote the foreword to "All Jokes Aside." Chris' life was the basis of the blockbuster movie "The Pursuit of Happyness," in which he was played by Will Smith. The movie, based on Chris' best-selling memoir, depicts his rise from homelessness with his son to being a top investment banker.

As Raymond describes in "All Jokes Aside," before he and college buddy James Alexander founded the legendary Chicago comedy club of the same name, Raymond also started as an investment banker. Having grown up on the East Coast,  Raymond eventually made his way to Chicago to work for Chris' firm, Gardner Rich.

 

Chris became a friend and mentor to Raymond. While Raymond was working for Chris, Raymond and James got the idea to open a comedy club that would showcase under-used African-American comedians and cater to underserved black patrons.

Several years before I met Raymond through Washington Post reporter Wil Haygood (who Raymond originally approached to co-write "All Jokes Aside"), I actually met Chris Gardner when he visited my hometown of Columbus, Ohio, in 2007. I was working as a reporter for ThisWeek Newspapers, covering the schools in the northeast suburb Gahanna, and interviewed Chris when he came to speak at Columbus Academy. I found Chris easy to talk to and he shared that an attorney who handles some of his most important business lives and practices in Columbus.

A few years later, in 2010, I came across Chris Gardner again when he spoke at my alma mater, The Ohio State University. Chris' appearance at Ohio State prompted me to listen to the audio version of his motivational book, "Start Where You Are: Life Lessons in Getting from Where You Are to Where You Want to Be." I was inspired by his insights into how to achieve fulfillment professionally and in life.

In 2013, I finally had the opportunity to be around Raymond and Chris in the same room. I had driven to Chicago to work on "All Jokes Aside" with Raymond and met him at Chris' office. Chris said he remembered me from our meeting in Columbus.

It's interesting when worlds collide.

The Myth of the Wealthy, Best-Selling Author

When best-selling author Jackie Collins died last September, I went into a depression. Not so much because of the loss  of such a great talent - although I'm not ashamed to admit I've read and enjoyed some of Collins' so-called "trashy" books.

 

What depressed me was reading in Collins' final interview in People Magazine that her juicy novel "Hollywood Wives" sold 15 million copies. As is human nature, I couldn't help comparing my own work to Collins' amazing sales record.

I doubt if the sales of my novel, "The Chloe Chronicles," and the nonfiction book I co-wrote with Raymond Lambert, "All Jokes Aside: Comedy Is a Phunny Business," come anywhere close.

As the saying goes, comparison is the thief of joy and confidence.

Several months after Collins' death, just this past June, I came across a much more relatable writer. Author Neal Gabler's fascinating and eye-opening article, "The Secret Shame of Many Middle-Class Americans," in The Atlantic exposes the truth of many working writers.

 

Looking at Gabler's list of accomplishments, it would seem that he's "made it" and is living the American dream. He's won critical raves for his books, including a well-received biography of Barbra Streisand, written for television, holds a master's degree, has taught at prestigious colleges, and even had one of his works optioned by Oscar-winning filmmaker Martin Scorsese. 

 

But as Gabler reveals in The Atlantic article, he and his wife often struggle financially. He admits that like millions of Americans, there have been many times when he couldn't afford a $400 emergency without borrowing. 

 

Comparing Gabler and Collins is a study in contrasts. Collins lived a lavish life in Beverly Hills, while Gabler lives thriftily on the opposite coast in the Hamptons. As Gabler describes in his article, though the Hamptons have an image as the playground for the rich and famous, his modest house is situated where the "poor people" live year-round, unlike the vacation homes of the wealthy jet-set crowd.

Collins and Gabler represent two very different realities: Collins was like a character in one of her far-fetched plots, living in high style and rubbing shoulders with the Hollywood elite, while Gabler's humble lifestyle reflects the everyday life of many working folks, including us writers.

Reading about another accomplished writer also helped me put things into perspective. Earlier this year I read "The Last Interview and Other Conversations: Philip K. Dick," which contains a collection of interviews with the late science fiction writer. Since his death in 1982 at the age of 53, Dick has gained respect as a visionary writer whose novel "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" was the basis for the classic sci-if flick "Blade Runner."

During his lifetime, however, Dick struggled to make ends meet. In one interview, he related that once when he was shopping for groceries, he found himself envying the cashier, who probably made more money than him.

Many of us writers have dreams of penning a bestseller - or, like Collins, penning multiple bestsellers and living a fabulous life in which our works rake in huge advances from mainstream publishers and a steady stream of royalties that enable us to quit our day jobs. In this fantasy, we can leave our financial concerns to a phalanx of accountants and business managers. And like Collins, we can live in a glamorous place like Beverly Hills, rolling out of bed each morning in our sprawling manses and retreating to our well-appointed home office to spend a few hours cranking out our next bestseller.

But for many of us writers, our realities are more like Gabler and Dick. We remain committed to telling our storiesm, but we must live within in our means and rely on incoming generated by day jobs, moonlighting gigs and/or supportive spouses and extended family who take up the slack while we pursue our dreams.

Is the struggle worth it? If you're someone for whom storytelling is a passion, then the answer is a resounding yes.

Gabler summed it up eloquently in his article: "I chose to become a writer, which is a financially perilous profession. ... I chose to write long books that required years of work, even though my advances would be stretched to the breaking point and, it turned out, beyond. We all make those sorts of choices. ... These are the choices that define who we are. We don't make them with our financial well-being in mind, though maybe we should. We make them with our lives in mind. The alternative is to be another person."

Memories of the Drexel

The Drexel Theatre, my hometown arthouse theater that showcases independent movies from around the world, reopens today after a $1.5 million renovation. 

I recently got a behind-the-scenes tour of the "new and improved" facility as part of an article I wrote for the current edition of the Bexley News. One of the coolest parts of the tour was seeing the projection room, where the magic of the moviegoing experience begins.

The projection room at the Drexel Theatre.

 

The Drexel is within walking distance of where I grew up in Columbus, Ohio, so I always thought of it as one of several neighborhood movie theaters that were going strong when I came of age in the '80s (long before the advent of the multiplex). One of my fondest memories of the Drexel is that it's the landmark where I was first exposed to independent cinema. As an eighth grader at Holy Spirit School, I snuck into an R-rated movie at the art deco picture palace.

I was otherwise a very well-behaved and obedient child, but one afternoon in 1985, I decided that instead of going straight home from school like I was supposed to, I'd head to the Drexel and check out what was playing. Like the rebellious character Gigi in my novel "The Chloe Chronicles," I bought a ticket to a tame PG-rated movie and proceeded to duck into a much more interesting R-rated feature instead.

I'm not sure why the comedy/drama "The Coca-Cola Kid" appealed to my 13-year-old sensibilities. Maybe because it was 1985 and "New Coke" had just come out and was all the rage.

Sitting in the darkened theater in my Catholic schoolboy uniform, I felt very sophisticated watching this sexy foreign film, which starred Aussie actress Greta Scacchi and American actor Eric Roberts (who rose to fame before his little sister, Julia; perhaps you've heard of her). 

"The Coca-Cola Kid" was the first indie movie that I bought a ticket to with my own money. Even as a sheltered middle-school kid, I could tell there was something different about this movie. It wasn't as formulaic and predictable as the mainstream movies that I voraciously consumed on cable TV in my grandparents' rec room.

Other fond memories of the Drexel:

Meeting actor Joe Morton. I don't remember the occasion that brought Morton to the Drexel, but interviewing him was one of my first assignments for the Call and Post Newspaper in the early '90s. The revered African-American actor is now famous for his role as Olivia Pope's father on "Scandal," but I knew him from the John Sayles indie classic "The Brother from Another Planet." Morton was easy to talk to, especially for the very shy, very green "cub reporter" that I was.

Meeting actor Leon Robinson. Another accomplished black actor, Robinson was in town to promote the movie "Once Upon a Time When We Were Colored." He was also easy to talk to when I interviewed him. I mentioned to him that I grew up watching him as the black saint who comes to life in Madonna's iconic "Like a Prayer" video. When I asked him what it was like working with the Material Girl, he said, "She's totally cool."

Supporting black cinema. Some of the best movies made by and starring African Americans, I've seen at the Drexel. These vehicles made outside the Hollywood mainstream defy stereotypes and present African Americans as three-dimensional human beings, including "Down in the Delta," "Daughters of the Dust," "To Sleep with Anger" and the above-mentioned "Once Upon a Time When We Were Colored," co-starring Robinson and Columbus native Al Freeman Jr.

Family outings. Seeing Robert Duvall's Christian drama "The Apostle" with my grandparents and my grandmother's sister, my Aunt Rudene, was a reel treat (pun intended). Bob and Pearl Bourne (the reason why their last name doesn't have an "A" on the end like mine is a long story) and Rudene Goolsby were never big moviegoers, so seeing a church-related film that we all could enjoy was one of the best moviegoing experiences of my entire life and one of my favorite memories of all time.

 

Is It Ever Okay To Go About Business As Usual After A Tragedy?

The nation is still reeling from the deaths of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile and the murder of five police officers and bystanders during a protest march in Dallas last week.

The racial and social-justice issues associated with these events affects all of us. As President Obama said, "This is not just a black issue. This is not just a Hispanic issue. This is an American issue that we all should care about."

But I would add that as an African American, and particularly as an African American who works in media, I feel particularly touched by these issues. I also feel a responsibility to comment on these issues on social media, to not just go about business as usual when tragedies like these occur.

And, unfortunately, tragedies like these are occurring with disturbing frequency.

As a writer and filmmaker, I depend on social media as an invaluable tool to raise awareness of my work. But, as many of us know, social media has its downsides.

When I awoke the morning of July 8, I was about to post my latest blog entry about the writing life. But when I turned on my computer and found out about the shootings in Dallas, I realized it would be inappropriate to "link-drop" my blog when so much pain and turmoil was going on in the world. 

At the least, self-promotion at a time like that would come across as being indifferent to such horrific incidents; at worst, insensitive.

Artists like myself who hold down day jobs are in a precarious position. On the one hand, you want to be "woke" - socially conscious, informed and engaged. On the other hand, my current and future employment often causes me to feel that I must walk on eggshells in fear that something I post could be misconstrued as offensive.

And it's so easy to offend these days.

I sometimes pre-schedule social media posts. While it may be convenient to write up tweets, Facebook comments and other social media posts in advance, you also run the risk of your pre-scheduled posts going out after a major tragedy has occurred overnight, making you look clueless and tasteless, as if you're like the infamous Emperor Nero, casually playing the fiddle as Rome burns.

What should be the guideline for when and when not to comment on a tragedy? When is it okay to go about business as usual without seeming as if you're uncaring?

In addition to the Dallas shootings, the deaths of Sterling and Castile and the Orlando nightclub tragedy last month, should I have also commented on the attacks at the Istanbul airport and in Baghdad? Does geographical and/or cultural distance from an event give you a free pass to ignore it? Of course not, but where do you draw the line?

These aren't easy questions and there are certainly no easy answers.