Why Do TV Executives Suck Worse than Ever? (Part One)

Like a patient with a terminal disease who finds themselves somewhere between grief and denial, most every showrunner goes through specific stages of career frustration when dealing with network and studio executives. The transformation often develops in Five Phases, and ends up being something akin to this:

Phase One: How cool is it the first time you find out that there’s a development/network/ studio executive somewhere in town whom you’ve you never met, but who has read your stuff and wants to meet and/or put you up for a specific job?  Part of you - the part with the healthy ego - will probably wonder ‘What took ‘em so long?’,  but the fact that a total stranger knows who you are and has become a fan (sight unseen) is a great way to jumpstart a career, not to mention doing wonders for your burgeoning self-esteem.

Phase Two: No self-respecting writer really likes getting notes - especially from some snarky studio executive they don’t respect - but the writer who is not inclined to become defensive or supercilious during the note sessions, and who can view the process as inherently collaborative, accepting that a good suggestion can come from anyone (even a moron), is no longer a writer, but is evolving into a writer/producer/showrunner. Given the hiring practices of the industry for the past 25 years, chances are both ‘note giver’ and ‘evolved writer’ hail from the same generation with similar experiences and cultural references

Phase Three:  Theoretically, becoming an executive’s ‘go-to’ guy/gal will lead to that writer being put up for a fair number of writing staffs or creative situations. To remain on an executive’s coveted ‘short list’, it is incumbent for the ambitious writer to be successful. Fixing a script that gets a green light, getting an original pilot produced, saving an incompetent producer from their own ineptitude, and/or saving the executive’s ass is a surefire way to raise one’s status and feel empowered.

Phase Four: Having toiled in the trenches, having developed relationships with at least one production/development executive who, theoretically, has your back, it is only a matter of time before the writer gets an offer to run a television show…

…but unless that showrunner’s show is a smash ratings wise right out of the box (ER; CSI;  Dawson’s Creek) or generates an incredible amount of buzz (Gossip Girl; Felicity, Dawson’s Creek) chances are the new showrunner will be second-guessed and micro-managed to death by the very same executives who had faith in him/her in the first place.

Why the executive betrayal? And why are so many people telling me it’s a lot worse now than ever? Lots of reasons which I will get into next week, but for now, let’s go straight to Phase Five:Phase Five: The Showrunner is so fed up with the nit-picking, the clichés masking as opinions, and the lack of creative and life experience among today’s breed of executives - not to mention the constant haggles over money, and the inherent cynicism and fear that pervades the TV business, and the massive egos that are everywhere, is it any wonder that so many ex-showrunners have begun to produce original programming for the internet and other digital platforms?

To this end I’m starting to wonder, was my main incentive in creating and producing showbizzle.com with my talented, 23 year old daughter, Lindsey, to bring something totally original and fun to a new marketplace - or to free me from having to deal with today’s current group of TV executives?

Hire Your Friends…if you have any left…

We were sitting around the table having the get-acquainted staff lunch. There was me, your aging showrunner; the opinionated head writer whose opinions (and inability to control those opinions) would alienate hundreds co-workers in two countries before we’d be through - but whom the network “loved”, of course. Also there was the starting-to-get- burned-out lesbian with good credits (for a show with a heavy gay presence) whom the network “loved”, of course. Rounding out the staff were the half comedy/half dramady writing team; the attractive, first time, newlywed staffer; and, finally, the writer of color.

Ben (not his real name) was my favorite person in the room during those early lunches.  Smart guy. Ivy League. East LA Hip. But thoughtful. Soulful. When he spoke I listened. But when he turned in his first draft a few weeks later, I mostly knew that I wouldn’t be listening for much longer. Ben couldn’t seem to find the voice of the show. His characters weren’t popping. And he wasn’t that great pitching story beats in the room. In other words, Ben and I were never going to be friends in the television sense of the word because Ben wasn’t making my life easier, wasn’t helping me out. That is the litmus test; the number one requirement between any self-respecting show runner and his/her staff -is it worth paying for the “friendship”? After all, most relationships in television are inherently conditional. Nothing quote kills a friendship like a page one re-write.

Firing people to their face is not an easy thing - especially if you like them and accept the premise that the problem isn’t always their fault. Sometimes it’s the show they are being asked to write. Not all writers are right for every show. It has nothing to do with friendship. Take solace in the fact that, ahem, you are giving a writer back his/her freedom to express themselves in a situation that is more conducive to their voice and creativity. Who knows? Down the road maybe they will remember that you tried to put them out of their misery in a compassionate, straight forward manner, but getting canned is not a pleasant memory. Still, I cling to the hope that Ann or Jennifer have forgiven me for the insult even though both of their distinguished careers eclipsed mine a long time ago.

Of course, then there are the ones you fire out of anger with a regrettable e-mail, or a snide comment. Those you would like to have back - although telling half a writing team ‘to let me know when you cut your partner loose’ remains one of my favorite parting jabs of life - especially knowing that indeed, he ditched his sourpuss partner within the year.

Look, what virtually every showrunner needs more than a friend is a talented colleague who has your back, who will commit nights and weekends, who will tell you the truth, who isn’t afraid of, or alienated by, note givers; and who realizes that a true friendship is born in the trenches and sustained by memory…unconditionally.

Wonder what my memories will be of showbizzle.com, the website I created with my 23 year old daughter Lindsey. We filmed 144 two minute video with 43 actors over 8 days in July to go with the 30 other ones we produced with ten actors back in January. What’s a showrunner without a production, right? Check it out. Come back for more.

When The Phone Stops Ringing

Back in the early ‘90’s, before texting, and IM’ing and e-mails, back when the internet was dial-up, cell phones were bulky and CompuServe was considered cool,  — the ordinary, plug in, ring ring, telephone functioned as the basic lifeline between a television Showrunner and whatever show was being run.In my case, the show was the original “Beverly Hills, 90210″ which I ran for its first five seasons, including all 77 high school episodes, for the legendary and mercurial Aaron Spelling and the fledgling but still imperious, Fox Broadcasting Company - you know, back when ‘the zip code’ was happening and people watched it.

Back then the phone would start ringing early and often. It might be the UPM breaking it to me that our shooting schedule has had to be changed because Shannon missed her make up call - again. Or it could be my semi-regular, early morning chat with Luke Perry adhering to our agreement to get all line changes approved hours before the scene would be film in order to avoid a debate in public on the set. Luke would want new words, new phrases, new dialogue. He’d give new line readings.  I’d mostly would say let’s shoot it two ways - so we’d shoot it two ways, and, somehow, the original lines would mostly end up in the picture. Luke never loved that part of the protocol, but no one took their character more seriously, and brought more passion to the party, than “Dylan McKay”.

Many of the calls would take place on the car phone as I would drive from the Spelling offices on The Miracle Mile, to our post production facilities in Hollywood, out to the seedy warehouse district of Van Nuys where lots of porn and 90210 was shot. I used to strategically place calls I didn’t want to have as I was approaching the canyons, knowing that the static could buy me some time, if nothing else. And, of course, each call would require a different set of brain functions - a business affairs brain being different from the production brain needed to talk casting/wardrobe/location, which again is wholly different from the narrative brain that puts a writer in the showrunner chair in the first place. Breaking original stories for prime time television is no easy task under any circumstances, but fixing story while hustling up Kester to Oxnard is a real confidence booster…

The big calls, of course, would come from the network and from Mr. Spelling’s office - and for them I would pull over to the side of the road. The network calls would be pretty straightforward. There would be notes on scripts. Notes on cuts. Notes on future story lines. Lots of notes. Lots of phone calls — sometimes incredibly heated calls, but always professional and, like I said, fairly straight forward.

Mr. Spelling’s calls on the other hand, welllll, their usefulness would depend on what time the call came through. Many times my producer/friend Jessica would call me in a panic about the call she and her writing partner/husband had had with The Mister about a script or whatever - and my first question would always be “what time did he call you”? And if the answer was “after seven”, I knew it was probably the cocktail hour talking, and that the crisis could be averted in the morning. With Mr. Spelling the time to worry was when the phone wouldn’t ring every day - and that’s when I made sure to walk down the hall and poke my head in the door, and hope that the affable, gracious man, who cared so much about making Tori’s TV show a hit, would be there chewing on his pipe, giving me the creative freedom to do my quirky episodes about talking angels at Xmas (Season Three) or our homage to the 60’s and Woodstock. (Season Four).

Mr. Spelling stopped calling in the middle of Season Five when I informed him that I did not want to come back for Season Six. I was burnt out after 144 hours, and I felt the show was killing me - which got confirmed when one of my arteries shut down less than two months after I left the show.

For the ten years after 90210, the phone still rang because there were other shows, other pilots, other scripts, other deals - but eventually that went slack too - and the phone stopped ringing altogether.  When a showrunner is faced with that grim reality, there is really only one viable option for the writer/producer who is not quite ready to throw in the towel - which is to reinvent ones’ self.

For me, it’s about showbizzle.com, the website I created with my uber-talented 23 year old, writer/director, daughter Lindsey about what it is to be in your 20’s in Hollywood. What it is is scripted entertainment…in the form of a fictitious daily blog…with the goal of putting together a social network of aspiring actors, writers and creative types. We plan to post 174 two-minute videos featuring 43 different actor/characters between now and Thanksgiving. Our slogan is “We’re Different - and we like it that way.” Check it out.

And check out ‘The Ol’ Showrunner’ blog that I will put up every Thursday - as we demystify the process and plan our next moves…Let me know what is up with you. What questions you might want answered. What specific topics you’d like me to explore. I still know quite a few people in the TV business - and some of them are running the top shows on the air. I plan to check in with them - both for the blog and for showbizzle. So stick around. Let’s start the conversation.

cr

THE SHOWRUNNER

 

Charles Rosin was the executive producer/showrunner for the first 144 episodes/five seasons of the original “Beverly Hills, 90210″, when it was happening and people watched it. Under his creative stewardship, the series received a People’s Choice Award, two Golden Globe nominations, and numerous citations and awards for its sensitive handling of contemporary issues such as substance abuse, race relations, and teenage sexuality.

 

  In addition to “90210″, Charles wrote and produced numerous movies, pilots, and series for prime-time television including “St. Elsewhere”, “Remmington Steele”, “Dawson’s Creek” and “South of Nowhere”. As Supervising Producer for “Northern Exposure” (for which he received an Emmy nomination) Charles  wrote “The Aurora Borealis” which TV Guide named as one of the 100 most memorable episodes in American television history.

 

 

  www.showbizzle.com