4 Tips on how to write a TV Pilot, from a working writer

Writing TV can be an exciting, as well as daunting, endeavor. You're not just writing one good script, you're writing the opening act to an entire saga, a story that could run 3-100 episodes, depending on the project. Maybe it's a five series fantasy epic, or a four part family drama about a forgotten murder: whatever it is, it's a big job that can, if you find the right people, pay off big.

As someone who's been at this for several years, with stuff broadcast and in development, I've learnt my share along the way. I've written for kids and adults, worked in ITV Studios and gotten recommendations from some rather hefty players in the business. I don't claim to know all: I'm still learning too, but I hope you can avoid some of my own blunders with this quartet of advice.

1. Build your series treatment/bible first, not your pilot

A television pilot is more akin to the first chapter of a book than a whole novel: it's the introduction, the setup that will give us a taste and template of what's to come. How many times have you ever heard of an author planning and writing just the first chapter of their book? 

A series bible/treatment is basically everything your show has to offer: the cast of characters, the theme and central conflict, the setting, the storylines you will tell, rough ideas for upcoming episodes. People may be wowed with twisty-turny plot, but they won't be back for more if the characters don't click, so spend the time in this document to flesh them out, give them flaws, arcs, secrets. Another important thing to remember: TV casts tend to be big, which means you also need to think about how relationships between the characters and what conflicts they have (that's a keyword, so remember) over the course of the series.

2. Please have subplots, and have them be discernible

Do not fall into the trap of having your pilot be nothing but A Plot, A Plot, A Plot. You need subplots to not only fill the runtime, but also give your cast more to do and see the characters be explored. In a pilot, these subplots will often also help set up longer running storylines and conflicts: secret romances, betrayals, family stories, alternate perspectives, the plans of the antagonist.

If you've done your bible, there's less risk of this not being present. However, this is where outlining will help too: being able to have clearly defined A, B, C and even D plots (sometimes you may even get E and F, depending on the type of show and the length) will enable you to treat them like individual stories, not random scenes that break up the main action for no reason.

3. Everyman/ordinary protagonists should not be dull

The protagonist, hero or dick, is the person we will be following throughout the whole show. Even if they are not a Sherlock-level genius, or a Marvel superhero, they should still be complex and interesting. Even if they still live with their parents and work a crappy till job in a deadend town, they will still be three-dimensional people with hopes, dreams and vices. If they don't care, why should we bother watching them?

Often, an ordinary protagonist is a reflection of the writer, and while there's nothing wrong with that, it's important to step outside your own head: just because you know something and take it as a given with your views and personality, that does not mean it will make sense on the page or be clear to the reader. Even if they are based on someone real, do the work and make them come alive on the page.

4. Be economical with your sets

While budget is less important than a good story and characters in a spec script, remember it's still television. if we are constantly changing locations every single scene, not only will the cost go up, but it means the show has no anchor. People, even the rich and diabolical, still have places to live and hang. Homes, hangouts like clubs or bars; businesses and places of work like shops, offices and schools, even vehicles they often are in like cars, trains and buses.

These places effectively function as precincts, as returnable standing sets that will help get the most out of the budget, and as a place where multiple characters can be expected to interact, thus creating conflict and drama. This is true, even in animation where there isn't a hard limit on sets because no construction costs: characters on those shows still have places they frequent. Ducktales has McDuck Manor and the Money Bin; Octonauts has their ship and underwater base; Simpsons has the house, Moe's Tavern, the Plant, Springfield Elementary, the church, the Retirement Castle, the Aztec Cinema, the list goes on.

I hope these will be of use to you. If you still feel like you need more help, I've also done a list of books I'd recommend about TV writing. Go check it out!

Screenwriting Professionally: 2022 edition

Another year, another time to reflect on the highs and lows of my screenwriting efforts. Some big pushes, some amazing experiences, and some terrible reversals. I was also able to finally travel again after nearly three years of being stuck in London, so huzzah!

I had dubbed 2021 as being 'one step forward and two steps back'. Is that also an apt summary of 2022, per what I just wrote? Well, that'll take a bit longer to explain. No more preamble, let's just go!

Jan-Mar (Winter): 

In past entries, I've written that this is the 'quiet' period of the year for me. Not so this time - a few days in, an email lands in my inbox and BAM, won ITV Original Voices and got to be one of the four placements on Emmerdale. It would be an even split - part done at home, part hauling myself up to Leeds and getting to work in ITV Studios. I got the second slot, meaning my tour of duty would start in March.

Don't think that meant I was slacking off though: I was grinding away a pitch for my episode of Doctors. I had sent a script off to a lovely producer on River City. I also got hired to consult on a children's book about disabilities, being published by none other than Penguin Random House (thank you Laura Henry-Allain). A picture book for little kids and their families, it offered a simple and colourful introduction and guide to disabilities, what they entail and how to make a better world for them. It aimed to be supportive, thoughtful and celebratory - no tragedy or sadness, here!

I wished for so long to have things pep up at the start of a year - well, I got it!

Apr-Jun (Spring):  

Busy busy busy! Emmerdale was a rollercoaster, going from storylining to script editing to finally a trial script. Always on my toes and always new challenges, surrounded by a fantastically helpful team. Those were some lively rooms, with no shortage of jokes (and sweet treats to boost morale!) and I even got to visit the interior sets - the Woolpack, the various houses, the prop room, all very cool.

And if you think that was all on my plate, oh ho ho no! I was doing a long overdue rewrite on the pilot script for Brenda and Effie, aiming to extract more from the wonderfully wacky world of Paul Magrs' unique imagination. River City got back to me in remarkable time, we got chatting and I was eventually able to set up for my own episode (bypassing the shadow scheme used by other soaps). It was frantic and tiring, but you know what? It was also exhilarating. Years of strife and struggle, doubt and fears over my own ability, and here was not one but two major UK dramas validating my ability.

It wasn't all sunshine, however: on top of a string of annoying stomach bugs, I also found Doctors sputtering a bit - there was a change in script editors, which left my pitch needing to undergo more rewrites. To be clear, the new person (or interim, rather) was very nice and helpful, but it was now approaching half a year since I'd been given the go-ahead to do an episode, and still it wasn't moving as I'd have liked it to. In addition, due to the new workload, all work on original specs had to stop, meaning I was now two years without a new spec available for my agent. Still, better money coming in than not.

Jul-Sept (Summer): 

And here comes the not-fun part of this trip down memory lane. I wrapped Brenda & Effie and then dove into River City. Got my first payment for the script, which I proudly showed my folks - I HAD MADE IT! What was meant to be the culmination of my journey thus far, the next step into television drama, however, turned into a crushing defeat. So enraptured in my own desire for success was I, I wasn't taking my notice of my own wellbeing. After three years of no real break or holiday (if I wasn't writing, I was planning or doing some other work), my mind was out of it. I hadn't seen my brother or my nephew in even longer, missing out on seeing him grow up. I wasn't spotting things in my work, and that's when mistakes started happening. Big mistakes.

I wasn't happy - every rewrite just didn't sit right with me. Something was missing, something wasn't clicking. I hadn't got the voice of the show right, even if I was writing passable drama with proper structure. With feedback and deadlines tight, an ability to recalibrate was also not on the cards. I was up at dawn, pounding out words without the passion or fun that should come with the craft. It was monotonous, draining and my desperation to finally conquer a personal milestone was likely all that was keeping me chugging. Until I got the phone call that is.

It hurt. The River City staff were kind and graceful, don't misunderstand, but I was kicking myself. I hadn't seen the problems, and now, it was too late. I made a decision: I had to get out. Get out of London, get out of the UK, just get away from writing for a while. Recharge. Re-evaluate. Clear my head and see what changes needed to be done. So, I joined my family over in Spain for their holiday, met up with my brother (but not my nephew, alas) and took the clean country air. No internet, just food and folks. It was exactly what I had been needing for a long time.

Oct-Dec (Winter again): 

Coming back to the UK (and boy howdy, had things happened in my absence!), I knew what I needed to do: Get my passion back and write original specs. How? By completely upending my writing methodology and routine, taking help from The Organized Writer by Anthony Johnston. A complete rethink of how I scheduled my day and how much work I took on: if I was to make things right and put myself back on track, I needed to work smarter, not harder. Split the day up by projects into short, manageable chunks.

Result: most output I've done in a long time, with stress down and some comprehensive treatments finally written. They currently comprise a cosy crime, a thriller and a teen drama, with some other stuff kicking around. After such a long gap, it feels incredible.

And  that's not all either: been talking to some shows, so see what comes of that; done some more consultation work on the disability book as well as on a children's project. Doctors is still an unknown, though conversations have been happening.

 

'One step forward and two steps back': to answer myself, is it an accurate summary of 2022? I mean, did I really go backwards at all? I am still grateful for the successes I did have, even with my loss. I got right into the beating hearts of major shows and learnt a lot, even revising and changing some of my own methods along the way. I didn't hit my big target, but I hit smaller ones along the way.

Most important, and this is another point I raised in the last recap: I implemented long overdue changes to how I work. It's a shame it took what it took, but I'm glad for it. We can get so buried in our work and dreams that we forget to take a step back and realize that something isn't working anymore. We need to be able to tap the brakes and rejig: even a few days away can do wonders to clean the cobwebs.

What do I want out of 2023? Well aside from the usual of gigs and pay, being able to get the new specs, however they turn out, out into the industry. Variety is not just the spice of life, but also of an artistic career, and I want to get into more exciting and thrilling genres of TV. I know I have more to offer and i want to showcase that. Film? One day perhaps...

I'm joining Emmerdale (ITV Original Voices 2021)

Only a few months after my big score on BBC's Doctors, this happens. 

I completed the 2021 ITV Original Voices scheme (you may recall I did the 2019 intake for Coronation Street, but didn't make the final four. If you want to refresh, or learn about it if you're new, here) and got chosen to do a three-month comprehensive placement in the story and script departments of this long-running country drama. It's not unlike the Writer's Scheme from Doctors, but more expansive: you learn every step that it takes to make an episode. At the end, I do another shadow/trial script for the show. If they like it, well, who knows what opportunities arise?

It is amusing for me to get this: Emmerdale has been a constant in my life, coming in and out. Being the son of Spanish migrants who grew up rural, the show always gave me a cozy nostalgic feeling when I was away from Spain. Back when I was at Met Film School, doing my masters in screenwriting, I met none other than head honcho of the ITV soaps, John Whiston, down in London. Really nice guy, had lots of advice about television and we stayed in touch since. He even read and really liked a script of mine!

So, a big fat thanks to everyone on the Emmerdale team, for giving me this opportunity, as well as Michelle Goode of Writersofluid, whose notes helped the script that got me onto both Original Voices schemes, as well as on Doctors (a reminder that a good script keeps on giving and giving). And not forgetting my friends and family, who've cheered me on as the application and test script for this part of the scheme were done on super-tight turnaround. Including the great Mr. Josh Merritt, a fine artist in his own right, cheerleading me on.

Screenwriting Professionally: 2021 edition

In what's become an annual tradition, I recount the highs and lows of my screenwriting efforts in the last year. A special year indeed: 2021 was my first year as an agented writer, thanks to the great Andy Townsend. It marked my first steps into broadcast drama and was the first time, in nearly a year, that I was able to start working outside again, as is my preference. The COVID pandemic had been, and still is, profoundly surreal, and trying to get back into 'the swing' after such a seismic shift in culture and society has been tricky.

Has it been a better year than 2020? A firm YES - vaccinated, got talking to industry folk again and my productivity was up a good 100% compared to said prior. Was it a good year, for me? Did I achieve my own goals and did I grow as a writer? That is much more complicated to answer.

 
Jan-Mar (Winter): 

At first, the year started relatively quiet and slow - with my vaccine eligibility still months off, I was endeavouring to power through my action drama pilot, best as I could. I had been tinkering away on it since last autumn, believing it was a great new challenge, as well as showcasing my ability to write setpieces and something with a faster pace. Writing from home, given I live in a flat with others, was incredibly difficult: always distractions.

On the flip side, however, I progressed through the BBC New Voices scheme from last year. Now I got to do a Writer's room for series 2 of Jojo & Gran Gran (a Cbeebies megahit). Working with the producers and script editors of the series to conjure up stories and learn the particular flavour of the show was indeed a lot of fun. I even got to make the acquaintance of its lovely creator, Laura Henry-Allain.

Apr-Jun (Spring):   

Now this period ended very differently to how it started: work slogged on with the action pilot, but that lack of 'space' was possibly the worst it ever was. Work that should've been a few hours took days, if not weeks, to turn around. No matter how bad I wanted it, it was hard to muster up the energy. Add to that, a family health scare, and it was rough.

There appeared to be two bright spots amidst all this. Two things that could turn it around: first was my agent liked an old crime spec I had on the backburner, which needed some punch ups. The other was a new disability initiative on one of the continuing dramas, which itself was partially following through an earlier script submission I had made to the production team, which they had liked. If I could land these, the blockage would finally clear and I'd be back, right into the heart of the action. A new submission in a lucrative genre, and a shot on a beloved show.

And it all went wrong.

The timing of the scheme conflicted with rewrites, and due to a misguided sense of hope, mixed with a few drops of arrogance, I decided to put the crime pilot aside again. In the moment, it seemed like the right choice: the pilot was revealing deeper layers of problems, and the circumstances around the scheme, I thought, meant I was a shoe-in. I also, for reasons that make even less sense, decided to go full charge with the action pilot, thinking it was near finished (forgetting my own rules on having a varied slate). A few things happened regarding said scheme, which I cannot put up for public knowledge at this time, that meant it was not to be, and for reasons which I still have questions over.

At this point, I was feeling miserable. I had taken a gamble and it completely blew up in my face. Thankfully, it wasn't all gloom: I had kept in touch with a script editor-turned-producer from Doctors, who I sent over a script to. My own manners and diligence had, at least, granted me this much needed lifeline.

Jul-Sept (Summer): 

And here begins my Doctors journey. The script was liked, passed onto another script editor, Mary Flannigan, and ta-da, I was on the Writer's scheme. I've got posts planned to detail the process further, but over the coming months, I would pitch, draft and rewrite a trial script for the show under Mary's guidance. After what had happened with the 'other' show, this was such a boost and I loved the experience. 

Plus, with my first shot in, I could start to think about getting outside again. I went, for the first time in my life, office hunting. It's a minefield, to put it lightly. Eventually, however, I found just the place and began to work from there.

As for the action pilot... I had begun to reversion it, trying to solve a problem around the protagonists that emerged in notes. What started out as something closer to Donnie Brasco was starting to drift into more of a mother-son story with this element of homegrown fascism. It wasn't a bad approach, and I thought it would add a lot of intensity and action to the project. However, what I should've realized, as the drafts and brainstorms worn on, was that I had screwed up. Not here, but back to the project's origins. I hadn't done my due diligence and was building on weak foundations, with a script that ended up more mimicking other shows than being its own thing.  

How had this happened: anxieties. I was worried about getting work and chasing shows I liked, that I wasn't paying attention to the right things. A writer must endeavor to maintain a clear and cool head in tough times, otherwise this can happen.

Oct-Dec (Winter again): 

The action pilot, not unlike a plane featured in it, finally crashed here. A last ditch effort to rescue the project by doing more a Shakespearean family tragedy, trying to add dimension to the lead, was a no-go. I felt awful: months of work and after all that, nothing to show for it. In two years, no new spec.

Doctors, thankfully, rode to the rescue again: I completed the scheme and secured the big prize: getting to write my first broadcast TV drama script. As of writing this, still on the treatment stage, but considering how fast the scheme went by, and what had happened earlier in the year, it was nothing short of a miracle. In addition, ITV called out yet again, with me landing on the 2021 Original Voices scheme, this time for Emmerdale. After a fun zoom workshop, I got to draft half an episode of a hypothetical episode.  In that same week, I attended the launch of Underlying Health Condition, and did some pitches for a major northern production company, so hey, the year ends on a bang!

Returning to the above question, did I accomplish everything I wanted? No. The saying 'one step forward and two steps back' is an apt summary of 2021: I am grateful for the success I did have. Breaking the continuing drama deadlock is a huge win, whatever else can be said. But where I failed, indisputably, was in craft: I did not grow as much as I had wanted to, and in turn, hurt my slate. I forgot basic principles and charged into situations with the wrong mindset. Never put your eggs on one basket, always spread yourself out and never take anything for granted.

 If I want 2022 to really hit the heights, changes will have to be implemented and certain tenets revisited. Discipline needs to be re-instilled: I fought hard to get here, and I'm not backing down.

What next for UK Film & TV? - A Response to Ewan Morrison and John McVay

Crystal balls are not much help right now, as everything is in flux and could go any which way. June looks like a make-or-break month: thus far, VE Day and other bank holidays haven't lead to an explosion in cases, but will that hold true as kids go back to school and shops reopen?

On the Film & TV side, it's also very touch and go: Soaps are developing strategies to shoot and keep elderly actors off as much as possible, with Emmerdale resuming operations last month, Coronation Street next week and Eastenders aiming to do so by June's end. What's more, Warner Bros., Disney and Netflix are working with the Tory government to restart in the next month or so, with safety measures, on major productions like The Little Mermaid and Matt Reeves' The Batman. Ideas being put forward include skeleton crews for filming; actors doing self-makeup; floor markings; minimizing stunts; prioritizing outdoor shooting and favouring local crews.

But that's now - what about new productions? What kind of shows could be made? Well, the BBC ran a piece, interviewing several high-profile industry folk on that question. Among them were screenwriter Ewan Morrison (The Outlaw King) and PACT boss John McVay, who voiced thoughts and concerns. The main ones being settings for shows, as well as scale and logistics.

Both raise valid and important points: the bigger the project, the more headaches it will be to keep everyone safe. The reduction in spectacle, too, could lead to some more creative filmmaking and storytelling that isn't reliant on eye-candy to woo audiences - indeed, such a cost cut from budgets could lead to some leveling of opportunities for lower-tier writers to staff on more prestigious shows, now that you don't have to fret so much over money. Morrison's remark about seeing more shows in both smaller yet more fantastical locales like space or underwater could lead to a resurgence in domestic genre programming, which is great for nerds like me who want more homegrown sci-fi and fantasy (and even work on them...).

From my end, I think the idea that we could be entering an era of more conservatively budgeted shows that could, as a by-product, take more risks (in slight difference to Morrison's view) is a huge-plus for new talent, an issue that both Film and TV have, admittedly, not done a great job of engaging with. Apprenticeships and prizes are all well and good, but newcomers need solid, professional credits to get anywhere. That said, this is still a short-term solution: like it or not, you can only reskin a confined show so many times before people will want to see dragons and armies again. A healthy industry, regardless of circumstance, is one that produces a variety of content - too much in either high or low is bad for creatively, careers and culture. Expensive shows limit who can work on them, but cheap ones will only be able to take on so many people. In addition, depending on the show, certain people may get left out altogether: make-up artists, special effects artists, set designers, costumers, stunt people etc.

Like it or not, McVay must know that eventually, big shows will have to start up again. You're dealing with months, if not years, of contracts, deals and other paperwork behind these big-timers, and far too many types of professionals who need the work. You obviously don't want sets to become outbreak points, but this, like so much else in the Covid pandemic, is the result of various societal problems crashing into each other. I think this present anxiety is based on an idea of Covid remaining exactly as it is right now, which no version of the science, optimistic or pessimistic, supports. As discussed before, our understanding of Covid has rapidly changed, and relatively fast. Even if we don't get a vaccine by year's end, we will likely have measures, and probably treatments, in place to file off the worst parts (ala HIV).

As for Morrison's 'resurgence of big-budget animation' prediction, I'm going to have to err on no from a drama POV (though Morrison doesn't specify what age-group he's indicating: does he mean a four-quadrant British Pixar, or a return to the more experimental days of Watership Down and The Plague Dogs?) Anyone involved in animation fandom has seen this crop up many times over the years - the odds of the BBC or ITV making what amounts to British Anime (animation meant for a prime-time audience that isn't strictly comedy, to pick up the current need for drama shows) is pretty much a non-starter. Amazon and Netflix might (and have) in small doses, but by the time you could get a dramatic show animated, the live-action industry will likely have found workarounds on how to shoot, thus rendering it moot in most cases.

Plus, working from home doesn't mean the process'll go any faster in creating regular cartoons and adult animated series - material still has to be vetted, altered and given notes, in addition to all the pre-planning like designing, storyboards and animatics.

In so far as Morrison's worries over Covid being an excuse for producers to double down on adaptations - on the one hand, that's a real risk. In times of trouble, people stick with what's familiar. People who already bemoan our TV being dominated with novel adaptations have every right to feel frustrated, and that IP value is only going to increase as companies need to carefully marshal resources and pick the best project to get a return on.

At the same time, however, I do think we must be careful not to adopt a dismissive attitude (especially not after Morrison advocated a progressive stance with genre content earlier in the piece) - in times where money will be tight and people, including and especially children's, access to the arts is going to be impacted, Film and TV could pick up the slack and introduce classic works to new generations. How many of our favourite books, sometimes the very things that inspired into creative careers, came out of us watching the movie or TV version first? And, frankly, shouldn't creating quality productions matter more than where they came from?

Something which the article doesn't touch on much, but anyone active on Twitter and the like has seen, is the indie debate. There, the question is could this be a new golden age for independent films and content that can be made with few resources and people? Some seem very confident in it, and I see the rationale, but there's a flip side: these projects may be more open and able to social distance, but the lack of money also means less PPE and safety measures can be put in place. how many actors and filmmakers are going to gamble on a project which pays little-to-nothing, just for exposure? (if anything, the golden age could be for audio productions.)

It will be tough - you're effectively rewriting decades worth of habits and practices in a matter of weeks. For newcomers, it's a scary time and it seems like it could all vanish at the drop of a hat. For veterans and even for those of us who have climbed up the first couple of rungs, like myself, it's all on the razor's edge, and only by being wily and careful, can we navigate this.

But, as McVay himself points out, this could be an era of innovation, where cream rises to the top and we find ways to overcome adversity. This could, too, see a meaningful increase in diversity behind and in front of the camera as new opportunities and methods arise. Some doors close, but others could yet open.