writers need not apply
"What do you do when someone spits in your drink?"
Television writers are upset, depressed, and just plain angry. The reason why can be found a letter from the Television Academy of Arts and Sciences, aka "The People Who Run the Emmys."
If you watch the Emmys, you've seen what happens when the "Best Series" prize is awarded; a ridiculously large group of people go up on stage, where they shift uncomfortably but happily from one foot to another while their boss makes a speech. These are the faces behind the show: the writer-producers, mainly, usually along with a few director-producers and line producers. They are the people who create and round out the characters, design the story arcs, write the words the actors speak. As it turns out, however, these tasks are considered unimportant by an Academy whose raison d'etre is supposed to be acknowledging and rewarding quality of effort. The Academy has determined two things:
1) Only a producer should receive an award for "Best Series."
2) Only a producer who spends a greater portion of their time producing other people's episodes than writing their own should receive an award for "Best Series."
Directing producers, in. Line producers, in. Writing producers... well, the Academy's letter reads:
"A priority of the Acadmy is preserving the value of the Emmy Award thus insuring that those who are most deserving and actively involved are the ones honored with nomination."
That would not include writers, apparently. Though it would include people who do the scheduling and handle the budgets, and it would include producer-directors.
(The award, by the way, is not for "Best Producer." It is called "Best Series." It is simply a tradition that producers have received it; were I King, I'd give everybody on the show an award, and as for who could come up on stage, I'd say, "Choose two writer-producers, two production-oriented producers, and two actors." Because, let's be real. If we're talking about who contributes to "Best Series," the actors have something to do with it.)
Before I go any further, I'm sure you're asking yourself, "Why should I care?" Indeed, you may be asking, "Why should you care?" It's just another stupid awards ceremony, you're thinking.
If you think that, you're correct. But if you think that status in this foolish town does not translate into power, money, and the opportunity to do the work you love, then God bless your naivete. I could write a treatise listing all the ways this is so. And here's the trouble with the way writers fit into this picture: they're low-key. They're pathetically grateful to be making a living writing. Whenever discussions of money take place, within two minutes or less a writer will point out to other writers that we make a comfortable salary in a world where people are starving. This is true, but it's not an attitude that gets you very far in Hollywood. This is a town full of loud-talking narcissists, who walk in laying claim to everything. You may recall the island of Laputa in Gulliver's Travels, where no one could have a conversation without a person designated as an "ear flapper," who would strike the person who was supposed to be listening and make them pay attention. In Hollywood, there are entire companies whose sole reason for existing is to attach themselves to a writer with the promise that they can get somebody to listen to them. (And I'm not talking about agents.) There are directors who direct a pilot, leave, and retain executive producer status for the rest of the series run. A great many people, all along the way, puff up their status and take a huge chunk of power and budget from the studio. Writers, however, come from a long tradition of holing up in their caves and working. They are rarely political. Frankly, they are often political idiots.
They do work, however. Let's talk about that. Writers come up with the ideas that become episodes of the show. On many shows, every writer works on building every single episode, and then one person goes off and writes it. On other shows, every writer contributes to other episodes when asked, and spends the bulk of their time building their own episodes. All writers join in brainstorming general ideas and creating the overall series arcs. None of this counts with the Academy however, and I'll tell you why: it's writing.
Now, shows are all run differently, but on the vast majority of them, writer-producers also have producing duties. This may include re-writing other writers; it almost certainly includes things like casting; participating in concept, tone, scheduling, wardrobe, and production meetings; going on location scouts; giving editing notes; and showing up on set at 6:00 in the morning for the first rehearsal and not leaving till that night's wrap. None of this counts with the Academy, however, and I will tell you why: most often, a writer-producer is producing an episode that they have written themselves. Again, that taint of writing is involved. Each writer-producer is spending a larger proportion of their total hours doing that awful writing than they are producing, and that's just not being "deserving and actively involved" in the show.
Mind you, even if every single writer-producer on a show only produced episodes they'd written themselves, that means that -- why, good heavens! One hundred percent of the episodes of that show were produced by that show's writing staff.
That would be the same staff that used to be eligible for the "Best Series" Emmy. (By this crazy Academy logic, Woody Allen doesn't produce his own movies.)
Now, I can understand the Academy saying, "These groups of people gathering on stage are silly. We want to narrow it down to just four or five people." They're not saying that, by the way; but suppose they were. After all, I'm under no illusion that the world wants to see a bunch of awkward writers standing around. (Though I found it rather sweet and amusing back in the days when I watched from Jersey.) Here's the solution: tell the shows that only three people can be on stage; and they should pick which three. Problem solved!
Or suppose the Academy were saying, "Those Emmy statuettes are too expensive to manufacture. Gotta hold down the numbers." They're not saying that, by the way; but suppose they were. Of course, we'd need to pretend those many thousands of dollars in swag the Academy gives to the presenters aren't happening, but let's put on our fairness glasses and look the other way. Here's the solution: "Each show gets three statuettes. Any of the other winners who want one, they or the show will have to pony up for themselves." Problem solved!
I make these last points only to show that practical concerns are clearly not what is motivating this. Now, you may feel that the Academy's own explanation is sufficient; the people who create the stories, write them, and produce them are simply not contributing sufficiently. That may be your opinion. I can tell you that a couple of other theories are being more prominently discussed. The simplest and most charitable is that the people who make these decisions at the Academy are themselves non-writing producers, production managers, and directors. It is only human to look in the mirror and believe that what they do is the lever-and-fulcrum which moves television. I will note, however, that by an interesting coincidence, this is happening in the same year the Academy decided to drop the "Best Dramatic Writing" Emmy from the telecast. (It was only reinstated after great protest.)
At a certain point, when you continue to take abuse, you cease to garner sympathy and garner a touch of contempt instead. To the credit of writers I've spoken with, they're not just depressed and resigned (their normal state). They're angry. Allow me to quote from an email that I think sums up the feeling (this is in answer to the question, "Are you going to attend the Emmys?" -- mind you, since writers are no longer eligible, invitations will be harder to get anyway. But one often wants to go if only to support friends who are nominated):
”What is your response when someone spits in your drink? The PGA and the people who run the Emmys have looked us in the eye and said they were going to screw us--not some nameless group, but us. They have screwed us. And, in the end, they will screw us. They have clearly said they do not value what we do. They have clearly said that the person who figures out how many years the sets can be amoritized over is more important then the person who came up with the story for episode three.
So, the guestion is, when someone says to you, your contribution is insignificant to the success of the show, when someone insults you, I'm not asking them if I can still come to their party. I don't want any part of them. I will quit the academy and I will not go to the Emmys.”
I don't know how many other writers feel this way, but the bitterness is certainly widespread. Will there be an Emmy boycott? I don't know that, either, but I can tell you I've heard it talked of. And given the strength of feeling, even if people said they were coming, I wouldn't be sure till their butts were in their seats on the day. I haven't seen this much uproar in a while. Here's a quote from another writer:
"I don't know why the Academy wants to destroy the traditions television has been running on for the past decades."
Television writers are upset, depressed, and just plain angry. The reason why can be found a letter from the Television Academy of Arts and Sciences, aka "The People Who Run the Emmys."
If you watch the Emmys, you've seen what happens when the "Best Series" prize is awarded; a ridiculously large group of people go up on stage, where they shift uncomfortably but happily from one foot to another while their boss makes a speech. These are the faces behind the show: the writer-producers, mainly, usually along with a few director-producers and line producers. They are the people who create and round out the characters, design the story arcs, write the words the actors speak. As it turns out, however, these tasks are considered unimportant by an Academy whose raison d'etre is supposed to be acknowledging and rewarding quality of effort. The Academy has determined two things:
1) Only a producer should receive an award for "Best Series."
2) Only a producer who spends a greater portion of their time producing other people's episodes than writing their own should receive an award for "Best Series."
Directing producers, in. Line producers, in. Writing producers... well, the Academy's letter reads:
"A priority of the Acadmy is preserving the value of the Emmy Award thus insuring that those who are most deserving and actively involved are the ones honored with nomination."
That would not include writers, apparently. Though it would include people who do the scheduling and handle the budgets, and it would include producer-directors.
(The award, by the way, is not for "Best Producer." It is called "Best Series." It is simply a tradition that producers have received it; were I King, I'd give everybody on the show an award, and as for who could come up on stage, I'd say, "Choose two writer-producers, two production-oriented producers, and two actors." Because, let's be real. If we're talking about who contributes to "Best Series," the actors have something to do with it.)
Before I go any further, I'm sure you're asking yourself, "Why should I care?" Indeed, you may be asking, "Why should you care?" It's just another stupid awards ceremony, you're thinking.
If you think that, you're correct. But if you think that status in this foolish town does not translate into power, money, and the opportunity to do the work you love, then God bless your naivete. I could write a treatise listing all the ways this is so. And here's the trouble with the way writers fit into this picture: they're low-key. They're pathetically grateful to be making a living writing. Whenever discussions of money take place, within two minutes or less a writer will point out to other writers that we make a comfortable salary in a world where people are starving. This is true, but it's not an attitude that gets you very far in Hollywood. This is a town full of loud-talking narcissists, who walk in laying claim to everything. You may recall the island of Laputa in Gulliver's Travels, where no one could have a conversation without a person designated as an "ear flapper," who would strike the person who was supposed to be listening and make them pay attention. In Hollywood, there are entire companies whose sole reason for existing is to attach themselves to a writer with the promise that they can get somebody to listen to them. (And I'm not talking about agents.) There are directors who direct a pilot, leave, and retain executive producer status for the rest of the series run. A great many people, all along the way, puff up their status and take a huge chunk of power and budget from the studio. Writers, however, come from a long tradition of holing up in their caves and working. They are rarely political. Frankly, they are often political idiots.
They do work, however. Let's talk about that. Writers come up with the ideas that become episodes of the show. On many shows, every writer works on building every single episode, and then one person goes off and writes it. On other shows, every writer contributes to other episodes when asked, and spends the bulk of their time building their own episodes. All writers join in brainstorming general ideas and creating the overall series arcs. None of this counts with the Academy however, and I'll tell you why: it's writing.
Now, shows are all run differently, but on the vast majority of them, writer-producers also have producing duties. This may include re-writing other writers; it almost certainly includes things like casting; participating in concept, tone, scheduling, wardrobe, and production meetings; going on location scouts; giving editing notes; and showing up on set at 6:00 in the morning for the first rehearsal and not leaving till that night's wrap. None of this counts with the Academy, however, and I will tell you why: most often, a writer-producer is producing an episode that they have written themselves. Again, that taint of writing is involved. Each writer-producer is spending a larger proportion of their total hours doing that awful writing than they are producing, and that's just not being "deserving and actively involved" in the show.
Mind you, even if every single writer-producer on a show only produced episodes they'd written themselves, that means that -- why, good heavens! One hundred percent of the episodes of that show were produced by that show's writing staff.
That would be the same staff that used to be eligible for the "Best Series" Emmy. (By this crazy Academy logic, Woody Allen doesn't produce his own movies.)
Now, I can understand the Academy saying, "These groups of people gathering on stage are silly. We want to narrow it down to just four or five people." They're not saying that, by the way; but suppose they were. After all, I'm under no illusion that the world wants to see a bunch of awkward writers standing around. (Though I found it rather sweet and amusing back in the days when I watched from Jersey.) Here's the solution: tell the shows that only three people can be on stage; and they should pick which three. Problem solved!
Or suppose the Academy were saying, "Those Emmy statuettes are too expensive to manufacture. Gotta hold down the numbers." They're not saying that, by the way; but suppose they were. Of course, we'd need to pretend those many thousands of dollars in swag the Academy gives to the presenters aren't happening, but let's put on our fairness glasses and look the other way. Here's the solution: "Each show gets three statuettes. Any of the other winners who want one, they or the show will have to pony up for themselves." Problem solved!
I make these last points only to show that practical concerns are clearly not what is motivating this. Now, you may feel that the Academy's own explanation is sufficient; the people who create the stories, write them, and produce them are simply not contributing sufficiently. That may be your opinion. I can tell you that a couple of other theories are being more prominently discussed. The simplest and most charitable is that the people who make these decisions at the Academy are themselves non-writing producers, production managers, and directors. It is only human to look in the mirror and believe that what they do is the lever-and-fulcrum which moves television. I will note, however, that by an interesting coincidence, this is happening in the same year the Academy decided to drop the "Best Dramatic Writing" Emmy from the telecast. (It was only reinstated after great protest.)
At a certain point, when you continue to take abuse, you cease to garner sympathy and garner a touch of contempt instead. To the credit of writers I've spoken with, they're not just depressed and resigned (their normal state). They're angry. Allow me to quote from an email that I think sums up the feeling (this is in answer to the question, "Are you going to attend the Emmys?" -- mind you, since writers are no longer eligible, invitations will be harder to get anyway. But one often wants to go if only to support friends who are nominated):
”What is your response when someone spits in your drink? The PGA and the people who run the Emmys have looked us in the eye and said they were going to screw us--not some nameless group, but us. They have screwed us. And, in the end, they will screw us. They have clearly said they do not value what we do. They have clearly said that the person who figures out how many years the sets can be amoritized over is more important then the person who came up with the story for episode three.
So, the guestion is, when someone says to you, your contribution is insignificant to the success of the show, when someone insults you, I'm not asking them if I can still come to their party. I don't want any part of them. I will quit the academy and I will not go to the Emmys.”
I don't know how many other writers feel this way, but the bitterness is certainly widespread. Will there be an Emmy boycott? I don't know that, either, but I can tell you I've heard it talked of. And given the strength of feeling, even if people said they were coming, I wouldn't be sure till their butts were in their seats on the day. I haven't seen this much uproar in a while. Here's a quote from another writer:
"I don't know why the Academy wants to destroy the traditions television has been running on for the past decades."