Why Twitter Matters to Writers

I know, I'm writing a lot about Twitter these days. There's a reason. It's getting to be a force in the writing universe. Consider the following:

I've heard it all before--as have you, "Why bother with Face Book, Twitter, My Space (so not cool now), etc.? Just a black hole of my time and keystrokes. Who has time?" I've heard myself say these same things.

Well, 28-year-old Justin Halpern found the time to setup his Twitter account titled "ShitMyDadSays." It has over 700,000 followers. One of those followers is CBS television. And--please sit down for this so you don't fall down--they just signed Justin to a TV deal. In addition, Justin signed a book deal recently based on his Dad who says shit.

Here's a sample:

"You look just like Stephen Hawking...Relax, I meant like a non-paralyzed version of him. Feel better? ... Fine. Forget I said it."

("ShitMyDadSays," Twitter 2009, Justin Halpern)

I can totally see how a creative executive at a network could run with this. Whoever saw the potential in this tweet made their salary for the year. And they made the right call. This is perfect for sitcom development, and this is the kind of stuff that fuels TV development all the time. I completely see how this could spin off into a multi-camera, family sitcom.

So, why Twitter matters, why Face Book matters, etc., beyond the social networking aspects, is that there are companies out there scouring these sites for ideas. We've all known for a dog's age that media companies have their story department interns reading e-books, watching every new web series, and listening to podiocasts galore. Web series like "Quarterlife" are now legendary for jumping species and moving to TV (disastrously in Quarterlife's case). But, now the focus of the Great Eye is now taking in anything where an ounce of creativity might show itself.

The point here is that writers can no longer take social networking for granted. Social applications where you can create a presence for yourself are gold. They are part of doing business for the writer, like writing every day, or calling your agent every week, or drinking gallons of coffee. You have to have a presence in all these venues. It's time consuming and a pain in the ass, but if you want to work, if you want exposure, if you want to be seen by the Great Eye that sees all things remotely creative, then you have to play the game.

If you watch anyone under thirty, you will notice they spend as much time thumbing their mobile device as they do making eye contact. These are the people who are being hired into power positions at networks and studios. I'm an old fart, but I'm tech savvy and I know this stuff, so I'm not behind the curve. But, how about you? Do you have your blog? Do you have a Twitter account? Are you marketing yourself in all the places you can to maximize visibility for your work and your brand? Even if you don't have a brand?

I'm happy for Justin. But, his story is no different than the stories we used to hear about in the indie movie world where the young-up'n-comer from out of nowhere lands the movie deal for the sixteen millimeter short he/she shot while on summer break from school. We just heard a similar story with the phenom "Paranormal Activity," shot for 15,000 by an unknown director two years ago. Recently released by Paramount, "Paranormal" is now pushing 100 million domestic and hasn't even been released globally. There are always the lottery winners out there who fuel the dreams of struggling filmmakers and writers everywhere. "Hey, that might be me next!" I say dream on, and congratulations Justin.

But, in the meantime, while you wait for the lottery to shine on you, take a cold, hard look at what is happening in the marketplace and on the Web. This is where writers have to be in the years to come (screw years-months). It's just starting. We don't even know how all this is going to end up, because it is constantly evolving. All I know is that Justin is a huge shout to us all to rethink our businesses and our writing. I'm not saying you have to abandon traditional values and/or methods, or that you have to start writing 140-character novels. I'm only suggesting its time to open up the repertoire and design a business model for your career that leverages the world as it is, not as it was.

Publishing, movies, television, it's all changing--and fast. Justin is our canary in the coal mine, only instead of dying form poisonous gases he is flying high for being in the right place at the right time. You can too. It just takes work and attention to your writing life--screw the lottery. You have to be your own lottery.

A Proposal To Save Scripted TV! (Warning: Rant Alert)

Forgive me for letting off steam, but I’m pissed. I’m working on developing a TV series with a company, and it is a grand, fun, fulfilling, and educational experience. I’m really having a great time. Yes, you hear the “but” coming a mile away, don’t you?

But--the mindset that rules how TV series operate is crazy making. First, let me make clear, my middle name is not Pollyanna. I have been trying to produce film and TV content for a long time and have been around the block, swum with the sharks, danced with the devil, and shoveled my own share of s@#it to get projects down the road to development. TV exists to sell soap; it is not an instrument of entertainment, it is a sales tool. TV shows are aired by networks to create a reason for people to watch commercials, not because they are pursuing high-art. This is not true for the Internet (yet), but it is the nature of TV. In short, I have no illusions. I really do get it.

But--with that said, why can’t we just let a TV show have it’s natural life span? Why do we have to drag out a series for nine seasons because economically it makes “sense”? My beef with this comes up now because I’m currently beating my head against this wall with my colleagues. I’m telling them that the show we're trying to put up is a one season killer-diller, any more than that and it will be diluted. They insist it has to “have legs” past one season, otherwise there will be no incentive for the suits and executives to do the show. They simply won’t spend the money if they can’t get it back eight billion fold; meaning the show has to have a multi-season potential.

But--what if it doesn’t? What if it’s just a perfect one-season show? Why can’t it just live its lifespan naturally and die with dignity? Why does it have to go on life support with cranked up subplots, dumb-ass new characters, and forced plot lines? Whatever happened to a dignified death? Well, the answer, of course, is what I’ve just been describing. The damn show is making money! And, actors, directors, writers, etc., are making residuals! The gripe here isn't about making money, residuals, or sheckles. We all want to make more money. The problem is not in what is being made, the problem is in what is not being made! The present industry mindset to "push" a show into extinction vs. limiting a show's life, consciously, to allow room for putting up new and even better shows is the problem. I may be a bonehead for suggesting this, but aren’t we all just drinking the network/advertiser Kool Aid? Isn’t there an alternative? Like a good lawyer, I never ask a question for which I don't know the answer--YES, there is!

But--It will take guts, courage (the two aren’t the same), business savvy, and creative moxie. The solution is to let a show end naturally. Don’t push it, don’t extend it, and don’t put it on life support. If you limit shows to 13 or 26 weeks max, then two things can occur: first, viewers have a truly satisfying experience with the show, because it doesn’t fizzle out and “die” from being forced past it’s natural lifespan. Rather, the show follows its natural course and, like a good book, ends right on time. Viewer is happy, happy, happy. But, advertiser is pissed, pissed, pissed. They’ve just lost a cash cow. Right? Not necessarily.

With shorter series, networks have more space for more shows. With shorter series, more producers get their shows up, more writers are working, more revenue flows, more dollars are out there to buy more soap, and there are more and varied shows on the air to show advertising. Shorter shows don’t have to mean lost revenue. More shows means more creative work is available to be shown. How many great shows never see the light of day simply because networks won’t pull their cash cows from the airwaves to make room for new blood, simply because they are afraid of losing ad dollars? If they are smart (and they are) new product can be put up each season, with more in the pipeline. It can be win-win! If, if, if the creative will is there and the business savvy is in place to make it work. And I believe both those things are out there … somewhere.

But--I hear the wail of despair, “How can we pull performing shows from the air, when they are performing! Are you nuts?” Yes, I am. But that’s beside the point. What I’m suggesting is that even though these shows are performing economically, they probably stopped performing creatively a long time ago. I think that artificially sustaining shows that have died creatively by grasping for new story lines to keep viewer interest only shows that a show has stopped being its intended form and is not being “forced” to keep going despite the fact that it has really ended. Viewers watch anyway, because they’re hooked. That’s a good thing, but why not just hook them on something new, maybe something even better? And in the hooking, more work is generated, more revenue spent, etc., etc., and the great wheel of life in Hollywood continues profitably.

But--I’m not totally pig-headed about this. Seinfeld was the kind of show that could have gone on forever. It’s just the nature of the beast. It wasn’t about anything anyway, so there was not storyline to blow up or mutilate. But, how about Lost, which has been lost for seasons. It was done after its first season. What a perfect example of a show that had nowhere to go after thirteen shows. And then there is Battlestar Galactica, one of the best reborn series in TV history. Three seasons and the producers had the sense to end it. BRAVO! But, it’s spinoff , Caprica, is in the works, so we’ll see. We’ll see.

Be clear that I am not lumping all shows together here. Some shows naturally extend, most don't. What I'm railing against is something like the following:

Cheers, popular 1980s sitcom. Great show, great audience, but as with all great things it started to come to its natural end. But, not wanting to lose the demographic and the time-slot that was generating lots of cash, the producers and network decided to "give the show legs." The decision was made to make a change so they could come up with new story lines to keep their audience. So--what did they do? They had Sam, the womanizing bar-keep fall in love with Diane, the snobbish intellectual waitress. That their mutual antagonism and oil-water banter was the heart of the show, and its success, was of no consequence. Some brilliant exec probably thought, "Hey, if they get on each other's nerves as co-workers, how much more fun will it be if they're boyfriend and girlfriend?" Nice idea, lousy reality. The change altered the show's dynamic and it died faster than the first round Bush bailout bill in Congress today. They killed the show to save it, rather than letting it go out with dignity. This is what I'm talking about ... stupid changes in a show to try to keep it alive. This is the norm, not the exception. This is the problem.

So--To summarize: Shows are like life forms. Some are meant to be Galapagos tortoises (daytime soaps) and live forever, while others are more like a Gastrotrich (multi-cellular bug that lives 3 days). Most shows are more like the Gastrotrich. We can still have profitable shows if we are smart enough to know when a show REALLY needs to die. Viewers can have a better experience, more work will be generated with more slots to fill, more work means more advertising and soap selling, and residuals continue to flow. And creatively things can grow exponentially. It’s a Win Win Win.

But--all the pragmatists and my grounded-in-the-real-world contemporaries out there will, without doubt, come back on all this with, “You’re dreaming! Good luck selling that argument. If they buy this, I’ve got a bridge in Alaska!”

A boy can only dream.