Jane Espenson is wrong.

May 20th, 2007

OK, before I step too far into the land of sacrilege, let me begin with the caveat that I love Jane Espenson. Not only does she maintain one of the most useful blogs a writer could hope to find, adding a genuinely useful tidbit with alarming frequency, but the woman wrote some of my favorite episodes of my favorite show. If you have the tiniest interest in writing for television, her blog is required reading.

That said, I must now officially disagree with one of her recommendations. Yesterday’s journey to the WGA “Breaking into the Box” all-day workshop convinced me.

I have gone back and forth for a while now (as has Ms. Espenson) as to the best kind of material a writer can prepare so that s/he might win a staff job on a TV show. To provide background here, the traditional method for a writer looking to break in has always been to create a “spec” (short for “speculative”) episode of an existing show. The conventional wisdom was that reading a writer’s spec script would help an executive producer see how well the writer can mimic the tone of a show, while hopefully still injecting personal voice. Lately, however, the scuttlebutt has been that showrunners would just as happily see an original writing sample, such as a feature screenplay, a play, or even a short story.

This is an incredibly recent shift in the tide. When I finally decided that TV was where I wanted to point my writing, I crafted my first spec. No sooner had I finished than I came across the advice that you shouldn’t put yourself out there as a prospective TV writer unless you had at least two spec scripts. The first might be a fluke, was the logic, so you need to prove you can deliver more than once. So I wrote a second. Finally prepared, I made the commitment and moved to L.A.

Once I started contacting potential representation, now with authentic L.A. contact information, I had a few replies. Some wanted to read one of my scripts. Some, however, wanted to know if I had anything original to show them. One manager was kind enough to trade e-mail with me, and he explained that showrunners were beginning to ask for something original, and therefore it was what he was now requesting from potential clients as well. Keep in mind, this conversation happened less than a year ago.

Fast forward to yesterday. Because of the big names involved, I dropped the $150 to attend this all-day WGA Foundation workshop on kick-starting one’s career in television, geared specifically to give advice to aspiring TV writers about what executives look for in potential shows, how the writers’ room works, and how to break in. Of all writing events I’ve attended, this was the most impressive collection ever of people doing exactly what I want to do. Consider, for example, the line-up of the second panel: Damon Lindelof (co-creator, Lost), Shawn Ryan (creator, The Shield), Brannon Braga (god of the Star Trek universe), Ian Biederman (creator, Shark), Peter Casey (co-creator, Wings, Frasier), all moderated by Winnie Holsman (creator, My So Called Life.)

At most of the panels, the question of spec vs. original material came up. EVERY guest responded that they preferred to see original material. Every guest. In every panel. One of the panelists would eventually point out that a writer should have both. All the panelists would agree. But you could tell it was an afterthought. Their initial answer–their real answer–was show them something original.

The tide has officially turned.

Only a few reasons were offered for WHY things are now done differently than they always have been. Perhaps the chief reason was not wanting to read yet another spec of the same old shows. With the current proliferation of reality shows, crime show clones, and serialized dramas, there are few shows a writer can spec. As a result, all writers have their episode of The Office or Grey’s Anatomy. Rather than read yet another of those, the showrunners would happily look at a play. Another reason given was that in original work, the reader already knows everything s/he need know to appreciate the writers work, whereas a spec requires knowledge of a show. A biggie seemed to be an overall desire to get to the writer’s own voice. What exactly will a potential hire bring to a show in terms of personal experience, story ideas, and unique contribution to a group?

On Ms. Espenson’s blog. She has cataloged continuing evidence of the shift in requested material. She continues (quite rightly, no doubt) to point out that the Disney fellowship still requires a spec script, and since that is one of the few ways for a novice to break through, a spec is worth creating. Plus, she is an alumna, and it clearly was a fantastic stepping stone for her. At this point in my career, though, I suddenly feel less pressure to knock out another spec. I have a pair that are viable for a (short) while longer. Therefore, I no longer need to feel guilty working on a feature script, even though I truly want to write for TV. When I finish my feature, I’ll not only be able to use it as a writing sample for TV gatekeepers, but I’ll also have a feature. It has other uses. If I write another TV spec, I can only use it for one thing, and it’s not even the preferred method for that one thing.

(Of course, I’m still going to take a stab at meeting her challenge to have a brand new spec ready by the Disney deadline. Writers write, right?)

SIDE NOTE: The Warner Bros. workshop currently contains a message that they are revamping their process and will post further information on June 15th. I wonder if they are considering a shift in submission material, along with whatever other changes they may be making.