Ya gotta start somewhere, right? Here’s a post from Script Reader Pro pointing you in a direction that differs from most starting gigs – because in and of itself, writing a web series can be more creatively and financially rewarding than many of us imagine:
How to Write a Web Series and Get Your TV Writing Career Off the Ground
by Rebecca Norris
Are you an aspiring writer still wondering how to write for TV years after starting down the road? We’re going to show you how writing a web series could be your best move ever if your main aim is to become a TV writer.
This isn’t a post on how to write a web series but here are three reasons why creating your own web series is the best thing you can do to learn how to become a writer for TV.
Wondering How to Become a TV Writer? Write For TV.
What better way to show you can write for TV than actuallywriting for TV? If you want to know how to become a TV writer and produce TV shows, why don’t you live that dream today?
Maybe you can follow in the footsteps of Issa Rae, whose popular web series The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl led her being repped by UTA and 3 Arts Entertainment, and writing for TV — i.e. ABC and HBO.
Create your own TV series on the web, and you can enter it into festivals and contests to win awards and recognition, and gain credibility. If you earn a steady following on sites like YouTube, it can help you pitch your series to networks, and build a fan base for your work.
At the very least, you’ll be seeing your writing come to life, and isn’t that the goal of most aspiring TV writers?
Aspiring TV Writers Should Utilize the Power of the Link!…
Attention, TVWriter™ visitors. Here’s a peek into the kind of email we love to receive…because of the way it can benefit YOU:
I’m Jordan, and I help run theOFFICE, a quiet, communal workspace in Santa Monica. We’ve just launched our 2019 Fellowship where we award one up-and-coming writer a FREE 6-Month Premium Membership to our space. It’s completely free for writers to enter. I thought this could be a great opportunity for your community.
theOFFICE is one of the country’s premiere coworking spaces, serving writers for over 15 years. Current and past members include J.J. Abrams, Joss Whedon, Clark Gregg, Matthew Carnahan, Jen Celotta, Victoria Strouse and a whole host of others. With this fellowship, we’re able to open up the space to an up-and-coming writer who might not yet be able to afford a membership. This is the 6th year we’ve offered this.
If you’re looking for a great writing space in the L.A. area, TheOffice definitely should be on your list. And right now, for the seventh straight year, you have a chance to get your space absolutely free for six months. Here’s how:
You send us a sample of your best piece of writing along with a short email explaining why this fellowship is right for you. Our judges select a winner who will receive 6 months of free 24/7* access to the space. This is equivalent to a Premium Membership, the highest level of membership we offer, worth upwards of $2700. Winner gets their own door code to access the space even when staff isn’t here. You want to write at 2AM on a Wednesday night? The space is yours. You also get all the other perks of membership including unlimited coffee/tea, a locker for storage, Wifi, ergonomic Aeron workstations and all the peace and quiet you need to get the job done.
This year’s fellowship starts May 1st and runs through October 31st, 2019. It is completely free to enter. The winner will be announced the last week of April. Open to all up-and-coming writers who are looking to kick their productivity into overdrive. Think of this as your own writer’s retreat right here in the city!
We love the sound of this situation. If you do too, the place for more info is HERE.
LB’S NOTE:Speaking of where I live now that I’m, erm, sort of retired, here’s another perspective on the city where I abided for about 30 years (with, I admit, a few breaks in places like Santa Fe, NM and – God help me – Orlando, FLA.
by Larry Brody
Throughout my career, one of the most asked questions, usually uttered in a voice so filled with resentment and contempt that makes me want to pull out the AK I don’t (and never will) have and start blasting always has been:
“If I want to write for film or television, do I have to live in L.A.?”
And my answer, with the sweetest smile and mildest tone of voice I can muster, always has been
After which, complete with gasps and looks of anguish the response always has been:
“Ohmigod! No! NO! NO!!!”
Followed most of the time by the questioner taking quick look around for the nearest exit and then, as though propelled by the biggest booster rocket in the U.S. or Chinese or Tesla – excuse me – SpaceX storehouse a run for that very door.
I’ve lived with this for years. But why? What’s the reason for all this hoohah? Why the horror at not being able to write, say, The Good Place, from Iowa City or Oshkosh? I mean, c’mon, what’s the problem?
Maybe we can figure it out by first going through the reason for my answer. Instead of smacking our collective head against the wall in dismay, let’s just ask another question:
“Why? Why do screen and TV writers have to live in L.A.?”
This is a legitimate line of inquiry, to be sure, and there are all kinds of legitimate answers. It boils down to the fact that L.A. is a company town and even now, with the rise of online platforms of all kinds and sizes, showbiz still is the company. If you want to work here, then you have to live here. This is where you make the friends and contacts who will help you make your career.
Simple, no? So why does that seem so horrific to the wannabes at the writers conferences? Why do they react so violently? What do they have against moving to L.A.? Is it the uprooting? Is it the city? Is it the fact that they’ve always had the idea that as writers they are above and beyond the shmoozing engaged in by mere mortal men?
Hey, friends, shmoozing’s the name of the game – just about every game. Let’s face it. No matter what our job titles, we’re all salesmen, selling ourselves. If you want to live the life of the hermit writer, if your heart goes pitter-patter at the thought of staying all alone in your attic ala Emily Dickinson, then TV and screenwriting ain’t for you.
A poem, after all, is an end in itself. Ditto a short story, a novel…anything written to be read. But scripts are written to be performed. Scripts don’t exist all alone. They’re the foundation of a production involving one Acme Ton O’People. So you have to be the kind of person who can stand all those people, who can get along with producers and directors and crew members and even…shudder…actors.
More than get along. To succeed in showbiz you have to actively like all those folks. In fact, it goes further than that. In my experience, the writers who succeed in television and on screen do so because they love the whole package. They don’t merely want to be writers, they WANT TO BE IN SHOWBIZ. They love the whole lifestyle.
The writers who make it are the men and women who grew up as the most frantic of fans. While they were living in Dubuque their bodies tingled at the very words, “Sunset Boulevard,” and “Hollywood and Vine.”
They’re the men and women who read every entertainment column in every local newspaper and magazine, who dreamed of the day their pictures would be in “People” and their privacy invaded on Access Hollywood.
They’re the men and women who love driving down the freeway and looking at the car beside them and seeing that it’s driven by Denzel Washington. The men and women who think that Denzel should be just as thrilled to turn and see them.
The writers who make it love the sun and the surf and the smog, the bikinis and the beautiful people. To them, plastic surgery is a sign of success.
They think a day without a meeting is a day that never was, and the first thing they do when they get a deal is pop for the down payment on a new Porsche. When they get another deal they buy a house in the hills, with a black bottom swimming pool and a coke dealer living next door.
They look at the blacked-out windows of a passing limo and wonder who’s inside and pray to God On High that someday soon others will wonder the same thing as their limos roll by.
They know that regardless of how overpriced and under-tasty the food may be there’s no better restaurant in the world than whichever one is today’s darling. Because they’re there to see who else is there, and to feel fuzzy all over because across from them a middle-aged guy is saying, “Option…” and behind them a bare midriffed babe is saying, “Gross receipts.”
The writers who make it are the men and women who live for the day that their names will be in the gossip columns and they’ll be interviewed on the red carpet at every premiere. They’ll do anything for the time when they can make an Oscar or Emmy acceptance speech, and wave and say, “Thanks, Ma.” They are driven by demons that demand fame and fortune and won’t take anything else. They need more than a blank page to fill, they need glamor and glitz.
Showbiz life is harsh. The Money Gods are impatient, and the rivalry is intense. What makes all the long nights of work and the kissing up worthwhile is the Hollywood Lifestyle, because thatÕs the drug the successful ones crave.
Believe me, I’ve been there, I know. Wives, kids, love, loyalty…those things don’t mean a thing next to getting that great showrunner job.
So, to all of you who keep asking me, “Do I have to live in L.A.?” I say the real question should be:
“Why would you want it any other way?”
If you’re reading this, you probably already know who Larry Brody is. If you need to know more, a good place to start would be HERE. Or HERE. This post is an adaptation of an article on one of TVWriter™’s very own Writers’ Bulletins Resource Pages, which are laid out for all to see, free of charge and/or obligation, HERE.
Actress Ann Dowd tells the 2018 Glamour Women of the Year Summit how it felt to find success later in life, which when you get down to it is a thing we all need to consider, even – gasp! – writers:
by Ann Dowd
I want to tell you a brief story, if I may. When I was a young actress, 30 or so, I was on the way to my waitress job in my black pants and my white shirt and my black tie—glamour is not the word that would come to mind at all. Feminine? No. Nothing. I looked across the street, and there were several limousines parked outside the theater. And I looked at the marquee and it said, “About Last Nightstarring Elizabeth Perkins,” who was my classmate. I was going to wait on tables, and she was going to a premiere of her film that would launch her into stardom.
I got through the shift, and I went home on my porch, and I wept and screamed into the night, “When?! When is my turn?” And it was one of those dark nights of the soul—we’re all familiar, I’m sure. And a voice—I’m not kidding—quiet, probably from the inside, said, “It will all be fine. It will all be all right. You will be in your fifties. You will be 56.” And I said, “Oh no! No, no!”—missing the whole point of the voice—I said, “I’m not waiting until my fifties. I have no intention, so you can take that message and…”
Keep your love story alive.
Well, as it turns out, I was in my fifties, and I was 56 when I did the film called Compliance, which shifted things for me tremendously. But this story is interesting because what do you do between the ages of 30 and 56? Because, as we know, life is long. Life is short, but really life is long in that regard. So, darlings, I want to tell you a few things that I believe deeply in the hopes that it might, in some way, give you a moment to think.
Keep your love story alive—and by love story, I mean the love you have for the work that you do—for it is a pure and powerful dynamic, and it will sustain you. Pay attention and take care of it. We are here to do the work we are able to do, the work we love to do. It doesn’t mean there won’t be ups and downs; there will be plenty of them. Keep the love story alive.
For some reason I had an unshakable faith that all would work out. I don’t know if it’s because of that voice, which I tried to stop and kill, or because I just thought, I am an actress, and that is what I’m going to do….