On the contrary, a pilot that throws us into the action, with the premise already set up, is often called a “third episode,” as in it uses the same structure as the third episode would use, when the series engine is established. Scandal is an example of a third episode pilot; Olivia Pope and her employees are already well-seasoned in what they do, and we are brought up to speed quickly. The case-of-the-week begins six minutes into the pilot when Lt. Colonel Sully walks into Olivia’s agency, covered in blood, and says he didn’t kill his girlfriend. If Scandal was a premise pilot, we may have opened with Olivia Pope graduating law school and taking her first job, and maybe Act One would end with her opening up her own firm.
No matter which type of pilot you write, it always helps to begin the story as soon as possible. Cut out anything that only exists as setup or exposition without advancing the central throughline of the episode. Enter the action of your story as late as possible in the world but as soon as possible in the script. Does that make sense? Think of it like this: if your world is homicide detectives in New York City, do you begin the story in the police academy or once our protagonist is already on the job? Do you open on them getting coffee at Starbucks or walking into a luxury loft where a beat cop ushers them to the dead body on the kitchen floor? In both cases, I’d go with the latter option, unless the former option can be written so as to immediately advance the present line of action.
There’s no time to waste. The reader is anxious. Get to the good stuff ASAP.
It should be noted that in the original pilot script for “Scandal,” Sully walks into the agency on page 12, which would have corresponded to 12 minutes into the episode. They wisely moved up this Inciting Incident for the actual episode to minute six, getting the case started in half the time.
Most competent rewrites trim the fat and get the story moving quicker, while maintaining the same essential beats and character moments in the first couple acts. They just do it with fewer words, which just so happens to be one of the central skills of the experienced screenwriter.
YOUR PILOT
A FASCINATING PROTAGONIST
Every TV series begins with a compelling character. Your main character, the protagonist, is the anchor of the show. Your leading woman or man must be someone that we really want to spend time with. A lot of time, maybe even years, if the show is a hit. That’s a big time commitment for a viewer! So make your hero worth the investment. Make them fascinating.
Let’s look at some of the characteristics of a strong TV protagonist.
Hero/Anti-Hero/Newborn/Fish out of Water: Which archetype best fits your protagonist? A hero is someone we root for because they always try to do the right thing (Raylan Givens in Justified). An Anti-Hero is someone we root for despite them doing horrible things for selfish reasons (Frank Underwood in House of Cards). A Newborn is someone who has just entered a new world which they will show they are fit for (Rick in The Walking Dead). A Fish out of Water is someone who represents the polar opposite of the new dramatic territory they find themselves in (Daenarys in Game of Thrones).
Ordinary/Extraordinary: Is your protagonist an ordinary schmuck who’s been thrown into the deep end of the pool and must sink or swim...or a skilled operator (a “specialist”) who does things we can only dream about? The best protagonists are both, like Walter White of Breaking Bad, an ordinary chemistry teacher who uses his exceptional science skills to become a major force in the drug trade.
Skill: What are they good at? They must be good at something, even if they’re a loser. Even the character we love to laugh at should get a win every now and then.
Redemption Arc: We always want to watch a character struggle to redeem themselves for past sins or to recover from past abuses. The quintessential example of this is Don Draper in Mad Men.
External and Internal Goal: Your protagonist must have something interesting to do in terms of a physical goal and an emotional need and they must take action to achieve these goals. These two goals may form the “A” and “B” stories of your pilot and generate perennial lines of action for the series.
Identifiable (“Rooting Interest”): We don’t have to fully understand or relate to your protagonist, but there should be some reason that we root for them to achieve their goal.
Misbehavior: It’s fun to give your protagonist a trait that consistently creates problems for them. A quirk or compulsion. Obsessive-compulsive disorder, sexism, a short fuse, ego, etc.
Fatal Flaw: This is their worst trait, their Achilles Heel, the blind side that threatens to ruin them. It can be a personality trait, like anger or racism, or an element of backstory, like Don Draper’s true identity as Dick Whitman or Jon Snow’s sense of inadequacy for being the bastard son of Ned Stark.
Assumption of Power: We want to see our hero realize their own true power and unleash a show of strength that makes them come into their own. They take off the mask, throw down the gauntlet, find their courage – however you may label it, I think you need this moment in your pilot and also at the end of each season, if not in every episode.
Identity: Most shows today develop a strong theme of identity around their protagonists. What it means to be a man or woman in society...status... morality...living by a personal “code,” etc. These are all themes that relate to what kind of person our hero yearns to be. Think of the arcs of Walter White in Breaking Bad, Jack in Lost and Ned Stark in the first season of Game of Thrones. Television is a particularly good medium to explore this theme as we will be watching this character’s personal growth over a span of years (except for poor Ned).
Dynamic Ally: Every protagonist needs a best friend or helper who is going to stick around for the long haul. A character who represents the major ally/champion/partner-in-crime of the protagonist and helps to facilitate change in the protagonist.
Shadow: This is a supporting character who represents the polar opposite of our protagonist, always lurking and always creating conflict.
Let’s look at some fascinating TV personalities, captured in a list of elements that are vital to creating a three-dimensional dramatic character.
Rustin Cohle (True Detective)
Defining Characteristic: Pessimistic
Skill: Obsessive
Misbehavior: Abrasive/Iconoclastic
Achilles Heel/Flaw: His daughter’s death
External Goal: To solve the case
Internal Goal: To find peace with the universe
Dynamic Ally & Shadow: Detective Martin Hart
Pilot Arc: From space cadet to good detective
First Season Arc: From haunted to peaceful
Series Arc: None*
*The Cohle/Hart True Detective series only lasted one season.
Walter White (Breaking Bad)
Defining Characteristic: Controlling
Skill: Chemistry
Misbehavior: Entitlement
Achilles Heel: His family and his lust for power
External Goal: To become a drug lord
Internal Goal: To protect his family/ To get his due
Dynamic Ally*: Jesse Pinkman
Shadow*: Hank, his brother-in-law
Pilot Arc: From a wimpy chemistry teacher to a successful meth cooker
First Season Arc: Walt develops his signature blue meth and facilitates a distribution deal with a dangerous gangster
Series Arc: Cancer-ridden loser to sociopathic drug baron
*See the note in Act One of my Breaking Bad pilot map in Case Studies, in regards to how Hank and Jesse’s functions flip as the series goes on.
Senator Francis “Frank” Underwood (House of Cards)
Defining Characteristic: Manipulative
Skill: Cunning
Misbehavior: Unethical (often expressed in comedic asides)
Achilles Heel/Flaw: Hubris
External Goal: To win high office
Internal Goal: To please his wife
Dynamic Ally: Peter Russo
Shadow: Zoe Barnes, cub reporter
&
nbsp; Pilot Arc: Low-level politician to rising star
First Season Arc: Frank becomes Vice President
Series Arc: We shall see!
In the Mad Men pilot, Peggy Olson is the “New Arrival,” but as the series progresses, she will become a secondary protagonist to Don Draper’s primary protagonist. Here are her Basic elements for the series.
Peggy Olson (Mad Men)
Defining Characteristic: Workaholic
Skill: Writing advertising campaigns
Misbehavior: Chooses job over relationships
Achilles Heel/Flaw: Needs Don’s validation
External Goal: To make it in a man’s world
Internal Goal: To find love
Dynamic Ally: Don
Shadow: Joan
Pilot Arc: From mousy innocent to sexual woman
First Season Arc: From secretary to copywriter
Series Arc: From newbie to experienced professional
THEME
What is your show about? Why are you telling this story? What emotions and ideas do you plan to explore? What should your characters do? These questions point to theme.
You can and should use your theme/s to inspire stories, scenes and character arcs. Theme can act as a “control” to focus your stories.
Mad Men’s central theme is the pursuit of happiness in an increasingly cynical and chaotic world, with key sub-themes explored along the way (sexism, racism, status, family, etc.). The show is a great example of exploring the same key themes over several seasons. From the beginning, the decision to set the story in New York City in the 1960s, a place and time of great societal change, practically guaranteed the exploration of certain themes, such as issues of race, gender, age and class. And specifying it to the advertising industry necessitated an examination of pop culture, artifice, creativity versus commerce, and identity.
One can see how the original cast of characters sprung from these themes. Imagine series creator Matthew Weiner sitting down to first outline the series, knowing only the central theme, the time period and the setting. The goal, as always, is conflict and contrast. It quickly crystallizes that the women on the show (Peggy, Joan, Betty) will be dealing with chauvinism in the workplace, sexual freedom and the balance of family and career as the ideal 1950s housewife image breaks down. The men at the ad agency should be divided into two basic camps: the old guard (Burt, Roger, Don) and the young Turks (Pete, Ken, Harry). The old guys bring the experiences of The Great Depression, war and conservative values, and the young men struggle to find themselves in the void stuck between their father’s black-and-white world and the shifting morals and influences of their evolving generation. Then you’ve got the stratification between class and money, and the impact of the creative spirit on daily life. Pete Campbell comes from money, whereas Don Draper comes from a dirt-poor existence. Pete has reached his position in the company almost solely on his family name, while Don created his persona from whole cloth.
In Breaking Bad, the theme of sacrifice comes into play time and time again as Walter White keeps being put in impossible situations where he must decide what and who he is willing to sacrifice to save his own skin. As Walt falls deeper and deeper into the criminal underworld, the question of survival comes up in almost every episode. And he can’t just leave the criminal life, because he has inoperable cancer, so it’s literally a struggle for life and death.
The short opening sequence for the pilot of The Walking Dead drives home the central theme of the entire series – when Rick makes the terrible decision to shoot the little girl zombie in the head, he is struggling with how to maintain his humanity in the wake of disaster. Each episode of the series will force the characters to deal with this theme.
In the Scandal pilot, the theme shifts and sharpens over time. It begins focused on truth, best exemplified by Olivia’s use of her gut instinct. She believes her instinct alone can determine if someone is lying or not. It never fails her. But soon we meet the one man who can cloud that instinct: her former lover, President Fitzgerald Grant. Olivia begins to see her client’s dilemma mirroring her own—Sully can beat the murder charges if he only admits to his true love for another man. But in doing so, he will destroy his career and carefully-crafted persona. Same goes for Olivia and her secret relationship with Grant. It is at this point in the pilot script that the theme begins to focus into the sacrifices we make for true love. The integration of plot, theme and the protagonist’s character arc is seamless.
True Detective’s pilot is split between two time periods: 1995 and 2012. We begin in 2012 as Detective Martin Hart is interviewed about his partner, Rustin Cohle. Hart is examining what makes the man, starting by expounding on what makes a good cop. The relationship between these two men and the examination of their true nature, not the Dora Lange murder case, is the “A” story of the pilot and the season. The central theme is right there in the title: What makes a “true” detective?
COMPELLING CRISIS
“What’s the concept?” is a question you hear often in the world of features, but in television, it’s not so simple. The “concept” is not just one story. It’s a set of characters, a launching pad, and an ongoing engine that generates many stories. A TV series must have a central conflict that is inherently fascinating, rife with high stakes and requires significant time to solve. Let’s call this a “Compelling Crisis.”
The Compelling Crisis is not always the central conflict of each episode. For example, on Lost, the Compelling Crisis is a group of people trying to escape a mysterious island filled with dangerous, supernatural occurrences. But an individual episode of the series would be driven by a smaller, unique “story engine” that is a variation on the Compelling Crisis, like “They must rescue three of their friends from the secret hatch before one of their enemy captives escapes and signals an attack on their camp.”
No matter how clever or outlandish your scenario, it will not be compelling to an audience without characters we can invest in and root for. Notice how all of these crises flow from character:
Breaking Bad: A mild-mannered high school teacher becomes a drug lord under the nose of his brother-in-law, a DEA agent.
Downton Abbey: A wealthy British lord struggles to keep his estate and antiquated ways as the unrelenting pressure of the 20th century threatens to tear it, and his family, apart.
Mad Men: An ad man with a dark secret desperately struggles for happiness in the turbulent 1960s.
Sons of Anarchy: “Hamlet in a biker gang.” Stepfather and son fight to keep a gun-running biker gang together amidst corruption, betrayals and escalating violence.
The Americans: Two Russian sleeper agents in the 1980s pose as the perfect suburban couple by day as they run missions by night, which ironically bring them closer as real lovers.
SETTING/WORLD
An English manor at the dawn of World War I...Manhattan in the 1960s...a motorcycle club. These are the “worlds” these stories live in.
A great show takes us into a world that we’ve never visited, or, at least, haven’t seen portrayed quite like this. The world will invariably be a strong part of the Compelling Crisis. Here are some of the more fascinating worlds of recent television history:
Boardwalk Empire: Prohibition-era New Jersey shore
Game of Thrones: The fantasy world of Westeros
Homeland: The inner workings of the CIA
House of Cards: Backrooms of Washington, D.C.
Justified: Backwater Kentucky
The Walking Dead: Post-zombie apocalypse America
REGENERATING STORY ENGINE
(a.k.a.“100 EPISODES OR BUST!”)
100 episodes is the magic number in which a show goes into syndication (cha-ching!), thus it is the goal of every series.
Think about how your series can sustain 100 hours of narrative. You don’t need an outline of all 100 episodes, but it’s good to have an answer when you’re asked a question like, “What happens at the end of season two?” It’s helpful to know w
here the first few seasons will begin and end, for your own use and to convince other professionals that you really know your series.
It’s time to put that Compelling Crisis into action. To narrow in on the core of your story—what it is. What drives each episode. What makes it drama and what we tune in to see each week. In simple terms, you must identify...
THE “WEEK-TO-WEEK”
Let’s get in our time machine and eavesdrop on some conversations at networks around town...
Okay, I get it that this series is about a chemistry teacher who starts to make meth, but what does he DO each week?
So this guy is a creative director at an ad agency in the Sixties – what happens each episode? We watch him sit around and create ad campaigns in bell-bottoms?
So, her husband the politician cheated on her and she’s back to work as a lawyer. Does she work on a new case each week or is it the same case for the whole season? Does she go to trial or stay in the office? When she was still a wife, would you have called her a good one or a bad one?
That last question may be a stretch, but you can see what these hypothetical network types are asking: what happens each week? After all, 10 different writers could be handed the concept of an ensemble drama within the wealthy British upper class at the dawn of World War I and come back with 10 different takes. It took Julian Fellowes’ unique approach to make this idea into the brilliant character study that is Downton Abbey.
The Week-to-Week also addresses a pivotal part of any show: the audience. What will they see and how will they feel? Here is my estimation of the Week-to-Week for three of our sample shows:
STORY MAPS_TV Drama Page 2
