New to Behind the Curtain? I’m a screenwriter and novelist documenting the real-time journey of pitching and developing two screen projects with my husband, Andrew Anastasios. This is Episode 5. And it’s the one where a producer’s email lands on a Monday night and the cattle trading officially begins. Episode 1 is here.
It’s Monday. Early evening.
Rain drips from the eaves outside. I’m working on the couch with my laptop propped on... well, my lap... as my cat arches her back and curls even closer to my leg. It’s either affection, or she’s seeking warmth from the chill. I choose to believe the former.
Ping! New email.
Stomach does a high-dive forward somersault in pike position. Because I see the sender’s name.
I sent through our re-written pitch a couple of weeks ago. Looks like he’s read it and is sending his thoughts.
It’s late in the day. I was about to start cooking dinner. I could leave it till later. Maybe not even go there at all today. It’s not like he’s expecting an immediate response.
For all he knows, given the hour, I could have clocked off by now.
I should pour myself a wine. Have a peaceful evening. Forget all about it. Then face whatever news it contains tomorrow morning.
If it’s sitting there, lurking on my laptop, my mind won’t rest. I’ll be running through all the possible outcomes... He hates it... Has changed his mind... It’s not for him after all... Thanks, but no, thanks... It’s not you, it’s me... Or, more likely, it’s not me, it’s you.
It’s Schrödinger’s cat. As long the box stays closed, it remains alive and well. It’s only when I open it that I’ll know, one way or another. The act of bearing witness forces fate’s hand.
Nah. I know myself too well.
Rip off the bandaid. Only thing worse than bad news, is not knowing and imagining the worst.
And so, the cattle trading involved in getting a TV series off the ground begins.
Because the news is... well, you tell me.
In summary: “Love it! It’s great!” is the general vibe of the email... “but...” (there’s always a “but”) ... “we’ve been talking in-house, and we’re going to be meeting with Big International Broadcaster in a couple of weeks. We want to take this to them. But we think it would be great to shave off this part of the story and lean into this other angle.”
What’s happened is that the producer and his head of drama have spoken with other key people in the company, and they’ve put their two-bobs’ worth in. And what was an unreservedly positive response after our initial meeting is now coloured by the harsh reality of facing up to the company we’re hoping to sell our story to.
The producer has decided that this Big International Broadcaster is our best bet. He’s also decided that we need to rethink what’s going on to help our series put its best foot forward.
Is what he’s suggesting a terrible idea?
Not necessarily.
But Andrew and I have a thing when somebody wants to change something.
“Is it better?” we say.
If the answer is “no, it’s just different,” then we leave it be.
Think of it like this: what if Nemo had been a baby shark, rather than a clownfish? Sure, it could still be an animated feature set on the Barrier Reef. But everything else would change. Would it be a lesser film? Not necessarily. But it would certainly be different.
That’s not quite what’s going on here, though. Because what’s being suggested will fundamentally change the story. It’s completely changing the motivation of the main characters. It requires them to come from a particular place and have specific attitudes that don’t work with how we imagine them to be.
Our idea of where they’re coming from gives them plenty of space to move as characters. You’ll meet them in one space, responding to a particular set of pressures. As the series develops, their world expands, and the stakes rise. What was a bit of a lark becomes deadly serious.
They start with a knee-jerk response to circumstances and develop ideology along the way.
The proposal being put to us would have our characters dropped off much further along that path.
When you first meet them, our people would already be who they evolve to become by the end of the series under our plan.
It would be as if the first time you met Luke Skywalker in Star Wars he was already a Jedi. You don’t get to see him develop as a character. He’s an egg that’s already hard-boiled.
Andrew and I are more interested in getting our hands on the raw egg and seeing what we can do with it. Scrambled. Omeletted. Poached. Who knows where we might take it? As far as we’re concerned, that’s what makes for an interesting story. If you force your characters into a corner from the very start, where the fuck are they going to go? It makes me claustrophobic just thinking about it.
So, what concerns me is that it feels like the producer wants to turn our show into something it’s not. Or, at least, not what Andrew and I want it to become.
Andrew’s interstate working on another series this week, so he’s not here to bat this around with.
But the more I think about it, the less I like it.
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