So, the other day, I decided that I’m not moving to California to be a TV writer.
No, I haven’t been offered a TV writing job in California, however I’ve already decided that I will not accept the offer should it arise. Confused? I was, too, but the mind is a crazy thing! Let’s look at how I got here.
You all know I’ve been pretty introspective lately about social media, and I’m always thinking about what all of *waving around* THIS is for. I’m also really hard on a lot of pop culture websites these days because they’re GARBAGE. It’s not really a critique of the writers themselves, but rather a takedown of the state of the industry. Sites needs clicks for ad revenue, so that folks get paid, but the clicks are being generated by straight trash. Still, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” The problem, as I have always seen it, is money. People should be able to be paid for their work, but I’d hate to have my mortgage dependent on whether folks love – or hate enough to dunk on me – something I wrote about pop culture. If it was a base salary model, that’s great. But when you’ve got to do tricks and stunts to fight algorithms, it barely seems worth it. You’ve gotta have a “Hustle Mindset”, which ain’t for everybody, especially if their main focus is on the creative side and not the business side. Also, however, folks will eventually see through what you’re doing. Bleeding Cool occasionally breaks a comic industry news story, but it’s mainly press release regurgitation or weak takes generated to spark engagement from those who challenge their viewpoint. Screen Rant is churning out crap like “Here’s Why Frasier Season 5 Was The Defining Season of The Eddie Story.” Eddie was the damn dog. Someone did research to show the character arc of the dog. Well, probably. That’s just the sort of thing they’d write. Still, that’s what you’ve gotta do to get clicks and get paid.
This is why I’ve never tried to get paid for writing. In any way, shape, or form. And I’ve had offers. Not a lot, but some. I guess I read too many Motown biographies, but I was always too consumed by the concept of “ownership”. Additionally, comics taught me to avoid the work-for-hire arrangement. Anything I write is my “baby”. Some of my babies are ugly, but they’re still mine. You pay me $50 for something, your site one day blows up (well, it used to happen…), you get a book deal, and then you publish my piece that you now own. That doesn’t sit right with me. So, I’ll just be creative and poor.
This led me to think about how one does make money from all this. Most folks are content enough to hold court from their “@” on the social media app du jour, but some folks go a bit further. The Funny Folk™ have parlayed it into TV writing. It seems like they tweeted something funny, it was seen by “The Right People”, and then they were encouraged to submit something. As we learned from the recent strikes, that industry isn’t without its problems, where writers are concerned, but it can be a lucrative career if you do it right. To really be able to sleep at night, you’ve got to join a writers’ room on a series. This is how it’s done in the US, at least (I hear it’s less common in the way other countries go about writing their shows). For long-term success, you’ve got to be in a writers’ room for a hit show. So, it might be more fun and creatively challenging to be on 30 Rock, but you can comfortably send your kids to college if you’re on The Big Bang Theory. Unlike a lot of y’all, I love both shows, so that wouldn’t really be a problem for me. To be on a hit show, however, you’re going to have to be there. Sure, the pandemic taught us a lot of stuff can be done over Zoom, Teams, what have you, but a hit show is a hands-on experience. This means I’d have to move to California.
Once I left for college, I never really had much intention of coming back to Maryland. It’s funny, because I had originally been in no hurry to leave. That said, once out, I was in no hurry to return. I had the “dream” of most Cornell kids: I’d move to NYC and work for one of the big consulting companies until one of my rich friends raised enough capital to invite me to join his start-up. Ya know, the Y2K American Dream. All my rich friends, however, were engineers, and went into government contracting. So, instead of me being on the ground floor of Lyft, I folded sweaters at H&M. It’s fine. I’m not bitter. I’ve been back home over 20 years now, and I’m sort of locked in. All my stores are here. I know all the traffic shortcuts. And – most importantly – I have a basement.
Did you know that only around 20% of homes in California have basements? Apparently, it’s mainly due to climate issues, but also because they’d be a death trap once The Big One hits. Everyone has their interior design non-negotiables when it comes to home ownership, such as “must have hardwood floors” or “must be all on one level”. For me, it’s “must have basement”. I LOVE BASEMENTS! There’s something about descending into a subterranean lair, not knowing what you’re about to find. Is it unfinished, with a sump pump and a rusty bucket OR is there a pool table, a bar, and a big ass TV? Sure, I guess you could have these things on the ground level (well, hopefully not the sump pump and the bucket), but there’s something about The Descent. I can’t really explain it, and you’d never understand if you haven’t experienced it (But, really, who hasn’t experienced that?!). I’m at an age where “it’s the little things”, and that’s just too important to me. So, I’m sorry, Chuck Lorre, but I’m going to have to decline your offer to work on The Bigger Bang Theory. Sorting through totes of old toys in my basement is simply too important to me.
So, there ya have it. That’s how I made a life-changing decision about an offer that was never extended to me. Not even in the cards. But that’s how my brain works, and the Boy Scouts taught us we have to always be prepared!
