Every now and then I sit down and work through a kind of personal State of the Union, to figure out where I am and where I'm going. This can take various forms, but I don't usually do it in public, so this is a first...
Looking at my work schedule today, I have two projects on deck; a TV pilot that I'm midway through re-writing, and a movie script that I finished writing a couple of weeks back and that now needs some tweaks. Both of these are spec scripts (meaning I didn't get paid to write them but I hope to set the TV show up and sell the movie script). There is no paid work on today's schedule. Indeed, there is no paid work on the schedule at all. This has not been the case for maybe ten years. I don't have a job.
It would be dishonest to pretend I'm fine about this. I'm freelance, and when the work runs out most of us harbour a sneaking suspicion that that was it; there will be no more. The run is over.
I look back over the past twelve months and think of all the times when, buried in deadlines, I longed for a time when I could clear the decks and just have some time to create my own stuff. Now that time is here and it's causing me anxiety, because it's all a little too uncertain for my liking. This doesn't feel like freedom, it feels like the end of something.
The new series of Aldrich Kemp has been delivered to the BBC for a late-November release. There is little likelihood of a fourth season, and no suggestion that the BBC has an appetite for another series of the Lovecraft Investigations. I've been thoroughly enjoying making audio fiction for the past decade-plus, and now it seems that run is over too.
The movie and TV industries are in a slump; pretty much no one is buying anything or making anything. "Survive 'til '25" is the mantra of corporate Hollywood. On a more human level, most of the execs I know are just hoping to hold onto their jobs past the end of the year. It's grim and there's not a lot of optimism out there. Even the agents and managers, who can usually be relied upon for a bullish attitude, are quietly shaking their heads and looking worried.
It feels like everything is behind me. I'm peering into the future, but it's too dark to make anything out. I don't know what's there. I don't even know if anything IS there.
And yet, floating into my mind, comes the caption that Oliver Stone put up at the beginning of JFK:
"What is past is prologue."
The movie and TV industries were experiencing boom times in the years running up to Covid; the streamers were spending far too much money developing and making (mostly bad) films and shows, and everyone was making money. Then came the pandemic and the writers strike, and the wars in Ukraine and Gaza, and the bubble seemed to burst in slow motion. The writers strike, especially, taught the streamers that they could pretty much maintain their business models without paying so many writers for so many new shows. The strike was both the right thing to do and a huge own-goal - capitulating to unfair terms just to keep the wheels turning is a short-term win for a long-term loss. But instead we have a short-term loss for a long-term gain. We are, right now, in the shit.
But 'twas ever thus. Reading Sam Wasson's excellent "The Big Goodbye", about the making of Chinatown, we read of film-makers complaining about corporate control in Hollywood, how these businessmen have no knowledge of, or care for, the creative process, how they're paying movie stars too much money to attach to bad scripts that turn into bad movies, how the studios are going bust and no one is working. And that's in 1967.
The entertainment industry ebbs and flows, like anything else. And we all have short memories. We've never had it so good, it's never been this bad. But it has, and it will be again. Does anyone have any plans to stop watching TV shows and films? I didn't think so. The demand is there, supply has to follow.
For me personally, it feels like a chapter is over. But "what is past is prologue". Since 2016 I have been working almost exclusively with the studios and streamers in Hollywood. But most of that work has been development, which is to say they've paid me to write but no one has made anything. The real "win" is getting something into production. By that definition, there have been no wins. But I have scouted the landscape, I have met hundreds of people, and I have measurably and objectively got better at my job. We can bank that.
Likewise, in the audio space, the Pleasant Green and Aldrich Kemp universes have been built out and built upon and have garnered a loyal fan base.I feel like we've got better and better at making these shows, we've been learning more and more each time out. Listening to other shows in the audio fiction space, I'm confident that the team who makes our stuff is undeniably the best in the world right now. We can bank that too.
After the pandemic, we thought there would be an influx of scripts; writers sitting at home creating their passion projects because there was no work out there. It didn't happen. After the writers' strike, same thing - writers weren't allowed to take paid work, but they weren't scabbing if they created their own stuff. But mostly they didn't. I guess writers are sensitive souls, easily given to despair. I get that, I can feel it nibbling at the edges of my mind as I type this. But it's no good. Anecdotally, I hear from reps of writers who call every week asking if there's any paid work around, but won't consider writing something on spec because they have bills to pay. But they aren't paying those bills, they're sitting at home worrying and not creating anything. They're awaiting the harvest, but they didn't plant anything.
At times like these, when everyone else has gone into hibernation, it pays to start foraging.
So then what of the next few months? Activity combats anxiety. Those four movie ideas I've been excited about? Pick one and write it, then another, and another. The TV show I was thinking of pitching? Sit down and write the pilot (we're told no one buys TV specs any more, this, like all the "rules" of Hollywood, is nonsense).
Keep talking to people. The execs are at their desks with their heads in their hands. Maybe they can't buy right now, but they can still talk. Be the light, be the energy, be the person who isn't opining the state of the industry but instead seems to have a ton of ideas and enthusiasm. That person is their first call when the money tap gets turned back on.
Find like minds. Not everyone is asleep. There are other people; fellow creatives, even financiers, who are also looking to create opportunities during the downturn. Find them, help them, let them help.
And my big fall/winter project: building out the Pleasant Green Universe. We've told a handful of stories there so far, but there are many more. Characters who have been barely glimpsed but who might have rich narratives; new cults; strange organisations; mystical places. The bigger this thing gets, the more stories it produces across all media. And past a certain point, I can start to let other creators in and build something that can expand beyond the limits of my own imagination. I'm going to ramp up the online presence, work up TV and film ideas, and figure out how to do another Lovecraft Investigations season, with or without the BBC. If all I had on offer for the rest of my working life was Pleasant Green stories, I would be perfectly happy. Delighted, in fact.
And then there's this Substack, which has been neglected over the summer, but which also has the potential to be an amazing creative outlet. I love the community on here and I would like to do more to earn my place in it. I don't care if it pays or not (he lied), but having what I write go directly to the reader, rather than to a development team, is a boon in itself. You should feel free to vehemently disagree with that last statement.
So maybe a chapter is over. And maybe it should be. That one did what it was meant to do, and now it's time to move the story along. I get to turn the page, and I get to take everything I've learned and hone it and put it to use in the next chapter. Not knowing what's coming can be scary, but it also means that the possibilities are infinite.
If you're a screenwriter or a film-worker reading this, or if you're a freelancer in a completely different industry that finds itself in similar straits, I would urge you to keep going, to use the lull to get creative. If no one is buying anything, then you can create the weird passion project that you didn't think was commercial anyway - what have you got to lose? If you keep going, you'll gain the momentum to break out the other side of this. Be the beacon of light. Burn bright, be active, make plans, build muscles, create.
We're only truly defeated when we walk away.
I really enjoyed Temporal. I hope you'll get the opportunity to do more fiction on Audible. I may be a dinosaur for this idea, but I like the idea of being able to buy the media I like.
Who are the people at the BBC who commission audio dramas? I don't understand why they would not want to commission more of your inventive dramas. Weren't the Lovecraft investigations amongst the most listened to series? Maybe they were too popular!