It’s not about if, it’s about when

As far as I’m concerned, if you’re reasonably intelligent, show up on time, finish what you start, and get along with others, you can have a career in the entertainment business. The writers who make it are the ones who finish their scripts on time. The successful directors are those who follow their films through post. The actors who stick with their craft are the ones who eventually book the jobs. Of course, you have to do the work of perfecting your craft. You must study, practice, and learn the ropes of the industry you want to be a part of, but, as we often say, none of this is brain surgery.

I began my career in entertainment assisting a prominent talent manager, moved over into casting, and then made my way to development and production as a writer’s assistant. My first executive job came when I was pro-moted to Story Editor by Laura Ziskin who, at the time, had a deal with Sony Pictures. Laura had produced PRETTY WOMAN and would later go on to kickstart the Spider-Man franchise. While at Ziskin Productions, we started shooting WHAT ABOUT BOB? starring Bill Murray and Richard Dreyfuss. From there, I moseyed over to Garry Marshall’s company when he was shooting FRANKIE AND JOHNNY with Al Pacino and Michelle Pfeiffer. If you look closely, you can even see me sitting behind Michelle in the first scene on the bus. I’m the one with the curly hair, chatting with my best friend Blair, who was Garry’s Director of Development at the time and is single-handedly responsible for me getting both my job with Ziskin and with Marshall. Thanks to that epic role in the movie, I also score an impressive royalty check from SAG every few years for about a dollar and a half.

The two years I spent at Garry’s Henderson Productions were amazing. Garry was deceptively brilliant, dropping words of wisdom that I still follow today. Ultimately, though, the pace of features was a tad too slow for me, and I started looking for work back on the TV side. At the time, Fox was expanding from four to seven nights of programming a week and had a job open in Comedy Development. After landing the gig, I spent the next five years working on MARTIN, ROC, and NED AND STACY, and developing half-hours like LIVING SINGLE, CLUELESS, and THE WILD THORNBERRYS.

Being a comedy exec suited me. My time as a writer’s assistant had given me a solid foundation in what was funny and how to give notes on story and character. I also spent nearly every night out with my friends at the L.A. comedy clubs, so I knew who the up-and-coming talent was on the circuit. And when Tom Nunan, Executive Vice President of Development, eventually left to run development for UPN, I went over with him to take over the comedy department.

I spent the next four years developing GIRLFRIENDS, THE PARKERS, Ryan Reynolds’ first sitcom TWO GUYS, A GIRL, AND A PIZZA PLACE which aired on ABC, and MALCOLM IN THE MIDDLE which went to Fox. But as dramas started to rise in popularity and slots for comedies became fewer and farther between, it became clear to me that I needed to broaden my skill set. When UPN asked me to re-up for another stint, I declined, instead partnering up with producer Jonathan Axelrod, who already had a deal with Paramount. In addition to comedy, Jonathan and I branched out into drama and film, and over the six years we were together, were able to sell multiple projects and produce a one-hour drama series.

At the network, it’s one thing to listen and react to pitches that come in fully formed, but it’s an entirely different thing to get into the weeds on a concept with a writer from start to finish. By the time we finally shuttered our production company, I was confident in my ability to switch back and forth from buyer to seller.

The leap into the corporate ranks forced me to stretch my abilities in a different way and allowed me to step onto a much bigger playing field than I ever imagined. While daunting at first, I discovered the more I said yes to the small asks — moderating panel discussions, creating programs, writing reports — the easier it was to tackle the larger ones like overseeing the diversity council comprised of the heads of all of the major divisions. The job was what I liked to call HR adjacent —enough to see the hiring, retention, promotion, and termination process without having to report into HR directly. This vantage point was illuminating, giving me countless new insights into what gives one candidate the edge over another.

I was eager to get back to a more creative space, so after six years at NBCU, in 2013, when HBO came looking for someone to begin their diversity efforts, it felt like the perfect move. For seven years I created and oversaw HBO’s emerging artists programs, fostering the careers of the up-and-coming writers, directors, cinematographers, and crew who came through our doors.

Over the course of my career, I’ve learned a few valuable things, one of them being that working in this industry is a gift. Where else can you spend all day asking, “what if” and get paid for it? Yes, we all have to pay our dues. Most of us weren’t born into Hollywood families, so we have to work at generating opportunities for ourselves. But once we do, we find we just aren’t built to do anything else. We love creating and sharing those creations with others. We love the magic of storytelling.

However, and this is a big however, your path might not materialize in quite the way you envisioned it. At least, not at first. And that’s okay. Be open. You might not ever get on the staff of your favorite sitcom, but you might write a book for Audible. You might have a lucrative career directing movies on a streamer instead of big-budget theatrical features. You might be cast in a long-running drama instead of a comedy. So, keep an open mind and say yes to everything. Remember, until recently Netflix, Apple TV+, Disney+, Amazon Studios, and HBOMax weren’t even a thing. Netflix still delivered DVDs in the mail, and rebranding CBS All Access to Paramount+ wasn’t even remotely a concept. If you came to Hollywood only wanting to work at a broadcast network, you would’ve completely missed every other platform on the verge of taking off.

Before we get started with the nuts and bolts of how we do what we do, here is a little advice. Let go of the fear. You will waste a lot of valuable time worrying about whether or not you will make it in Hollywood. Unless you’re actively working against your own best interests, you will succeed. It’s not about if, it’s about when.

Most writers I know get excited about their work, then spend the rest of their time beating themselves up that it’s not good enough. I won’t lie. That part of the creative process will not go away. You will definitely have those moments of self-doubt that come with being a creative soul. You’ll wallow in imposter syndrome, mentally ripping apart the thing you were so excited about writing just a few minutes ago. You’ll think you have no talent. You’ll wonder how you ever thought you could write something worthy of being read by anyone other than your mother. After all, shouldn’t you be perfect at everything you try, right this very second?

The answer is no, no, and absolutely not. If your work was perfect the first time you put it on paper, there’d be no such thing as notes, revisions, and an amazing little thing called discovery. You’d never seek to go deeper to find new levels of honesty, because when it’s a work of sheer genius the first time out, why not quit while you’re ahead? Insisting your work be perfect from jump puts an enormous amount of pressure on you too early in the game. You’ll wind up quitting before you’ve even started to pick up steam. Stephen King and JK Rowling received a massive amount of rejection letters before they broke through. But they never gave up. They kept working their craft. Unsurprisingly, King and Rowling are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to stories like these. Add Sylvester Stallone, Tyler Perry and many more to the list. If these writers had given up, none of us would have ever heard of Andy Dufresne, Harry Potter, Rocky, or Medea. That alone would be tragic.

The point is, getting better takes work, and a tiny bit of doubt that makes you strive to do the best you can do is healthy. Just don’t spend time wallowing in misery to the point where it becomes unproductive. Give yourself five minutes a day of “woe is me” whining and then move on. Anything else is a waste of time.

Here’s a good exercise to rid yourself of imposter syndrome: think back to when you first saw someone like you on screen and remember how amazing it felt. You were probably a kid at the time and, maybe for the first time, you found yourself excited and comforted that you weren’t so weird and alone after all. Now, think of that kid sitting in front of a screen right now, desperate to feel the same way you did — excited, comforted, validated. By bringing yourself to this process, you bring a perspective we don’t already have in television, because you are uniquely you. Only you can write the characters and stories we need to see next. You need to be in this game so that someone else can see themselves and know that it’s okay to be who they are.

Don’t spend your energy imagining what it will be like living in your parents’ basement when you’re sixty as you futilely try to break into Hollywood. That’s almost certainly not going to happen. Show up knowing that it will work out, because it will. You may have to take a regular job until you get on staff or sell that great idea, and that’s a good thing. You can’t write about life without being immersed in it first. Then bring that experience, and every other experience you’ve ever had, to your page. Instead of spending that valuable time worrying, spend it creating.

From the Introduction to
Kelly Edwards, The Executive Chair – A Writer’s Guide to TV Series Development

Kelly Edwards is a TV writer and author.