How To Write For Television

As a working television writer by trade, I must say I was a little skeptical picking up Madeline DiMaggio’s book How To Write For Television (Fireside/Simon & Schuster) which hits bookstores today at around $16. A war veteran of ‘how to it’ books and courses on writing, from Ted Field’s book on screenwriting to the popular and expensive Robert McKee’s Story Seminar, I picked up this book with more than a degree of trepidation, but was pleasantly surprised.

With dozens of mainstay examples, from 30 Rock, Lost, CSI, and The Office, DiMaggio’s fluid prose provides the reader with a solid chapter-by-chapter instruction on how to write episodic television with a true insider’s perspective.  Starting with the basics of scriptwriting skills, including subjects covering dialogue and narrative, DiMaggio makes the wise choice to illustrate by example.  Full scenes from some of television’s best and current shows fill each chapter as DiMaggio covers all forms, including dramas, half-hour comedy, pilot, treatment, and long-form TV movie.

Perhaps the most entertaining and interesting parts of the book come toward the end, with a chapter dedicated to “Adaptations, Collaborations, and My Biggest Mistakes,” providing the reader with real-life anecdotes, as well as advice from other writers.  There’s even a chapter interview with agent Mitch Stein, who gives the readers his own opinion of what it takes to succeed in the television business.  (Part of his advice: it’s all about who you know.)

As the landscape for opportunities for television writers continues to shrink, I can’t help but empathize and applaud any novice looking to start in a career that is founded in constant rejection.  That said, like winning the lottery, you only need one ticket — and with passion, originality, and a strong degree of guidance, this book proves anything is possible.

Though reading it, I can’t help but think of the famous scene in the Coen Brothers’ comedy about a novice writer who comes to Hollywood to work in the studio system in 1941, called Barton Fink.  Frustrated by the development process as the studio continues to butcher his material, writer Barton turns to studio-head Jack Lipnick for guidance.

Jack says, “Look, you confused? You need guidance? Talk to another writer.”

Barton responds, “Who?”

Jack replies, “Jesus, throw a rock in here, you’ll hit one. And do me a favor, Fink: throw it hard.”