I was talking with a fellow TV writer the other day about her experience in her writers’ room. She was navigating some challenges and was looking for advice. We had a juicy and lively conversation, and I realized, having negotiated 7 different writers’ rooms, that there are some ways of being that I’ve absorbed and forgotten about. They were very helpful to her, so I figured I’d take the time here to lay them out for you.

Pitching is like Charades but not as urgent: To me, there’s nothing more annoying than playing Charades with someone who doesn’t guess. If I’m in front of a group, acting my heart out, trying to get people to understand some clue or say some word, all bets are off if the person is just staring at me. I imagine he or she is trying to “get it right” – understand the exact meaning of what I’m up to before speaking a word, but, frankly, that’s not a great way to play the game. The point of Charades is to GUESS. Even if you’re wrong. You have to throw out answers to move through the bad ones in order to find the good ones. Pitching in a writers’ room is a lot like that. I have been the guy who is afraid of making a mistake, but the more I withdraw and get into my head trying to find the “right” pitch, the less I’m participating. The TV writer’s job is to participate. That’s what will help the showrunner discover the next thing that should happen. Without people playing along, the process grinds to a halt. The writers’ room lesson: Learn to balance your fear with the bravery of speaking out and being wrong. You’ve been hired to play, and playing requires that you open your mouth often. I heard one writer (I don’t recall who) toss out this theory: showrunners find the best story choices only after writers have thrown out a mountain of bad choices. Without those crappy ideas, you won’t be able to “climb” up to the brilliant ideas. So have at it.

You can pitch any time – it’s NOT a competition: There’s always a moment, in every room I’ve been in, where there’s a flurry of ideas being generated. Some people manage to speak louder and faster and more forcefully than others. (Spoiler alert: often those are men – and sometimes senior writers.) I remember feeling, at the beginning of my TV writing life, that I had to win the race to be heard – to get my two cents in. In fact, the opposite is true. While, ultimately, the “best” idea wins (as determined by the showrunner) ideas can be pitched any time. I’ve learned to wait until the flurry has died down, and in the (inevitable) lull, I chime in: “Going back to X, I had a thought…” This may, in fact, be the best moment to offer an idea, after the other, speedy folks have run out of steam and the silence in the room is palpable. Even more remarkable, you can offer an idea the next day – long after the initial discussion. The idea can still land and be adopted as a viable alternative. You can even email the showrunner (depending on who she is) and present your thoughts outside the room. The writers’ room lesson: Pitching ideas is NOT a race. You don’t have to elbow in. You can breathe, listen and offer what you have at any time without needing to push to the front of the line.

Don’t try to be the smartest person in the room: You’re there for your unique mojo, but that doesn’t mean you need to have ALL the answers. I now find it gratifying when someone offers a suggestion in the writers’ room that I was going to make. It says my thinking and my instincts are on track with someone else’s. It affirms that I’m in the pocket of the viable ideas. I can always cheer that person on by saying so. “I was thinking the same thing!” And I can proclaim that with a joyful energy – free of any kind of resentment that I didn’t say it first. As long as the ideas get out there and move the story along, we should all be happy about that. The writers’ room lesson: Rather than imagining you have to be the most brilliant person on the team, lean into the idea that you’re ONE of the brilliant people on a team of superstars.Wear that collaborative mentality like a Varsity jacket. When one of you wins, you all win.

You’re not replaceable! In my early days of TV writing, I carried fear that I’d get fired if I wasn’t good enough to make a contribution. I would look around at other folks and imagine that they were bringing juicy thoughts to the table and that I had nothing to bring. That kind of thinking led me to imagine that I was competing with each other person to keep my spot on the staff. If I wasn’t as good as _________, I might be voted off the island. I no longer believe that’s true. Every person gets into a writers’ room because they’re a) a good writer and b) someone the showrunner believes is a good person to have around. Even if I’m at the same level as another writer on staff, TV writing is not a game of Survivor. (If that was the case, the goal would be to have ONE writer standing at the end of the season. But then that would be unbelievably hard on the showrunner who would have much more work to do.) The writers’ room lesson: The only person you’re competing with is YOU. Focus on becoming a sharper collaborator, a more user-friendly team member, and a better story generator than you were before. Your spot is your spot. Your contributions are unique. Learn to keep bringing them.

Focus on what you love: Even when creating the most bizarre stories (for example: supernatural stories and serial killer tales) there are, inevitably, elements that you enjoy. Lean into those. If you’re writing the episode, the moments you love are key to inspiring your writer’s draft. They’re also the key to your participation in the room. How? They’re likely the sections of the story you can most clearly see, or the ones that make you laugh, or that you relate to. The more you imagine those moments, the better you can speak to them, pitch on them, offer creative perspectives on them, or ask questions about them. The writers’ room lesson: You will naturally bring a unique flavor to the events in a story that mirror what you’ve seen, felt, or have gone through. Use those details as an engine for new ideas.

In many ways, being a TV writer is an amazing and wonderful job. And, it can also be a space of anxiety, depending on how you think about it. Like many things in life, cultivating a healthy perspective on the challenges and the tasks can make all the difference.

This week, as you show up in your creative work, whether you’re in a writers’ room or not, find new ways to look at the things you find challenging. Use these principles to discover the joy in the work and to value what you bring to a project whether it’s a collaboration or a solo effort.

And, as always, let me know how it goes.

Steve