How to get your ideas rejected (less) in television

A phrase I hear often: “Hey Mike, I got an idea for a TV show!” For me those select words trigger a facial expression resembling a polite person being spoken to by someone who speaks a foreign language: smiling, nodding and hoping to God I’m not asked a question.

Then, inevitably I get slammed with the dreaded, “So do you wanna work with me on it?” — often propositioned in a tone designed to make me feel I’d be a fool to pass it up. I shouldn’t be so smug. Frankly, I’m not smug when I’m pitched ideas. Some of the most successful reality/lifestyle series were conceived by non-TV people: Mark Burnett (producer of Survivor, The Apprentice) was once a chauffeur and nanny.

If you’ve ever had an idea for a TV show here’s a little insight that might make your idea a more viable proposition — reality/lifestyle TV concepts are conceived by professionals using a few methods:

• They take careful note of what their targeted broadcaster is already airing, change it slightly and bring in a celebrity/personality to host it.

• They first sign a celebrity/expert or personality, then build a show around them.

•  They stumble onto a completely innovative concept.

Broadcasters will pay more attention to anything that has a “name” attached. A series about Kim Kardashian cutting her toenails would have a decent shot at being picked up. God knows it would get great ratings.

Personally I prefer to approach development from a clean slate standpoint. Meaning, what interests YOU? What would YOU watch? Chances are if YOU would watch it, someone else would.

Ironically, there is an advantage that non-TV people have over those clichéd slick-suit-wearing producer types: producers will immediately dismiss ideas because of the suspected budgets, production logistics, travel requirements, talent costs, and music rights, etc. It can be creatively freeing to NOT be restricted by this knowledge.

This is probably why I’ve been rejected more times than an atheist on christian dating sites. It’s easier to fly the space shuttle or win a gold medal than it is to develop, sell and produce a show for broadcast (sorry Chris Hadfield and Olympic athletes – whose names I know none). With that said, once you have developed and sold your first series, retiring from the sport is a challenging proposition.

OK, back to your brilliant idea. So you’ve put pen to paper, you’ve scoured it objectively…. you’re pumped.  Picturing yourself top down in your dream Italian car, hair dancing in the wind, beside you a girl or guy that’s three points above you. Hold onto that confidence, you’re gonna need it.

Now you’ll do one of two things:

1. Blind pitch your idea through a network’s website.

2. Contact a producer who you’ll partner with.

“1” is tricky. Networks receive hundreds of blind pitches daily. It’s challenging for any network to give them all the attention they’d like, and might deserve. For better or worse, networks really only take pitches seriously that come from producers and production companies.

“2” is the better approach. If, by some stroke of God, your pitch is seriously considered (as in option 1), and liked, the network will want you to work with an experienced producer anyway. A producer will tell you whether you have something or not. Even if he or she believes in your vision, the road is still a long one. Networks don’t cut six-figure cheques to any enthusiastic Joe or Jane with a well written “one-sheeter”, and twinkle in his or her eye.

Bottom-line: Don’t quit your day job – but if you have a niggling little light bulb in your head that just won’t switch off, pursue it. DON’T be put off.

Alfred Hitchcock said, “Ideas come from everything”. Don’t underestimate yours just because your day job isn’t making TV. At the risk of sounding like Eckhart Tolle, rejection will only craft more poignant ideas. If you seriously think you may have struck small-screen gold, take your idea seriously. Take time to write it out. More than anything writing an idea down shows its weaknesses.

Good TV is art, and artistry is within us all, and oh my, how all that crusty cynicism melts away the first time you see your name scroll by in the credits.