Writing the Pilot: Creating the Series

by William Rabkin

Concept. Conflict. Theme.

But theme is essential in serialized drama (or comedy, for that matter). Because the theme is the organizing principle behind the series; it’s what determines what should go into a show and what needs to be left out.

There is no such thing as a one-word theme for a television series. A television series cannot be about a vague concept like “love.” It’s got to be about a specific argument. It’s: How much evil can a good man do in the pursuit of doing good before he actually becomes the evil he’s fighting?

Everything she did forced her to confront the conflict that raged inside of her, and every story explored that conflict.

A reporter is an observer, and a series demands a protagonist who is a participant. You need your lead to be in the middle of conflicts, not on the sidelines watching.

Every episode feels like it’s moving a story forward, but it’s really just repeating a pattern that was set in the pilot.

So the pattern set in the pilot is this: Walt has a problem. His solution works, but puts him in direct conflict with people more evil than him. Walt comes up with a solution to that, but it requires him to become more evil than his enemies.

I like to visualize these kinds of character elements as story landmines – if you’re writing your pilot well, you are scattering them throughout that script, knowing that they will be there to detonate over the course of the seasons.

What you’re trying to do with these landmines is to establish ideas right up front that you won’t have to explore until sometime down the line – but whose appropriateness will be recognized by anyone watching from the beginning.

Dion is a drug addict and a chef, but these two sides of him never seem to conflict. There’s no sense that whatever drives him towards addiction interferes with his creative side – or, as with Vinyl’s Richie Finestra, fuels it. He’s a chef and an addict, and if you drew a Venn diagram of his various attributes, you’d find two bubbles barely touching.

Characters need to have some dichotomy in order to generate that inner conflict

And for this moment in television history, there are three words that define a lot of what makes TV writing considered “great.” Three words: Bigger, faster, weirder.

have an ending as happy as David Chase’s. No one has bought that script yet

Ask Bill if I could read it

That’s why I say you can have a gigantic concept without losing any of the human elements you are trying to capture. It’s just a matter of changing how you think – it’s no longer enough to say, “This is what interests me as a writer.” You have to take the next step to “how can I make this interesting to a jaded audience.”

And it’s all explained in one little mathematical phrase: L+3.

Who’s watched the show live or in the following 3 days of release

“We don’t believe in leaving good ideas on the table. If it will work next season, it will work better now.”