Chapter 1
Beginnings
“The pitching system is a bad system, though it works for a lot of people. . . . I see many talented artists working very hard pitching shows all the time. If they funneled that kind of energy toward making a film, they might have a little something more to show for it.”
—Patrick Smith, independent animator (excerpt from an interview published on AWN.com)
I didn’t plan to open this book with a quote like the one above, yet for this book to be of any use, we have to tackle all opinions, attitudes, myths, and unrealistic expectations that can cloud the reality of creating, pitching, and selling an animated series. Emerging after time spent staffing TV shows such Doug, Daria, and Downtown, Patrick Smith successfully transitioned to become the owner/operator of his own boutique-style animation studio in New York City. Out of his TriBeCa headquarters, Smith splits his time among making award-winning world-class festival films, teaching, and working away on his real bread and butter: commercials.
A good place to begin our subject is right back at Patrick Smith’s quote. (Take a moment to reread it—I’ll sit right here whistling The Girl from Ipanema until you return.) Smith gives us a great starting place because he’s really speaking about where a would-be creator might best spend her creative time and energy: making independent films and projects or pitching to TV networks, Web destinations, etc. While it’s an important question, it doesn’t sound like a question anyone could answer for someone else.
A still from Patrick Smith’s award-winning film, Puppet. Image courtesy of the artist.
In the independent films model, creators (working over a period of years or even a lifetime) have the opportunity to nurture their creative sensibilities via their art: independent films. Independent films are free of network tampering, the fickleness of fads, and the potentially lethal power of focus-group testing or bad ratings. Independent animator Breehn Burns summed it up well in a quote from my last book: “Pitches and pilots amounted to hours and months and years of my work sitting on some executive’s desk somewhere with a sticky note on top reading, ‘maybe.’ So instead of making pitches I make short films.”
Fair enough, but does time spent making independent films best prepare a creator for creating, developing, and selling an idea to any given network that caters to a specialized segment of the viewing audience? Seems to me the answer would have a lot to do with the type of independent films the creator is drawn to make. For pure artistic and nuts-and-bolts filmic knowledge, little can beat the creative laboratory of making your own personal films. To do so is an exercise in total freedom, limited only by your time, imagination, talent, and available resources. These films make great breeding grounds for your voice as a director and a storyteller. Independent films run the gamut, from experimental works à la Oscar Fischinger to the more entertainment-based shorts of Bill Plympton and Don Hertzfeldt.
In the latter category, it would be hard to imagine two filmmakers more at home right where they are; these two are masters of one-shot humorous films that draw their creative mojo from concepts or situations as opposed to those inspired by or from character. Interestingly enough, animation artists making independent films are more often better prepared for directing animated TV commercials than for helming their own series. Although it may seem like the words “independent” and “commercial” don’t go together, in this case, they happily do. Great indie films are often short and graphically pleasing. Is it any wonder that these films would attract the attention of Madison Avenue? One merely has to look at Ron Diamond’s stable of Acme Filmworks commercial directors to see that most of them are top indie filmmakers such as Patrick Smith, Bill Plympton, Wendy Tilby, Amanda Forbis, Joanna Quinn, Paul Driessen, Chris Hinton, Janet Perlman, Frank and Caroline Mouriss, and Michael Duduk Dewitt (among many, many others).
However, there have also been independent filmmakers such as Matt Stone and Trey Parker (South Park), and Mike Judge (Beavis & Butt-Head) whose indie creations are entertaining short films that derive their own quirky brand of comedy out of their idiosyncratic characters, creating a veritable series-sized bonanza of possibilities. We could ask ourselves why the creators of these top shows did not get pulled into the world of directing TV commercials. Why, instead, were they so suited for success in the world of series TV? The answer is, in part, a creator’s affinity and interest in characters. Development executive Peter Gal explains, “A character should be funny even if left alone in their room for two minutes.” I’d venture that the aforementioned two shows pass that test with flying colors.
A sample of Xeth Feinberg’s online comic strip The Uncomfortable Circle, which displays the same signature wit as his animation work. Image courtesy of the artist.
In terms of writing preparation for a would-be creator, any serial-style storytelling is good training. Comic strips, graphic novels, comics, and Web toons with recurring characters can give you the understanding of which ideas can sustain such episodic adventures and the strength that is necessary of characters in order for them to go that distance.
Successfully creating, selling, and producing your animated series requires a specific balance of skills, which will likely require years to develop. According to Mo Willems, you should make films both by yourself and with a crew under you. “Both forms of filmmaking are essential to the constraints of a big production. Essentially, you need enough experience to be able to do every job on your production and the wisdom to have hired people that are better than you at each of those jobs,” says Willems.
Creative Inspiration
It all starts with an idea. Many creators draw upon their childhoods for inspiration. Like with all good writing, you want to inject a kernel of truth that can only come from personal experience. David Fine, co-creator of Bob and Margaret (Snowden Fine Productions and Nelvana Limited) channeled personal experiences such as feelings about aging, thoughts on friendship, and issues he and his wife were dealing with, like whether or not to have children. Other times, a creative way to begin might be to imagine a concept that the intended audience can relate to. A writing partner and I created a pitch called Teddy and Annie, which focused on the two weird kids on the block. It was a good theme, familiar and relatable to most any child. We also mixed things up by using historical figures as a launching point to write the characters. Teddy was based on Teddy Roosevelt, a childhood hero of mine, and Annie was based on Annie Oakley, another larger-than-life figure out of our nation’s past. Once you have some jumping-off points, you can build from there to create and develop memorable characters. Remember that even Homer Simpson started out aping the antics and voice of actor Walter Matthau before coming into his own yellow skin.
Jim Jinkins’s series Pinky Dinky Doo was inspired by the creator’s family interactions. Copyright 2008, Cartoon Pizza and Sesame Workshop.
Other creators develop stories by performing non-linear thinking exercises (like pulling words out of a hat and writing a situation inspired by the word). This is one method favored by Stephen Hillenburg, creator of SpongeBob SquarePants (Nickelodeon). Hillenburg says, “Ultimately the ideas that stick are the ones that consistently make everyone laugh.” There’s no one set magic formula to creating winning characters. Sometimes, even a trip to the museum could prove inspiring in unforeseen ways. Hillenburg shares, “I was at this museum once that had a room full of cartoony Mike Kelley drawings that were all really bizarre. A group of elementary kids led by a museum docent entered the room and got really excited about the drawings. A few were examining this depiction of, I think, Abe Lincoln with brain waves and others were pointing at this one drawing of a goose biting a little boy on the penis. The docent was clearly uncomfortable and quickly ushered them out of the room (against their will) to the next exhibit. I’ve always wanted SpongeBob to be that compelling.” Of course, a great deal of the inspiration for Hillenburg’s series came from his interest in marine biology and surf culture.
Even the ordinary moments of daily life may serve to inspire a creator. Jim Jinkins, creator of Doug as well as the recent series Pinky Dinky Doo, reports that ideas for his series come from daydreams and doodles during boring business meetings, from bedtime stories he makes up for his two kids, and from simply watching people. Blue’s Clues co-creator Traci Paige Johnson channeled her love of Schoolhouse Rock and Sesame Street animations and other influences to help her dream up the art style for Blue’s Clues: “My love of Fruit Stripe Gum became Steve’s shirt and my love of the categorized colors in an art store became the color scheme of Blue’s house.” Jackson Publick, creator of Adult Swim’s The Venture Bros. on Cartoon Network, was initially inspired by a vague-but-powerful memory of Jonny Quest cartoons he saw as a kid and exposure to old Tom Swift novels through an older friend. Four seasons later, Publick’s series remains faithful to its original inspiration while, at the same time, having expanded its scope to develop its own voice.
Cracking the Code
“It’s all about character, stupid!” This is a good (albeit rude) slogan, but how does this break down when it comes to developing characters in an animated idea? A quick survey of the top animated series cartoons since 1991 reveals that most have at least one aspect in common: a simple twist upon our expectations. The Powerpuff Girls are three preschoolers who happen to have been burdened with the larger-than-life responsibility of saving the day before bedtime. Johnny Bravo is a self-declared ladies’ man who can’t get a date. Jenny XG79 (My Life as a Teenage Robot) is a teenager whose adolescence is complicated by the fact that she happens to be a robot. Courage the Cowardly Dog is actually a scaredy-cat who is forced time and time again into bravery against his own nature. Juniper Lee, Avatar, and Danny Phantom are preteens who happen to be “chosen” to fight some kind of evil, making their lives complicated and so much cooler (in a Buffy Summers sort of way).
Sensing a pattern yet? A twist on the norm as your premise is a good place to start developing character because the twist leads to natural opportunities for conflict, which, in turn, reveals character. How do the above characters deal with their problems? Do they have a sense of humor about them? Are they defensive? Are they insecure? How does this affect their interaction with others? With some thought, the character’s conflicts become the engine for hundreds of episodes worth of stories.
One thing is for certain: to draw inspiration from the characters listed above would be a very poor beginning. That would be akin to copying a copy of a copy. Remember, Bugs Bunny is already a copy of Groucho Marx. The best bet is to draw experience from real life, or if that fails, from living persons in history, TV, film, literature, and theater. The Ren & Stimpy Show creator John Kricfalusi likes to cite Carroll O’Connor’s performance as Archie Bunker in All in the Family as an ultimate example of “character.” I appreciate the example, but my gold standard for character is Peter Falk’s portrayal of TV’s Lt. Columbo. In this role, Falk has it all. On the surface, Columbo is scruffy, unfocused, unprepared, and forgetful. In this way, murderers don’t see him as much of a threat, and often even attempt to “help” him solve the case by trying to steer him to false conclusions. Often it is far too late before they realize that the bumbling lieutenant is actually a genius investigator with a sharp, curious, and agile mind.
Peter Falk brings a lot of human likability to the part, and we get ample opportunity to get to know the real Columbo through information he shares about his wife and also through other glimpses into his personal life, such as his relationship with his dog. On top of everything, Columbo is also a very distinct-looking character, with his cockeyed stare, rumpled raincoat, bedhead, five o’clock shadow, and ever-present cigar. We identify with Columbo not only because of his abilities as a detective, but also because he is a fish out of water, a slob investigating murders in high society. He’s the “every man,” and each victory he scores is a win for our side. It’s quite an ingenious combination of factors and is no doubt part of why Columbo is one of television’s most beloved characters, having survived for decades on a notoriously fickle tube.
Creative Obstacles
Another breed of would-be creators hatch their brilliant ideas for cartoon series when they are nine years old. They cling to their moldy ideas like life rafts, enabling them to shut off any other creative thought that might otherwise pop into their heads. After all, why bother to keep writing, creating, and developing, when you reached perfection in pre-adolescence? It’s a given that most successful creators have been creating since a very young age. The problem occurs when creators freeze-dry their talents in childhood, and spend their adulthoods scheming on how best to exploit the fruits of their youth. This is a mistake on many levels. First off, who among us is the same person he was at a young age? Our creations represent where we are emotionally and mentally during that particular point in our career. Creative development happens hand in hand with growing maturity and life experiences. Nobody is suggesting you have to jettison your past—in fact, a good balance, especially when creating for children, would be to retain a bridge to your childhood experience—but it should be a source of inspiration, not the summation of it.
Character show art created for the author’s pitch There’s Something About Gregory, co-created with Debbie Staab and developed by Allan Neuwirth. The character poses, drawn by artist Matt Peters, show a range of expression and attitudes, revealing this character’s personality based on art alone. Image courtesy of the author.
A series, by nature, requires lots and lots of additional ideas. If you manage to sell your freeze-dried idea, you will likely have a very hard time expanding upon it. Creative writing and development are not things you can turn on after decades of inactivity. One needs to keep one’s mind sharp. Continuing to develop new ideas over a period of time gives one room to stretch her creativity and to feed the beast should her creations happen to sell.
The next self-inflicted detriment to creativity is what I call “getting stuck.” Getting stuck is staying in one phase of writing and development for years or decades at a time. One example is a friend of mine who has been researching her idea for over six years now. She is constantly studying the historic period in which her project is set. She’s read dozens of books on the subject, taken pads of notes, and even traveled to historic locations. As much as I admire her dedication, I’m worried that she’s stuck in the research stage. Perhaps the answer, for her, would be to take on a collaborator who could absorb all the great research and funnel it into a pitchable format. Bringing in such help requires a creator to let go of some control. Happily, letting go of control is a good thing. It prepares one for the collaborative process that is making a series. Despite changing technology, there is no such thing as a series made by an individual. As in any field, the challenge of working well with others is often harder than doing the work itself. A little practice will help prepare you to helm a show one day.
There are lots of other ways to get stuck, too. On a development panel at the first-ever Platform...