Lee Goldberg

TV writingNotes from the frontline

 

 

The stories you are about to read are true, the names have been changed to protect the guilty.

 

 

We were writing the first episode of a detective series and turned the script in to the network executive for his notes. The first note was in scene one, act one.

“The hero doesn’t know what’s going on,” the executive said.

“That’s right,” I replied. “It’s a mystery.”

“You can’t do that,” the executive said. “The hero should be ahead of the story.”

“Ahead of the story?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

“The hero should know,” the executive said.

“Know what?” I replied.

“Everything,” the executive said.

“But he just arrived at the scene,” I said. “He’s taking his first look at the body…and you want him to already know everything?”

“Is he a hero or a complete moron?” the executive asked. “Nobody wants to watch a show about a guy who’s lost, confused, and stupid.”

“It’s a mystery and he’s a detective,” I said. “He’s going to show us how smart he is by solving the crime.”

“If he was smart,” the executive said, “he wouldn’t have to solve it. He’d already know.”

“So what’s the mystery?” I asked.

“There isn’t one,” the executive said.

“So what’s our show about if there’s no mystery to solve?”

“You tell me,” the executive said. “You’re the writer.”

 

* * *

 

hunter tvshowI was working on Murphy’s Law, a lighthearted detective series starring George Segal as an insurance investigator, when I got this call from the network censor with notes on our script:

“You’ve got one of your characters calling another character a moron,” the censor said.

“Yeah, so?”

“You can’t do that,” he said. “We’ve approved ‘dolt,’ ‘dummy’ or ‘dink,’ as acceptable alternatives.”

“What’s wrong with calling somebody a moron?”

“You’ll offend all the morons in the audience,” he said. I thought he was joking.

He wasn’t. So I said, “Don’t worry, all the morons in the audience are watching Hunter.”

Three months later, Murphy’s Law was cancelled…and I got a job on Hunter.

 

* * *

 

We were writing an episode of a series for a Major Television Producer who had dozens of hit shows to his credit. This particular series, however, was not destined to be one of them.

For this episode, he wanted to do a “modern take” on a “cowboys and Indians” story. He wanted to see “Indians on the warpath,” only with “a contemporary sensibility.”

“Call ’em Native Americans instead of Injuns,” the Major Television Producer instructed us, “that’ll make the story instantly relevant.”

He also wanted it hip, sexy, and edgy. And he wanted women, lots of beautiful women.

I joked that we could have seven supermodels lost in the desert. His eyes lit up. “Yes,” he said. “That’s perfect. That would give the show…sophistication.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t kidding around. We were stuck with seven supermodels.

We went off and worked on the outline for our script. We came up with a scene in which bad guys destroy sacred Navajo ruins, causing the Native Americans to attack the bad guy’s camp. But when the Major Television Producer read our scene, he was outraged.

“You can’t have the bad guys destroy Navajo ruins,” he bellowed. “Those ruins are priceless, historical artifacts. The American public will never stand for it. You’ll offend our entire audience!”

We apologized, explaining all we wanted to do in the scene was provoke the Native Americans into attacking the bad guys.

“Why not have the bad guys rape the seven supermodels,” the Major Television Producer said.

“Sure,” I replied. “That won’t offend anybody.”

“Exactly,” the Major Television Producer said. “Now you’re learning how to write television.”

 

Lee Goldberg is a two-time Edgar & Shamus Award nominee and the author of over 40 novels and nonfiction books. Goldberg is also known for his screenwriting and producing work on several different TV crime series, including Diagnosis: Murder, A Nero Wolfe Mystery, Hunter, Spenser: For Hire, Martial Law, She-Wolf of London, SeaQuest, 1-800-Missing, The Glades, and Monk.

 

This article first appeared in Mystery Scene Spring Issue #84.

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