What Kind Of TV Pitching Devil Are You?

You spent your early career collecting awards for your programmes. You are full of ideas that spring forth fully-formed from your enormous brain. You’ve been called a(n evil) genius. You know everyone in television; you went to school with most of them. Some have gone on to greater things than you, but they were just lucky; it was nothing to do with talent. You have a massive mortgage and need to pay the school fees, which means you’ve sometimes had to take jobs that have demeaned you. But in public at least, you are fiercely proud of your work. And just because you haven’t won an award in years doesn’t mean you won’t. You just need to make sure the kids get through school first. You made you name making programmes about property development, but your last show tanked (insider speak for ‘nobody watched it’) and the bottom has fallen out of the market (insider speak for ‘you can’t get anything commissioned’). You’ve suddenly realised that you only know how to make one type of programme and are worried you’ll soon be found out. The commissioner, the one who had some great ideas in your meetings that you could ‘run with’ (and they may even have slept with you once at a conference), has moved on. The new commissioner (who used to be your personal assistant) isn’t returning your calls. What you need is some new ideas, and fast.

You have made a few programmes and spent some time in development, getting by with moderate success and a lot of luck. Now you’ve crossed over to the dark side you have the power to create careers and crush dreams. But mostly, you live in fear that you will commission something that turns out to be an embarrassment and get you fired. Or worse, that you will turn down something that goes on to be a global success. You are under siege but you haven’t seen an original idea in months. It can’t be that hard to come up with a noisy new tent pole (insider speak for big hit around which a channel can build a whole week’s or even season’s schedule).   When you do get a half decent show, the channel scheduler gets cold feet when the first episode doesn’t win the overnight ratings war. He moves it around the schedule trying to find a larger audience, but the viewers can’t find it and they all go off watch The Wire instead. When your show gets yanked it from the schedule, irate fans send 18,000 kilograms of nuts to your office in protest (those disgruntled Jericho fans really set a precedent). And that ruins your day.   The channel keeps slashing your budget and all producers do is complain. What do they expect you to do? Fund them out of your own pocket?   Any idea that you think is innovative sends the advertisers into a spin. They keep sending you free samples the hope that they will subliminally influence you to use product placement in their programmes.   Other channels beat you to air with programmes you’re sure they’ve stolen from you. There must be a spy in your midst: no one is beyond suspicion.   The average age of the audience is 50 and they keep getting older; but advertisers insist on programmes that appeal to young audiences.  At least young means under 49 (if you stretch the demographics), which is some consolation for you, at least for a couple more years. The younger audience is probably too busy creating their own content for You Tube to watch television.   You’re fed up of executive producers who think just because you once slept with them you’ll want to buy their half-baked ideas (it wasn’t that good: you don’t owe them anything). And conference bars are a nightmare, with sweaty producers lurching towards you with their pathetic pitches. All you want is a stiff drink and to go to bed. Alone.   And now the drama writers want more money and are going out on strike. You need more programme ideas and fast. But where from, at this short notice?