Six People and a Wall of Cards

Mona had imagined the room where a television series is written as a place where very bright people sat around a table and argued about characters. There was a table, and the people were bright, but what she had not expected was how much of the work was done with index cards. Every scene of the season was written on one and pinned to a wall, and most of the day was spent moving them from one place to another.

She was the youngest of the six people in the room and had been hired on the strength of a short film she had made with friends. On her third day, while the others were stuck on why the main character would return to the town where she grew up, Mona suggested an answer: her younger brother is in trouble, and she is the only one who can get him out. The room went quiet. Then the lead writer, a tired-looking man named Victor, said, "Maybe," and moved on.

Two hours later, an older writer called Dana proposed almost exactly the same idea, with a sister instead of a brother. This time Victor nodded, the cards were moved around, and by the evening the new story had become the backbone of the season. Mona went home furious and spent half the night writing an email she did not send.

The next morning, Dana found her by the coffee machine. "That was your idea yesterday," she said quietly. "I know. I am sorry. But you said it while Victor was still thinking about something else. It was the timing that was wrong, not the idea." She explained that in the room, an idea had to be offered at the moment when the problem hurt the most, and if possible connected to something someone else had already said, so that it felt like a solution rather than an interruption.

Mona was not sure whether this was wisdom or simply a useful excuse. Probably it was both. But at the end of the week, when Dana mentioned in front of everyone that the brother-sister idea had first been Mona’s, Victor looked at her for a long second and said, "Good. Then you write the first draft." It was, she would later say, the most useful lesson of her first year, and it had nothing to do with writing.

Mona thought that the room where a series is written would be a place where very bright people sat around a table and talked about characters. There was a table, and the people were bright. But she was surprised by how much of the work was done with index cards. Every scene of the season was on a card on the wall, and people spent most of the day moving the cards around.

Mona was the youngest of the six people in the room. She got the job because of a short film she had made with friends. On her third day, the others did not know why the main character would go back to the town where she grew up. Mona had an idea: her younger brother is in trouble, and only she can help him. Everybody was quiet. Then Victor, the lead writer, said "Maybe" and moved on.

Two hours later, an older writer called Dana had almost the same idea, with a sister, not a brother. This time Victor nodded. By the evening, the idea was the centre of the whole season. Mona went home very angry and wrote a long email, but she did not send it.

The next morning, Dana came to her at the coffee machine. "That was your idea yesterday," she said. "I am sorry. But Victor was still thinking about something else. The timing was wrong, not the idea." She explained that you have to bring an idea at the moment when the problem is biggest, and connect it to something another person has said.

Mona did not know if this was true or just a good excuse. Maybe it was both. At the end of the week, Dana told everybody that the brother-sister idea was Mona’s first. Victor looked at Mona and said: "Good. Then you write the first draft." Later Mona said that this was the most useful lesson of her first year, and it had nothing to do with writing.