Let me tell you a story. Years ago, when I was a young whippersnapper, I was directing television documentaries all over the world. I was spending months out of the country, traveling all over the place (and some of those places were not very safe), and after one particularly harrowing experience I came home thinking I needed to do something else with my life, or I wasn't going to have a life. And as I've yet to see a film (or TV show) worth dying for, I looked around for something less dangerous to do for a living.

In those days there was a popular TV show on the air called LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE. Most of you don't remember that show, or its star, Michael Landon, but at the time folks loved it, and I loved it. And one day I was watching it and I thought to myself, "Self, you can write a show like that, and no one will shoot at you while you do it." Little did I know. Ha! Okay, I'm just kidding, but I was a complete and utter dummy, so I set off to write an episode of LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE.

First off, you should know that TV shows have what are called bibles. A bible is a document that spells out everything about the show: who will fall in love with who, who will hate who, what's going to happen over the next ten years, etc. And of course you, the dummy, cannot possibly know any of this, so you cannot possibly write a spec teleplay for them...but since you're a dummy, or at least I was, you give it a try. And I wrote mine on a yellow legal pad because I didn't know how to type, and I wrote it in long hand with a pencil. And because I didn't know how TV scripts were formatted, I wrote it like a short story. In other words, I did everything I could possibly do to jinx myself.

After I finished my opus, it took me a long time to track down PRAIRIE'S production office, but I finally did (it was on the Twentieth Century Fox lot, where I would later spend a lot of time) and, to put a final nail in my coffin, I did not submit my "script" through a reputable agent. I simply stuffed it in a manila envelope and mailed it.

Months went by and I eventually gave up hearing anything. But then one day I received a letter on Fox stationary. It was from PRAIRIE'S Executive Producer, and he told me the show had been on summer hiatus, everyone had been gone except him, and he had been sitting in his quiet office one day, bored to tears, when, lo and behold, my envelope had come across the transom. He said they get scripts from dummies like me all the time (he actually said it a lot nicer, but I'm paraphrasing), and their secretary normally tosses them in the trash unread. But since everyone was gone and he was bored to tears, he decided to read it and have a few laughs. Well, he didn't laugh--except where I wanted him to--and in fact he loved it, and sent it to London where Michael Landon was vacationing with his family, and Michael Landon loved it, and they would like to buy my script and produce it. Talk about shocked. My feet didn't touch the ground for a month.

But I was lucky. It could have easily gone the other way. And usually it does go the other way. So if you're going to write for television, you're much better off learning the rules. Because it's only when you know the rules that you can successfully break them. And breaking the rules, successfully, is what will separate you from all the dummies like me.

So what are those rules? On boy, there are so many--too many for me to address in a short piece like this--but one thing you should know right off is that television writing is very formulaic. And one of the things they like you to do is to start off your story with a "happy family". In the happy family formula, you enter the story while the family is...well, happy. Everything's right in their world. But then comes the inciting action. This is where the family's happy world is turned upside down, and they're sent on a quest to turn their world right side up again. This, of course, they eventually do, and your story ends with them being a happy family again.

The problem with formulaic writing is that it's predictable, and when you're brought in to write a show, the head writer will inevitably tell you that if you can come up with a twist on the formula, they would love it. But if you do, know this--it damn sure better be; 1) a good twist, and 2) one that fits their formula. If you can do that successfully, you'll write lots of scripts for them. And if you can't, well, you'll be back overseas getting shot at.

Oh, and by the way, this is how submitting to television is really supposed to work. You don't submit a spec script like I did. You get an agent, and your agent sends out samples of your writing to all the shows you'd like to write for, and, hopefully, someone from a show (usually the head writer and/or executive producer) will bring you in and they will assign you a scenario to write because, after all, they know their show's bible, and you don't.

So, back to the rules. Like I said, there are a lot of them, and not all of them have to do with the television formula. Quite a few have to do with how you tell a good story, whether its a TV show, a film, or a novel. I previously mentioned one of them, "inciting action", and for those of you who do not know what that is, an inciting action is that moment in your story where the plot kicks off. This can be a murder, or a plane crash, or anything that will create a problem that has to be resolved. And if you're not a dummy like me, you will enter your story at the last possible moment, just when that inciting action takes place.

Now, finally, let's talk about the "ticking clock". Didn't think I'd ever get to it, did you? Well, I was trying to build the suspense. But here it is--other than inciting action, there are many, many tools you can use to tell a good story, and one of my all-time favs is called the "ticking clock". If you're unfamiliar with this term, it means you literally (or figuratively) assign a ticking clock to your story. In other words, the conflict must be resolved within a defined period of time. The classic example of this, and perhaps the first time it had ever been done well, was in a Gary Cooper movie called HIGH NOON.

Remember that film? It won an Academy Award, and in the story, Gary was the sheriff of a small town, and many years ago he arrested "the bad guy" and sent him to prison. As we enter the story, we see the town as a "happy family". Everyone likes the sheriff cause he was so brave for sending " the bad guy" to prison.

But then, bang, comes the inciting action. The sheriff (and all the rest of the happy family) learn "the bad guy" is getting out of prison, and he has put together a whole team of bad guys to help him kill Gary for sending him to prison. And here's where the ticking clock comes into play. The bad guy and his hoard of cohorts will be arriving on the twelve o'clock train.

So Gary goes around town, trying to get his happy family to help him fight the bad guys, but now the happy family isn't so happy anymore, and they would just like all of this disruption (meaning Gary and the bad guys) to go away. So they tell Gary, don't be a dummy, get the hell out of town. But Gary is, after all, Gary Cooper, and Gary Cooper would never run away. Gary Cooper is courageous and brave, so he decides to stay and face the bad guy and his cohorts.

And what the director did then that was so freaking brilliant is that as the story progressed he kept cutting to various clocks around town. And every time Gary looked at one of those clocks, he saw himself getting closer and closer to noon, and death.

And so, to make a long story short, Gary finally heard the train whistle, the train showed up, the bad guys got off, there was a horrendous, very long, running gun battle, during which the townsfolk had a change of heart and came to Gary's aid, and Gary not only won the battle, barely, he also won the girl. Wait, did I tell you about the girl? Oops, sorry about that. There's always a love interest in a good story, and sure enough, Gary won her heart, and the happy family was a happy family once more.

The twist? Gary decides that he can't stand his gutless happy family anymore and after all that, HE LEAVES TOWN. And you're saying to yourself, Wait, what? He left town? Why didn't he leave town before? Well, because he's Gary Cooper, and Gary Cooper is...blah, blah, blah...

But that's not the point. The point is the ticking clock works, and it works really, really well. Why? Because it emulates life. Life is all about a ticking clock. We're all counting down to something--the weekend, a date, a vacation, death. When you're young, the clock moves too slowly. You can't wait to be ten, thirteen, twenty-one--but then you turn thirty and the clock starts getting faster. And pretty soon you want it to slow down. But you can't slow it down, and suddenly you're ninety, living in a nursing home, and NOW that freaking clock slows down, and you sit in your tiny room day after day wishing you were ten again, or your happy family would call you, or would come see you, but they don't, and all you have to look forward to is that clock finally ticking to a stop.

Depressing? Well, that's life. None of us get out of town alive--unless your Gary Cooper--and he will forever be riding off to new adventures.

So what am I saying? I'm saying, don't be a dummy. Use the ticking clock in your writing. Build a whole story around it. Literally show the clock (or something like it) counting down the seconds to the final battle. Doing so will give your story structure and momentum, and you'll have your readers flipping pages as fast as they can.

Sound fun? Then go ahead, give it a try.

And until next time...I'm movin' on...