No one disputes the fact that writing (of some sort) takes place on reality TV shows. Who's doing it and the nature of that writing is arguable, however. Generally, the only "written by" credits that appear on reality TV are for writers who have scripted the host's comments (if there is a host) or the announcer's voice-overs (if there are any).
Cheryl Rhoden, assistant executive director of the Writers Guild of America (WGA), offers a tempered response to the phenomenon. "To say that reality TV is unscripted is not true. Typically, the writing is similar to the writing employed by the documentary or game show. The amount of writing varies with the construction of the story arc. But just to create the story or situation involves writing."
New York City television writer Charles Rubin, who has written for "Seinfeld" and "In Living Color," among many other programs, is far less circumspect in his critique of reality TV. Indeed, he says, "They're all fake and absolutely scripted. TV producers are afraid of documentaries, but they're not afraid of televised fakery calling itself reality TV. I don't see the difference between the quiz show scandals of the '50s, where contestants were given the answers, and the reality TV show. Look, these shows may not be written beat by beat, but the producers have a good idea of where it's all going and the writers are helping to get it there. In addition, reality shows use rapid-fire editing, music, and guided improvisations. This is not reality. It's virtual reality.
"I've turned down job offers to write for reality TV," Rubin continues. "The idea for one of the shows was that we would follow a girl, who did not know she was being followed, for 24 hours, starting from the moment she woke up. There would be 50 hidden cameras in her bedroom. Now, how is it possible to hide 50 cameras in her bedroom?"
The legal, moral, and aesthetic issues aside, there are writers who do work for reality TV. Tracking down precise numbers is almost impossible because writers often have other titles, like producer or consultant or director—roles that may encompass writing without formal acknowledgement. In many other instances, writers are simply not credited at all. The fact is the bulk of these programs, according to the WGA, are produced outside the union's jurisdiction, making a count that much more difficult. What is known, however, is that the phenomenon is booming and thus—it's reasonable to assume—so is the number of writers involved, whatever they may call themselves.
The WGA reports that "during the 2002-03 television season, the six broadcast networks aired just over 4,100 hours of programming in prime time. Of that total, about 500 hours were devoted to 'reality' shows—about 12%. Compare that to the season just before our 2001 contract negotiations (1999-2001), when reality accounted for only 250 hours out of that 4,100, or 5%. For the current TV season we don't have final figures, but estimates put the number at upwards of 700 hours."
West Coast writer Ryan Flynn, who has never done any writing outside of reality TV—his credits include "For Love or Money" and currently "Outback Jack"—and, indeed, has no desire to, believes it is a fascinating, underrated genre with its own aesthetics and guidelines. "Reality TV is not like a documentary, because the participants are operating in a set-up situation," he says. "But that doesn't mean that the episodes are scripted. The writer's job—although I've been frequently called a 'story producer' or 'story editor'—entails going through thousands of hours of tapes and whittling them down to the most interesting. On the basis of the tapes, you can end up with 10 to 20 storylines. My job is to find the most telling stories. Rarely do we give anyone dialogue, unless we need a transition of some kind and want one of the players to say something like, 'Let's go to lunch now.' "
The old adage about not wanting to bite the hand that feeds you undoubtedly has application for television writers, who may not like the burgeoning reality TV phenomenon but who nonetheless may be writing for the genre. Some need the money. Others are hopeful that it might serve as a steppingstone to that elusive prime-time series or screenplay sale. Still others see it as an opportunity to hone their skills.
Two of the reality TV writers whom Back Stage talked with did not want to go on the record. One of them, a West Coast writer who has worked on a handful of reality shows—from the most obscure to the most high profile, he says—contends that being identified with reality TV is problematic on several fronts, not least from an artistic standpoint, although, he acknowledges, the experience has helped him learn his craft.
"Before I started working on reality TV, I made several short independent films, but I couldn't get anywhere with them," he says. "I felt that part of the problem was that I didn't have a good ear for dialogue. Working on reality TV has forced me to listen to dialogue, learn what to cut in order to move the story forward, and to push those elements in the characters that were the most interesting. Do I focus on the romance or the rivalry? I feel I have learned a lot that I will be able to use on my own projects."
Another West Coast writer, who also chooses to remain anonymous, echoes her colleague's views. She too asserts that writing for reality TV has been a training ground, helping to tighten her writing skills.
Does she like the genre? Not really. She recalls that on some of the reality TV shows on which she has worked, writers have helped shape the scenes, and in one instance "wrote a scene for two experts we had brought on to comment on what was happening. We wanted them to show special concern for one of the contestants: 'Is she going to lose weight? Is she going to make it?' " The writer continues working for reality TV "because at least it's in my field. And I need to pay my rent."
Still, she is in no way optimistic that her involvement with reality TV will open any doors. On the contrary, she is convinced that many industry insiders hold the genre in contempt and, equally important, are sympathetic to the Writers Guild's position on reality TV—a genre whose shows are mostly produced outside the union's jurisdiction. "They'd be furious if they knew I worked on reality TV," she remarks.
Not surprisingly, it is the union's position on reality TV that has contributed to the reluctance on the part of some writers to talk for the record. Neither of the two aforementioned writers are union-affiliated, yet both would like to be and are more than a little concerned about backlash. And according to the WGA, there are probably more than a few union-affiliated writers who are writing for reality TV shows "under the radar."
The WGA would love to see writers who work for nonunion producers organized. WGA Secretary-Treasurer Patric M. Verrone writes, "The work they are doing is covered in our contract. 'American Idol' (which we don't cover) is in the same genre as 'Star Search' (which we do cover). They are both variety shows. 'The Simple Life' (which we don't cover) is in the same genre as Ken Burns' series (which we do cover). They are both documentaries. 'The Apprentice' (which we don't cover) is ultimately a cousin of 'Jeopardy' (which we do cover). They are both game shows. We cover those categories and we have rates and terms to fit every budget and broadcast venue."
Further, he writes that, contrary to the popular belief that reality TV programming is being produced by companies that are not union signatories, "most of these shows are either directly produced or indirectly controlled by companies who are our signatories, hiding behind legal and corporate structures that are simply a dodge. The companies with whom we negotiate insist that they are not the employers on these shows and films. They are merely 'affiliated companies' or distributors of these shows and, as such, they can't be legally forced to employ WGA writers."
Money-saving and union erosion is only part of the equation, asserts television scribe Charles Rubin. "Historically, producers who don't write—the best television writers also produce their own shows—just don't like writers. What's happening with reality TV is a way for producers to take their nuts back. It's an act of revenge against writers."
Chris Albers, who is a writer with "Late Night With Conan O'Brien," points to the central factor: "Producers of these shows have to maintain the idea that these shows are nonscripted. It's a lie, of course, but it's an artistic consideration, in addition to the opportunity to save money."
The two unidentified West Coast writers would love to become union members, not simply for the improved salaries, plus pensions and health insurance—neither of which they receive—but also for improved working conditions, which they contend are currently appalling.
"Everyone is made to feel that he or she is dispensable," notes one of the writers. "And the scheduling is jaw-droppingly abusive. It's a six-day week with 12-hour shifts."
The other writer contends, "If you're lucky, you'll work 12-hour shifts for six days a week. The problem is that many of those days go on for 19 hours, for which you receive no overtime. It's a flat fee. I have another problem: Because I have a pre-existing health condition, I can't get insurance. I need a union job, but I'm contributing to breaking the union. But then isn't everyone in this country doing something he doesn't agree with? It's called survival."