And So The Writers Are On Strike

Here's why a bunch of nerds are holding signs today.

The Writers Guild of America is on strike.

It’s pencils down.

There are a thousand explainers online, including one I haphazardly did on Twitter, but here’s the gist of what’s going on. As usual, I’m dumb as hell, so if I get anything wrong or you hear otherwise from an official source, trust them over me.

Over the last two decades, a lot of new outlets have entered the space and there’s a lot of new content to make (this is pretty good). However, many of those same new outlets are run by tech conglomerates expecting infinite profit off infinite growth (this is pretty bad). Both of these points are important.

While there is far more content being made, companies - as they’re wont to do - are trying to make this content while still spending as little as possible. You may notice seasons on TV are shorter. This alone isn’t a cost-cutting measure; it’s also part of a larger cultural trend of preferring more cinematic-looking television experiences which often come at a premium. There are other legit artistic reasons for shorter seasons we don’t need to get into. 

What we do need to get into is that having shorter seasons also allows for less pay. You theoretically need fewer writers in the room breaking, writing, and punching-up stories. Even better, you need those writers for a shorter period of time. So a job that used to last months could now last weeks - while paying the same amount of money per week. It’s simple math: Writers are taking home less money than before.

This is compounded by issues regarding streaming minimums and residuals. Minimums make sure that writers - especially newer and younger writers - aren’t taken advantage of and paid as little as possible “for exposure.” Right now, based on your genre of television, streaming platform minimums range from low to non-existent. In fact, studios in negotiations have indicated they want to turn some writing jobs from weekly rates into day rates, allowing them to essentially cut pay even further. 

Meanwhile, residuals pay the writer (and actors, directors, etc.) for reruns of their show. It’s a little more complicated than that and the economics of how residual amounts are decided are an arcane science to which I have little understanding. But here too the streaming networks have the advantage because they very rarely allow anyone to see their numbers. They may say in the press a new movie or show has the most viewers of any event in human history - but they’ll often keep the specifics of those numbers under their hats and cry poverty when it comes time to pay residuals to creatives. 

Trying to pay as little as possible is not a new business trick. It exists in every business. Show business is, in fact, like every other business I know. Hollywood Math has been used to avoid paying taxes and to claim wild successes were abysmal failures in order to keep from shelling extra cash out on deals. Hollywood has been fucking people over since they filmed their train pulling into a station motion picture.

However, the fact is that there are now new ways of fucking over the people who make your entertainment. They are slashing writing schedules (“If you can write it in twelve weeks, you can write it in six”), preventing writers from going to set (“We aren’t gonna pay for that”), and keeping shows from even knowing how well they’re performing (“Good enough to brag about, bad enough to claim we need to cut your budget”). 

It’s hard to become a writer. Well, for most people. If one of your parents was a famous actor or director, you can basically write whatever you want. That would be my biggest writing tip: Be born rich and within the proximity of long-lasting fame. You’ll get book deals, movie deals, more deals than you know what to do with. Oh, the IPs you’ll have access to alone!

I’m being a bit facetious. All writers deserve respect. However, people who were broke writing plays for years, doing standup for decades, or taking improv classes for hours shouldn’t have to stay broke once they finally reach one of the most prestigious positions in entertainment. Not everyone has to become a millionaire, but people selling and writing for successful shows and movies shouldn’t be struggling to make ends meet or live in fear that the next job won’t be for another year.

Nor should writers have to compete against A.I. material generated by the corporations. Let’s be clear: as of right now, most of the A.I. we’re glamorizing is just a hyper-advanced autofill. The same way you might write, “Christmas is” and your phone might suggest “exciting.” Your phone doesn’t think Christmas is exciting. Or coming to town. Or seven months away. That was just the information it was pulling to best complete the prompt. Using A.I. is simply using pre-existing material to autofill a prompt. The sentient A.I. we like to imagine playfully giving us goofy answers and twenty-fingered people is currently a fantasy. It’s autofill. 

This year, the Writers Guild of America proposed banning A.I. from the creative process. Not banning A.I. entirely. But simply that A.I. could not be used to come up with ideas, write ideas, or iterate on ideas. Literally the same ethics a college has for its students. If we should expect that an essay about Shakespeare was written by a person, we should expect that a movie about Shakespeare was written by a person.

We don’t want more money. We don’t want luxurious conditions. We don’t want our names to appear first in the credits. I mean, actually, we’d love all of those things. Don’t get me wrong. We’re not idiots. Mostly. What we’re asking for, though, is for the bleeding to stop. We need the corporations who run the entertainment industry to stop trying to cut creative corners while destroying the livelihoods of the people who literally write the words the beautiful people say to each other before kissing. 

In a time when media corporations are making record profits, writers and other creatives should not somehow be taking home less. When there are more shows than ever, jobs should not be harder to find and feature worse contracts. It’s dumb. We’re the ones creating the success of these companies. We’re the ones writing the one-liners and the jokes and the monologues and the story arcs. The shows and the movies and the narrative podcasts don’t exist without us.

That’s why the Writers Guild of America is on strike.