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Posts tagged as “Half-Hour”

Animated or Live-Action TV Show Spec? (Readers’ Mail)

Animated or Live-Action TV Show Spec? (Readers’ Mail)

Now here’s a question…
Is live-action better than animation when it comes to writing TV specs?

On today’s Readers’ Mail, we tackle the big debate thanks to Paul’s question:

Would an animated show like Archer or American Dad be a good choice as a spec script for [the TV writing fellowships]? I worry that a live-action show would be a more appropriate idea and I don’t want to immediately shoot myself in the foot with a bad show choice.
I typically prefer watching and writing comedy, but if sticking a group of zombie snacks in a prison and calling it Walking Dead gets my spec to the top of the pile, that works too.

First off, you need to pick your lane. By that I mean: if you want to write comedy, by all means focus on comedy. But you shouldn’t write a one-hour spec “just because” it may be more well-received (or not). A Walking Dead spec will only work for a drama writer.
Considering that you seem to prefer writing comedy, your next point of order should be to pick a good comedy to spec.
Which brings us to your great question: should you spec an animated show, or a live-action comedy? And does it really make any difference?

The short answer is: no, it doesn’t really make a difference. Up to a point.

Now onto the longer answer.
If you want to apply to the Nickelodeon fellowship, although they do accept animated specs, they can occasionally frown upon them. Or, at the very least, frown upon animated Nickelodeon specs. It’s their bread-and-butter, and they’d rather you show your comedic writing chops through the live-action model.
In regards to the other fellowships, the door is wide open.

With that said, the reality is that there are fewer legitimate animated options to spec. This year for instance, you could write an Archer, a Simpsons/American Dad, a Bob’s Burgers, a Bojack Horseman, a Rick & Morty, and—that’s about it. Four of those six are pretty much over-specced and old, and the other two are somewhat of a gamble. Bojack will undoubtedly become popular this time next year, but it still is a risk right now. Warner Bros. for example is not accepting it.

So, what does my convoluted answer really mean?
Half-hour animated specs are just as valid as live-action ones. In a vacuum. Given their rarity and varying popularity, finding a good animated show to spec is already a difficult task, much less crafting a great one.
FX’s Archer was a very popular comedy spec for a lot of people in its hey-days, but you could argue the show was already this close to being live-action.
Yes, a great animated TV spec will always be a strong choice for any TV writing fellowships. The format is rarely what detracts readers from pushing your script to the top. It’s more likely that the animated show in question isn’t that well-regarded to begin with.

As usual, the answer to most spec choice questions should be boiled down to: pick the show you will write the best spec for. You should not discard a great spec idea just because a show is too much or not enough popular. If you have the bestest Archer spec ever, by all means write it and send it out. Just be aware it’s pretty much most people’s only choice (with Bob’s Burgers) when it comes to recent animated shows.

Finally, in regards to professionally writing in animation as opposed to live-action, I’ll refer you to this post by BFF Kiyong Kim on the subject. Here’s an excerpt:

Several animation writers in the studio all gave us the same advice – don’t write for animation! They told us to go work in live action. The pay is better because it’s WGA and there are residuals.

Gotta love straightforward salary advice.

So what do you think dear reader? If you have a question, feel free to send me a message.

Write on.

Profiles of Television: Meghan Pleticha – TV Writer’s Assistant & Script Coordinator (Silicon Valley/Married)

Profiles of Television: Meghan Pleticha – TV Writer’s Assistant & Script Coordinator (Silicon Valley/Married)

Profiles of Television is an ongoing interview series showcasing the variety of professionals in the TV industry, from writers and producers, to those in development, representation, and post-production. These are the many talents involved in television, and the personal journeys behind them.

Today’s guest is Meghan Pleticha. A very talented comedy writer, she started as both writer’s assistant and script coordinator on a freshman show (season 1 of FX’s Married). Meghan is currently working in the same capacity on another cable series, this one in its second year: HBO’s Silicon Valley.

The Medium

First things first: why the television calling?
I love TV more than most other things in the world. I was really into poetry in college. Yeah, I was “that girl”. I remember that writing my first script felt a lot like writing a sonnet. I loved how structural it was. I’ve never been a film person but I’ve watched probably more television than is healthy.
Pursuing television as a career is now a no-brainer. The writer is in charge. I like how fast it is. I like constant deadlines. I like the visual medium. I like making people laugh quickly. I like that you’re generating something constantly, versus a film which can take years. I want to be forced to generate as much material as I can. It might not be all amazing, but percentage-wise, you end up with a larger “good” chunk. It’s a numbers game.

Three words to describe what you write.
Sweet dick jokes. Like dick jokes with heart, not like “Dude, sweet dick joke!”

Three words to describe how you write.
The ideal way would be: Early. A game-changer in my life was getting up and writing before I go to work. Often. That’s the only way I can write and keep doing it. If you stop you’ll never start again. And to steal a phrase from Parks & Rec—“full-assedly”. You can’t half-ass it. You have to try, fully. Sometimes I do write crap but when my writing is good, I did not bullshit it.
On a bad writing day, I’m writing: Rushed. Never. And only transcribing whatever I wrote in an outline or something. “Hi. Hi! How are you? I’m good, you? I’m fine.”

Name—
—the television series that has influenced you the most:
It’s got to be something before I was aware of television writing as a career. Everything I’ve watched since then is tainted by the “how would I do this” question. It would probably have to be something I grew up with.
I think it has to be The Simpsons. It started airing when I was a kid, and watched it all the way through adolescence. It’s funny looking back, because I’m not sure how I understood it as a child. There are so many levels. There were things I remember about it that really connected with me. Maybe I wanted to be Lisa Simpson and maybe wanted to play the saxophone—which I did for like two months. And it was the first time I saw a television show that was very funny, but about things that applied to the real world we lived in.
It’s probably that or Full House. I can vaguely tell you some plotlines but I know I watched it constantly, so it must have influenced me. Pete & Pete was another big one I watched. Or Hey Dude. I’m just giving you a list at this point. [laughs] It’s hard to say just the one thing influenced you. Whatever was on SNICK. Clarissa Explains It All. What a role model. She used computers in the 90s. Ahead of her time!

—the one episode of television that defines you:
Off the cuff, the one episode of television that defines me is probably Triangle, from X-Files. It’s just an episode I remember very well. It defines me because it was very fun with interesting storytelling methods. It also has playfulness.
That was around the time people started complaining on the Internet. People bitched that it wasn’t a “real” X-Files episode. I remember reading those reviews and being confused because I enjoyed it. So I was like: “Am I dumb?” [laughs]

—the television episode that impressed you the most:
It has to be the Archer pilot. It genuinely surprised me, which can be hard for a TV show to do once you start trying to write for the medium. It’s especially impressive with a comedy because part of what makes it good is the surprise. Good storytelling involves a believable surprise. Pilots are so hard to write. Archer is very well done in terms of establishing relationship and character while telling a story that I couldn’t see where it was going.
The moment that impressed me the most was when Archer got a boner. I didn’t see it coming—but even better, I didn’t see his mother’s reaction to it! Everything about it was amazing.

—the show you wish was still on the air:
I was recently disappointed that Surviving Jack and Enlisted got cancelled. Sometimes it’s better than things do end. This is horrible for jobs but if it goes too long—I didn’t enjoy for example the last season of The X-Files. Season 8 was a clear resolution in terms of the existence of that story.

—the show you would never publicly admit to watching, except right now:
I’m trying to think of what I watch on Hulu. Sometimes you go down holes… The other day, I accidentally got sucked into some Korean reality show. It auto-played after something so I dove right in. I was curious at first, and then wanted to see how the rest of the episode played out. I have no idea what it’s called. There were these girls in schoolgirl outfits—it felt very pervy. I think they were some sort of pop group. Weirdly, they also had to go through these challenges—like photoshoots, pretending they were paparazzi. So are they pop singers? It was just very confusing.

—the show you wish you had worked on:
Buffy. But more because everyone who worked on it says how great it was to be on it. By the way, one of my favorite things in interviews is when people talk to writers who worked with Joss Whedon, asking them: “what’s it like working with him?” And the answer is always just: “Oh, it’s great.” It’s the funniest thing. In general, when something is really good, you can’t always describe why it is.
Parks & Rec would also be an amazing show. It had a good combination of things I’m interested in. Bureaucracy, feminism, being nice to people. [laughs] meghan pleticha landscape

The Journey

What has been, so far, your journey in the television industry?
In high-school, I thought I’d be a theater actress. In college, I studied English while doing Shakespearean performances. I also got involved in student sketch comedy. Towards the end of school, I thought I would end up writing for magazines. I knew I was a “writer” but not necessarily a novelist, and since magazines are shorter than novels it seemed more doable. [laughs] I moved out to New York to pursue that. When I graduated, my dad [who is not in the industry] told me he’d hire me as a PA, but I rebuffed him. “I don’t want to work in entertainment. Dad, that’s dumb!”
Since print is a dying industry, that path didn’t exactly work out. Then the recession hit. I also reached a point in my freelance career where I wouldn’t meet the editors in person. They would just e-mail me. I had this moment where I asked myself: “Why am I living in New York to e-mail people?” I could literally do that anywhere with Internet access. One of my friends suggested I take a writing class to meet other writers, and reconnect with New York.
I ended up taking a television writing class. The very first one, the teacher said to move to Los Angeles if we really meant to write for TV. I ended up coming back to LA. After that, I tried to get assistant gigs but no interviews. Months of unemployment later, I eventually took an internship at a boutique talent agency. You do so much free work when you first get to LA—but it usually leads to paid work if people aren’t assholes. So I did free work, then temp work, then got a full time office gig at BAFTA LA. Bounced around a little bit.
Eventually, someone offered a job to a friend working as script coordinator. She couldn’t take it, so she recommended me. And it worked out. Ultimately, I’d only say I’ve worked in TV (production) for six months. So uh, take everything I’m saying with a grain of salt.

How did you get hired as a writer’s assistant?
Being a writer’s assistant is something I actually did not believe was going part of my path in the industry. When I started out, I was trying to get low-level jobs on shows to work my way up. But I wasn’t even getting those interviews. Looking back, I’m sure I could have done things differently, but I’m not sure what. Working at BAFTA, I figured I’d just have the day job and could write my scripts.
For both writer’s assistant gigs, someone recommended me. In this industry, you need people to vouch for you but you need to earn that. And the thing with being hired at the assistant level is that it’s the last thing they’re figuring out. It’s really a roll of the dice, numbers-game. You know someone who knows someone who at that exact moment needs someone.

Can you talk about your experience being in the room?
That’s probably the best part of being a writer’s assistant. Getting that experience without having the same pressure of being in the room as a writer. You learn a lot about how to pitch things. Just seeing how people do it is really useful. Seeing how people interact. The etiquette. There is a hierarchy in the room that’s very helpful. Obviously the showrunner is calling the shots. When they say they like an idea, follow that train. It’s exciting seeing people pitch on the path that’s being created.
It’s also interesting because people have this idea that a writer’s assistant position is going to be their ticket in. “You’re going to get a script” or “you’re going to get bumped to staff”. There’s no guarantee of that, and it’s not even appropriate to expect it. I’m learning so much about production, being in the room, how different writers work. But it’s not the golden ticket people believe it is. It’s a job.

What is your day-to-day like?
I get to the office about an hour before the writers and make sure to take care of anything needed then. It also helps if you can organize on the go. Most of the day is taking notes on what the writers are saying. You might also be asked to pull videos—whatever is being referenced (casting videos, etc.). My computer is usually directly connected to the TV. We’re not in production yet, which should be a little more hectic. Since I also work as a script coordinator, it’ll be different then. More about making sure script stuff is there. Putting out pages and revisions as required, proofreading, making sure everything makes sense.

What is the hardest thing about being a writer’s assistant?
For me personally, it’s not panicking every day that I’ve screwed up my career forever. Which is also a general thing I worry about in my life. I used to not care about the jobs that I had. But now the day job has such weight—as if it could matter to your career.
The main challenge to being a writer’s assistant though is staying focused. Even when you’re tired. Even when someone’s pitching something you’ve heard a bunch. You need to make sure to capture any nuances to it.
The same can be said for being a script coordinator. The hardest thing is that the scripts you receive needed to go out ten minutes ago. Whatever changes are happening, they need to go out ASAP, while being perfect. Keeping your wits about you is the hardest thing.

What is the easiest thing about being a writer’s assistant?
Eating. [laughs] Lunch just arrives for me since the writers production assistant gets it. I don’t have to make lunch in the morning. Which is a lifesaver. You’re not rolling in the dough as an assistant, so being fed is a huge money-saver. That’s probably the biggest change between working a random day job and this one.

Who do you look up to in the television industry?
I am impressed by anyone in Hollywood who seems normal. “You’re a nice, normal human being and you’ve lived in LA for 30 years?!” [laughs] That’s impressive because I feel like I’ve only become crazier since moving to Los Angeles.

What is the ideal job you would like to ultimately have?
Showrunner. But not for a long time. My ideal career would be me working as a staff writer and up. Preferably on multiple hit shows and pleasant working situations. Renewed with long terms, so when I leave I know I’ll come back to a job. [laughs] Ultimately, I’d like to a run show. Mostly because I like being in charge of things.

When people from outside the industry ask what you do, what do you tell them?
I tell them I’m a writer’s assistant because no one outside the industry knows what a script coordinator is. I then usually explain that most television shows are written by a group of writers sitting in a room together. And it’s my job to write down everything they say and take notes.

What is your best professional advice to someone who wants to do what you do?
A big thing about being a writer’s assistant: practice your typing. Transcribe episodes of TV that you like. Most people in my generation are pretty good typists because of IM so it’s not something to freak out about. But you can always be better.
If you’re trying to get a job in Los Angeles, take the meeting even if it’s not exactly what you want. You never know who you’re going to meet there. Especially when you’re starting out with no contacts. It’s a lot of baby steps.
If it’s not the right position, be okay with walking away if you can avoid burning bridges.
Work for free. Again, only as long as it benefits you. You’re definitely benefiting them more than you. I got opportunities off of doing a few gigs. You then have something on your resume and know some people who can vouch for you.
Be clear about what you do want. Even for random assistant interviews I used to go to, unrelated to writing for television, I’d still say I wanted to write for TV. That said, I would also be clear, “I’d love to work here for XYZ valid reasons.”
Also, don’t be a dick. Most of life is don’t be a dick. Although in comedy rooms you can kind of be a dick if it’s funny. I think. I’m still learning that one.

What is your best personal advice to someone who wants to do what you do?
Maintaining friendships in Los Angeles is harder than other places. Maintaining relationships in Los Angeles is harder than other places. Relationships and friendships are the things that are going to last, regardless of where you work or what you’re doing. It’s really important, especially if you’re working on a show or a place with non-regular hours, that you make the effort to see your friends and loved ones. Eventually, the show will be over, and no one will have heard from you in four months. They’re not going to invite you to anything. It’s such an effort, but your real friends will understand that you don’t want to go to the movies but they can come over on your couch (watching TV with a bottle of wine).
This is a marathon. You can’t get too down on yourself if things aren’t going the way you’d expect or you didn’t get the recommendation you wanted.
Writing, relationships, work, sleep. You can only pick two. Maybe three of those. Choose wisely.

What is your next step?
It’s very similar to when I was working an office job. I’m very grateful and happy to be a writer’s assistant and script coordinator. These positions have been amazing opportunities, but they could be stepping stones just as they could not. There’s no guarantee. There are always unseen obstacles and ones you don’t even know about. TV is so hard to make that getting that first writing gig is such a crazy random thing.
That all said, my immediate next step is to finish the pilot that I’m so close to finishing—hopefully tomorrow. It just needs a punch-up! [laughs] The next creative step is probably working on a web-series I’ve been talking about with a few friends. It’s nice to have a finished product. It feels like you’ve accomplished something.
After that, probably another pilot. Everyone wants pilots. Although my theory is that within the next few years, the transition that happened between spec scripts to pilots, is going to happen with pilots to web-series. It’s an easy way for people to see someone’s voice. They don’t have to read anything. Five years from now, we can talk and find out if I was right.

Any last words?
There’s always more opportunities. I’ve definitely missed out on many jobs. Maybe some agent read my stuff and didn’t like it. There’s always going to be more people. You grow up being taught you only have so many chances in life, but that’s not true. Hollywood has the shortest memory of any city I know. I’ve messed up interviews, typos on my resume– You fuck up sometimes, but just keep at it, don’t fall over.
Just stand up. Look at what you did wrong, figure out why it happened, figure out why it’ll never happen again. And then when it happens again, have a mild heart-attack, drink a bottle of wine, and get up again—this time with a hangover. Drink some coffee. It’s going to be fine.

—

Many thanks to the amazingly talented (and awesome) Meghan Pleticha!
You can follow her on Twitter.
Season 2 of Silicon Valley airs Sundays at 10PM on HBO.

6 Screenwriting Lessons from Parks and Recreation

6 Screenwriting Lessons from Parks and Recreation

A key part of writing for television is watching television. And learning from it.
Screenwriting lessons from tackles series past and present, analyzing them through the prism of screenwriting.

It was only a few months ago that NBC’s Parks and Recreation concluded its seven-season run. From absurd government action to now-iconic characters, the show offered us some of the funniest moments in recent television history.
Time to take a look at this amazing mockumentary-style comedy. Because time is money. Money is power. Power is pizza. And pizza is knowledge.

[As usual, I’ll be talking about the series as a whole. I highly recommend you watch the entire show before reading this post—it’s worth it.]


Lesson 1: Don’t let a format define your story

When Parks and Recreation started airing in 2009, a large amount of viewers quickly dismissed it as a “carbon copy” of NBC’s The Office. It didn’t help that both were basically made by the same people. Leslie was reduced as Michael Scott’s dimwitted protagonist clone, and the tone of the show was being described as “mean-spirited”. Its first season was promptly ridiculed and set aside.
Six years later, Parks now stands as one of the greatest mockumentary-style comedies ever to appear on TV. Sure, there have been a few lackluster episodes, but its (somewhat-)handheld format never shackled the series. One could even argue the series thrived in spite of it.
Co-creator Michael Schur explained back in 2011 why the show used the specific format:

We wanted this to be a mockumentary show because in the world of government, the difference between what goes on behind closed doors and what people present to the public is a huge issue. Plus, the single-camera format can be alienating, and the talking heads help us relate directly to the audience, and provide breaks in the action.

Notice how there is no mention of the mockumentary style as a narrative component. The idea is (or was) about contrasting what we see and what is said, not experiencing a fake documentary. This specific mockumentary format is only a “take” on the government world. It isn’t meant to be a story element in of itself (unlike, again, The Office).
Forget using the meta structure of a documentary crew as one of your plotlines. The hell with confessionals rooted in realism. We were treated with awkward and multiple angles, jump-cuts, and a less voyeuristic approach overall. Hell, we even saw our characters evolve right up to the year 2048. As long as it services them as well as their story, there is no “real” reason not have a camera present. In fact, the series almost completely abandoned its format in the latter-season episode “The Johnny Karate Super Awesome Musical Explosion Show” (7×10).
At the end of the day, Parks and Recreation was able (and willing) to grow out of The Office‘s shadow because it transcended the format it was born in. Similar style. Completely different world.
Learn how to move past the limitations of your own structure and style, or thrive within them.

Lesson 2: Supporting characters are as important as your main cast

Many comparisons can be made between Parks and FOX’s The Simpsons: talking heads (Perd Hapley/Kent Brockman), sex scandal-embroiled politicians (Dexhart/Quimby), rival towns (Pawnee/Springfield vs. Eagleton/Shelbyville). Both shows also brilliantly use the mob mentality. Citizens are easily swayed to vote against their own best interests on multiple occasions.
The overarching commonality however is that both shows excel in making their respective towns three-dimensional. Parks always tries to deepen Pawnee (and Eagleton), especially when it helps both story and humor. JJ’s Diner is as identifiable with Parks as Apu’s Kwik-E-Mart is to The Simpsons. The Gryzzl startup (and its CEO) were objects of ridicule as well as catalysts for conflict in the final two seasons. We learned of Dennis Feinstein’s existence several seasons before Jason Mantzoukas started inhabiting the role (in “Indianapolis” (3×06)). The same holds true for the cavalcade of recurring characters. The series excels with them for one simple reason: they are not just obstacles or sources of conflicts for our protagonists, nor are they just jokes in of themselves. They are shades of this world. They are living and breathing Pawnee citizens.
Never underestimate your secondary characters. In fact, use them as a continuously-untapped layer to enrich your world and stories.

Lesson 3: Know when to move on

Raise your hand if Mark Brendanawicz was your favorite character on the show. Probably half of you just said: “Who the hell is–Oooh, the guy from season one. Brendanaquits!” Yes, Brendanaquits. If you’ll recall, Leslie’s long-standing crush on Mark was promptly swept under the rug right after the first season because it didn’t seem to work for the writers. The character himself made his departure following “Freddy Spaghetti” (2×24). He was supposed to come back, like the real-life city planner he was based on, but I guess that didn’t work out as planned. Either way, the voluntary decision to exile the character shows that Parks and Recreation was always willing to move on. It always tried to stay fresh and avoid some perpetual status quo.
Quoting Michael Schur on this concept:

All of these decisions fall under the general heading of character development. My own preference is that everyone on the show should be in a different place at the end of a season from where they were at the beginning of the season. I don’t like shows where you catch an episode in repeats and it could literally be from season 2 or season 8. People change in real life, and I think they should on TV as well.

Another example is the “pit plot“. It’s an iconic storyline in the show, yet it barely lasted two seasons. Most comedies would have dragged on the plot for the duration of the show. Instead, the area promptly got filled in year two so we could move on to newer, better stories. Shows should never be afraid to evolve.

Lesson 4: Take risks within relationships—when it makes character sense

We just talked about how Parks was able to keep a fresh pace with its plot. The same can be said with the many relationships in the show. When April and Andy got married out of the blue during “Andy and April’s Fancy Party” (3×09), it caught off guard everyone (including viewers). This wasn’t just because it was a joke. The shock came from the fact that the wedding actually happened. Even better, it completely fit the relationship in question and the characters’ impulsive nature. Continuing with Michael Schur’s own comments:

All we knew was that we wanted to avoid the standard-issue TV romance plots: fights, other men/women driving them apart, and so on. We just thought about who they were – two impulsive goofballs who don’t approach their lives in a responsible, adult manner – and decided, what the hell? What if they just make a rash decision and get hitched? As soon as the idea came up we felt it made sense, and as a bonus, the stakes would subsequently be higher for every story we told about their relationship.

Herein lies one of the great things behind the writing of Parks and Recreation: realistic character development. The idea is to always organically push the characters in their logical direction instead of having them run circles. Ben’s understated (and perfect) marriage proposal to Leslie in “Halloween Surprise” (5×05) is another great way to show a leap with two central characters.
When it comes to your own series relationships, commit forward instead of taking a step back. There is rarely (if ever) a need to stagnate. Fresh paint needs time to dry, not a TV show (with exception).

Lesson 5: Make Flanderization work for, not against you

“Flanderization” is a famous television trope that describes the act of “taking a single (often minor) action or trait of a character within a work and exaggerating it more and more over time until it completely consumes the character.” As you might have guessed, the trope got its name from The Simpsons‘ Ned Flanders. He initially was a friendly neighbor and attentive father, but has over the years become solely defined by his obsession with religion.
Much like one now thinks of “religious zealot” with Flanders, you could define most scenes with Parks‘ Ron as featuring an “anti-governmental meat-eating secretive woodsman”. The same could also apply to Andy and “lovable idiot man-child”, although it really wasn’t until the beginning of his life outside of Ann’s house that he became a kinder person. So, how did the show avoid “Flanderization”? Well, it didn’t. It used it to its own advantage.
An entire mythology was built around Ron’s enigmatic aura. Sometimes it got reduced to “steak and eggs”, but when it worked it built the character instead of diminish it. Andy similarly had layers developed around being a simple goofball (Burt Tyrannosaurus Macklin and Johnny Karate being two persona extensions).
It could even be argued that the characters went through a “reverse Flanderization” process. The characters were more defined by a singular tone in the first season than in later years. Andy was a lazy and clingy ex-boyfriend, Leslie was an (even more) obnoxious Tracy Flick (or, as described above, reminiscent of Michael Scott), April was, like, whatever man, and Ron said two words.
A bad way of dealing with the trope is to not only define a character by that one aspect, but specifically limit him/her with that layer. Parks not only embraced those characterizations, but went deeper. The “good way” isn’t necessarily about making the trait less “over-the-top”, it is about humanizing it in the process. In other words, you do not reduce a character down to the trait, you expand on it.

Lesson 6: Being positive does not have to mean being sappy

Earnest comedy and positive relationships. Two of Parks and Recreation‘s unsung strengths. While everyone is trying to add some form of edge to their show, this NBC comedy never shied away from having actually nice characters (or silly ones) with heart. And making it all matter in the end.
Even with Leslie’s intense care for everyone she loves (in planning birthdays or other surprises), that “crazy” intensity was never played against her on the show. Parks rarely (if ever) undercut the true sincere emotions of characters for cheap laughs. Ann or Ben were often overwhelmed by Leslie’s antics, however none of them were the butts of jokes. In “Anniversaries” (6×14), we smiled with Leslie at Ben’s awestruck expression while he was sitting on the Iron Throne (one of the truer portrayals of a nerd), but we were all playing (including Leslie, trying to make him happy). Everyone was “in on it”.
A lot of the relationships on the show also led to affairs of the heart. Every major character ends up being linked to a key romantic pair by series end: Ben and Leslie, Chris and Ann, April and Andy, Ron and Diane, Tom and Natalie Morales’ Lucy, Jerry and his wife Gayle (a pre-series romance putting him at odds with the rest of the cast—and played that way), Rita and Keegan-Michael Key’s Joe. Even Craig finds “true love” in the series finale.
In that respect, the show’s true success is playing those romances not as sappy ideals, but as realistic relationships (albeit kind ones). Just because they are positive does not make them impossible. Ben and Leslie, the closest lovers on the show, still have to deal with their triplets (and Jennifer Barkley). Chris and Ann’s romance is never portrayed as “true love”, only the most ideal match for their baby.
If anything, Parks and Recreation is a great example of a show that embraces its sincerity and heart without compromising humor, story or character. Refreshing, in an age of gritty everything.

What to take from the show

In a word: character. If you don’t underestimate the heart of the series, then the relationships you create will carry the momentum forward. This is also why there’s no reason to be scared of big story moves, or to be anxious about dropping stale storylines. As long as you fulfill the characters’ potential, and develop them properly, you can’t betray the spirit of your show.