LIKE THE TITLE ALMOST SAYS, I'm teaching a new pilot class!

What follows is: bad news, good news, advice, the way, and a bonus.

THE BAD NEWS:
The Writers' Strike is probably coming. This means things are kind of frozen in the television industry right now. Nobody wants to commit to anything new if it's just gonna go away for a month, or 6 months, or (gulp) longer)...

THE GOOD NEWS:
...which means this is a perfect time to get your ducks in a row. Get your scripts ready. Be ready to hit the ground running when things open up again. Networks and streamers will be thirsty for content, and if you have a portfolio of work that shows off your skills, maybe they'll want that content from you.

THE ADVICE:
The most frequent question I get from students and other people who are interested in writing for television is, "How do I break in?" My success comes down to three factors:

1) Hard work
2)Relationships
3) Luck

When I started thinking about getting into writing for television, I took a sitcom writing class, and started writing scripts (hard work). I became friends with a guy in an improv class (relationship!). Right after I moved to Los Angeles, he sold a pilot and asked me to work with him (and lots and lots of other people) on making it (my good luck- right place, right time). After the pilot got picked up to series, he asked me if I could give him a script that he could show to the producers, the network, and the showrunner. By then I had written 6 or 7 television sitcom scripts (more hard work).  I had one I thought was worth showing to people, and I guess it was, because I got hired.

I can't help with luck (nobody can), or with relationships (classes, meetups, therapy, Tinder, elderly matchmakers...). But I can help with the hard work part. 

THE WAY:
I'm offering another Master Class in Writing a Sitcom Pilot. 

The class starts April 23, 2023. It meets Sundays from 1-4 PM PST, on April 23 and 30, May 7, 14, 21, and 28, and June 4, 11, and 18. 8 of the sessions are group sessions with the rest of the class, which I operate as closely as possible to an actual writers' room-  from the introduction and development of the pilot idea, to the pre-writing and outlining of the pilot, to actual scenes, everybody is responsible for everybody.  Then there is a 9th meeting, which is one on one with me, to discuss the actual script you've finished. The cost of the class is $550. The size of the class is limited, so sign up now.

THE BONUS:
Sign up before April 8 and get an extra 30-minute phone/Zoom session with me, two weeks after the class ends, to discuss the rewrite of your pilot script, or whatever the next project you have decided to work on is. 

Go here to sign up now: 

Or, go to my website for more info on the classes, and some testimonials:

https://www.seanconroy.com/classes

Good luck, everybody! Stay safe, and keep writing.

best


Sean

PS No ducks were harmed in the writing of this email (hilarious!) (look forward to more jokes like these) (that was only one "joke," if you can call it that)

The Sean Conroy Lifeletter #71

Happy Father’s Day! And Happy Juneteenth!
 
So yeah, in 6th grade I got put in a program for “gifted” students. It might seem like we should have gotten beaten up by the other students for being nerds, but instead, they just circulated petitions at recess, about how unfair it was that we were being treated better than they were (those fucking nerds). 
 
The craziest thing about that program was that one day a week we had enrichment classes. Art, Dance, and Film. 
 
FOR THE WHOLE DAY.
 
No math, no science, no reading, no writing (well, maybe some writing in Film class). Just dancing around, drawing a bunch of crap, and being silly on camera. For 20% of our week (see? I didn't even NEED math class that much). 
 
We had to “pick a major” in one of the three at the beginning of the year, and that was what we would do all Thursday afternoon after lunch. The morning was split between the two classes we didn’t major in.
 
I got together with two of my friends to discuss our choice of majors- the pros and cons of each, our individual strengths and weaknesses, whether this or that major would help us get further in life, how it would look on our college applications, whether it would limit our incomes later in life, everything it's important to take into consideration when you are picking an arts “major” in 6th grade. And ultimately we made what we thought at the time, and what I in retrospect agree, was a brilliantly counterintuitive choice. 
 
We would major in dance. Dance? Why would three 12 year old boys major in dance? We weren’t actually dancers, in any way. We had no dance training. We had no dance aspirations. We had no dance dreams. We didn't even see dance as a potential avocation, going forward. Who would major in dance? We didn’t know for sure, but we had an idea.
 
Girls.
 
That first day we went in, and the class was the three of us, and a bunch of girls. Like, a lot. Fun! I don’t remember a lot about it, I’m guessing we probably... danced around a bit? It was definitely the first time where I did that acting/dance/improv warmup where you connect a sound to a movement- in this case the sound was my name and the movement was ... something fandancical. No idea. How would YOU dance “Sean Con-roy”?  But I very specifically remember the teacher, whose real name I won’t use (privacy or what have you), but let’s say it was Janet Jenkins (seriously it wasn't), screaming “JA-NET JEN-KINS!”  and flinging her body around so enthusiastically that I was afraid she had dislocated something.  But it was just her dignity and high status as a teacher floating away.
 
It turned out she wasn’t really much of a teacher, I guess more of a dancer? Though she did leave for a while mid-year to compete on a game show...  The class was fun, although (or perhaps because) she didn’t have much in the way of classroom management and discipline skills. Basically, a two-hour dance party every Thursday afternoon, is how I remember it. About the extent of her being in control was that sometimes she would force one of my friends (the one who was the most out of control of the three of us) to go sit in the kindergarten class.  Very small chairs.*
 
*Of those two other guys, one went on to be very high up in the food chain of a major media conglomerate, and the other became a lawyer. Then, a convicted felon. “Con-VIC-ted FE-lon!” I got into comedy. Which... insert joke about splitting the difference or whatever.
 
We also went to our first art class, and our first film class. The classes we had decided not to major in. 
 
I’m guessing the art class was fine- we probably did something with cray pas or charcoals or pastels. They always give you the good shit the first day, to get your hopes up. Then comes the crushing disappointment. 
 
But the film class? Whoa.
 
We decided after that we wouldn’t go to the art class anymore- we would spend all morning in film, first ours, then the one that was only for art majors. Yes, I became an inveterate class-cutter in a 6th grade gifted enrichment program. The art teacher never said a word about it to us (she must have noticed, we were the only boys in the class). The folm teacher also must have noticed, because we were there way too much. But he never said anything either.  I suffered no consequences for it, ever (except years later, perhaps, when I became involved in animation and was relentlessly mocked by my colleagues for my deeply rudimentary and primitive drawing skills). **
 
**There may also have been karmic retribution when I reached 7th grade, and one time the hottest girl in 8th grade sat next to me on the bus on a school trip and, during the course of our conversation, asked me if I wanted to sleep with her. It definitely felt like a bit of a trick question, with no right answer, but before I could answer, I realized there were a bunch of her friends sitting in various parts of the bus in close proximity to us, watching intently, snickering... how is that karmic retribution for cutting art class? She was the art teacher’s daughter. Different school, same family.
 
Anyway, film class...
 
TO BE CONTINUED

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