Working the room
With credits on series including Fake and Bump, Australian scribe Jessica Tuckwell takes DQ inside a writers’ room and reveals what it’s like for a writer to work on a show they haven’t created themselves.
A screenwriter and director who specialises in drama, comedy-drama and adaptations, Jessica Tuckwell has both created her own series and worked to support shows created by others.
Alongside credits including Les Norton and We Interrupt This Broadcast, Tuckwell was script producer on the first two seasons of Stan original series Bump and wrote multiple episodes across its three seasons.
The series follows an ambitious teenage girl who has a surprise baby, and explores unplanned motherhood, unwelcome new relatives, unintended consequences and the complications that ensue for two families.
Having earned an Australian Writers Guild award nomination for one episode of Bump S2 that she wrote and directed, Tuckwell then co-created spin-off miniseries Year Of for Stan, writing three episodes and directing the final two episodes of the series.
Most recently, she wrote on Paramount+ Australia & New Zealand series Fake, which stars Asher Keddie as Birdie, a beautiful and smart magazine features writer who thinks she has found ‘the one’ when she meets successful grazier Joe Burt (David Wenham) on a dating app. Convinced by her well-meaning friends and family that this could be her very own happily ever after, Birdie begins to believe it’s finally her chance to live the fairy-tale life. But when cracks start to form in Joe’s stories, Birdie discovers her boyfriend isn’t all he has led her to believe.
Here, Tuckwell tells DQ what it’s like for a writer to work on a series they haven’t created, and discusses the skills needed in the writers room and why she doesn’t mind someone else calling the shots.
What were your first steps into the TV business?
After taking a break from theatre directing and playwriting, I had a government job in an unrelated field but wanted to keep some kind of creative output in my life, so I tried a few different avenues into the industry, including studying screenwriting at AFTRS [Australian Film Television and Radio School].
A few years later, I was recommended to a producer as a notetaker to fill in last minute, and I had a sample script ready to share. I did all kinds of TV work for a year or so – notetaking, drafting pitch decks, producer’s assistant, production attachment, making EPKs [electronic press kits] – so I had a solid overview of production, not just writing, before I was offered my first script and was in the room as a writer.
What is your role when you’re in the room?
If it’s not my project, I’m there to help bridge the gap between the materials that exist and the vision for the show, or help articulate what that vision is, and give everything to get that story on the whiteboard. You might understand an ‘on paper’ reason why you specifically have been invited in to help, but sometimes it’s a small mystery to discover the unofficial role you’re playing in the room, as the social dynamics and story instincts start to make themselves known. Australian rooms are constrained by very tight development budgets, so being able to click in, get the vibe and deliver story that suits the project is a useful skill to be sharpened.
Can you describe a typical day in a writers room?
Hopefully the head writer will give some goals for the day, and might ask for any overnight thoughts, or check in if there was heavy stuff discussed the day before. Then it depends where you’re at in the process – do you need to dig deeper into something, rapid-fire brainstorm on a particular topic, solve a major logic problem, find a way to work a new idea into the pilot, tackle a problem section of an episode, or redo the series grid after getting input from a producer?
Important mid-morning decisions are made about lunch – I’ll panic and copy what someone else orders. I swear most afternoons get loopy… some fresh air can be helpful, especially if you’ve hit some kind of roadblock. In the Bump room we often had a little afternoon walk.
How important is collaboration, and is it important to have creative differences too?
In my humble opinion, a dissenting voice is necessary to push an idea or story towards its best version. The last few rooms I’ve worked in, including Fake with creator Anya Beyersdorf, have been extremely fulfilling, fully engaged and rigorous, often with opposing instincts coming up, but importantly everyone making the same show and operating under the same values, so the differences we were advocating for weren’t so fundamental that we couldn’t move forward.
Along with that, there was obvious and vocalised appreciation, and the spirit of the room meant nobody was winning or losing, or having to stay silent to keep the peace. I get a massive buzz from good collaboration, and when you are genuinely surprised and impressed by, and grateful for, someone else’s way of thinking, the differences only create something bigger and better than what you started with, or what you could do on your own.
Are there particular skills or attributes writers should have to best support the room?
Curiosity. A genuine interest in understanding different points of view, knowing that others don’t experience the world the same as you do. A willingness to be wrong, and an openness to learn and improve. Being able to offer or add to an idea or anecdote that translates into show-specific story that goes on the board and into the episodes – that’s probably the most important skill, and that can be misconstrued for simply being able to tell funny or traumatic stories, or talk theoretically about issues. Being able to balance being emotionally open, maybe even vulnerable, and being emotionally regulated and able to maintain some objectivity on the material. A respect and fondness for the people who will watch your show.
Can you describe the work that is done in a writers room and how it sets up the writing process? How does it prepare you to write episodes?
For me, writers rooms feel similar to a rehearsal room, where you’re arming the actors with everything they need to go out and truthfully execute the story and thrill the audience. So I’m spending the time in the writers room doing two main things: ensuring the dramatic spine of the episode is put together well – if it’s out of whack from the beginning, it’s hard to fix along the way – and, simultaneously, hoovering up everything about the characters and their motivations through the prism of the big-picture promises the show is wanting to make to the audience, then clarifying and synthesising it all into something that I can confidently execute.
I might test out dialogue or images to see where my sensibilities enhance, rather than contradict, the overall vision of the episode, and I’ll note down my own mental touchstones for when I’m drafting that tap me back into a particular feeling we were aiming for.
Is there a secret to a successful writers room?
I don’t think it’s a secret. Good leadership goes a long way – a clear sense of what you’re trying to achieve, with clear parameters and expectations, a good sense of traffic-controlling the discussion, modelling generosity and respect, and acknowledging any issues that need to be addressed. The size and composition of a room is an important decision. There is an alchemy, or lack of, that you can’t necessarily plan for – even if you’ve worked with people before, though I think the chances are probably higher if there’s space for people to thrive. A thorough notetaker is a must. And it helps if you’re starting with a great idea.
What lessons have you learned from working in writers rooms, and what advice would you offer aspiring TV writers?
A while back, I had emergency dental work on the way to a room, and my face was so numb I couldn’t talk for the first hour, so I wrote down my thoughts to say later. By then, two ideas had been said by someone else, and the fact they had come to the same thought independently was more important than who had contributed it first. One enduring point became more pertinent, because of what had been discussed in the interim, and may not have had the same effect earlier in the morning. All the others had lost their sense of urgency, becoming redundant for some reason of another. A strong lesson is that the world will survive if you don’t get to share your super-brilliant idea immediately as it comes to you.
How do you balance working on other people’s shows with developing your own original material?
I will never stop enjoying the fun of not being in charge. I’ve run rooms and co-created a show, but being in someone else’s room and helping build theirs is not a source of grievance to me. I find it super fun, I enjoy the snacks more, crack more jokes, and feel relieved my trip home is not spent amending tomorrow’s plan or updating the producer. To just give it your all and go home, and it’s not your responsibility to pull it all together, and at the same time developing your skills more for when you do your own show is amazing.
I’m of course working on my own original slate, and am attached to projects I would be thrilled to make, but it’s the variety of responsibility I enjoy, so I see it as a very fortunate balancing act.
What are you working on next?
I’m trying to manifest another opportunity to work with Anya; I’m co-creating a crime mystery with [director] Robert Delamere; co-writing a feature with [actor] Krew Boylan; and have some TV developments coming up. I’ve just optioned a crime book, Sanctuary, so have started working on that, and I’m playing around with an original drama and a lo-fi comedy. Like many people, I’m trying to find the right thing for an Oz-UK copro, and very happily working in other people’s rooms.
tagged in: Bump, Fake, Jessica Tuckwell, Year Of