Basic Common Cents

 

This was submitted by Thania St. John, WGA member since 1988. For some additional historical context, we recommend also reading this post from Michael Russnow.
There was a green envelope in the mail Friday. A good one. Good enough to take away a little of the sting. But after my husband and I rejoiced for a moment, we realized how much larger that check would’ve been if the show that I now proudly work on hadn’t been aired on basic cable. Which made me start thinking again about how I felt every time I turned in the same 55 pages that my colleagues do on a network show, only to be given 2/3 of money they get for theirs. Believe me, it’s certainly the same amount of work. Sometimes more. But somehow it counts less.

I understand things like business models and eyeballs and ad rates and pie pieces – all terms, by the way, the congloms are using in our current negotiations about new media – but that doesn’t make me feel any better about the fact that because I love my show and want to stay on it, I have to make less than I would somewhere else.

Creatively, there is no more “stigma” about working in cable. It’s not a place where talent goes to die, it’s a place where it can be reborn, rejuvenated, discovered. Old, young, we’re all doing it. And the cable nets are some of the most profitable divisions of their corporations. Mostly because they pay less for what they get. Are you going to tell me that The Closer or Monk or Battlestar Gallactica aren’t as good (or better) than most of the things on “real” TV these days? Seen any awards shows lately?

I’m not bringing this up now to complain. What’s done is done and I have to live by those rules. Which is why what I’m experiencing on cable right now, 20-odd years after the deal was negotiated, suddenly feels so relevant. And I’m hoping it can be used as a cautionary tale for what’s to become of us in new media. Toeholds are crucial right now. We’ve got to get our collective foot in the door. But the most important thing we can do is remind our leadership to keep revisiting the gains they are trying to achieve for us this time around. Revisit them three years from now. Six years from now. Nine years from now. And remind ourselves that it’s okay to do so.

I think we’re all forward thinking enough to realize that transparency, the ability to access important financial information from the companies that our negotiators are trying hard to work into this current contract, is the key to a fair and equitable future for us in new media. But it’s just the opening of the door. Our fight for fairness must continue long after we go back to work. Now don’t go calling me strike-happy. Call me negotiationally inclined. I just keep looking at my green envelope, wondering what would have been inside of it if the WGA leadership over the past 20 years had been more negotiationally inclined as well.

Sometimes peace is born from struggle. And sometimes resentment is born from compliance. There is nothing wrong with wanting a fair share of something that you have helped build. And there’s nothing wrong with revisiting a contract every three years, especially when there is a changing marketplace involved. Not making any gains for the sake of peace is the same as sealing up a pot of water and turning the flame on low. Eventually something’s gonna blow. (Like the size of my check, for example.)

This is what we should all be trying to instill in younger writers, the ability to take their livelihoods into their own hands. To stand up and believe in themselves and what they do instead of taking the easy offer just so the boat doesn’t get rocked. To live in an era of fair, not fear. And I hope that the legacy we leave for them in new media will be better than the one I am living with in basic cable (and DVD) today. That legacy starts with this contract, but doesn’t end here. I’m not afraid of the future. It’s the past I wish I could change.

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