As a former comedy agent at UTA and WME, Priyanka Mattoo — whose memoir will be published by Knopf this year — represented numerous big-name writers and performers before leaving to start a TV-production company with Jack Black. Now, she writes and directs, but she still encounters a tidal wave of comedy hopefuls looking for the advice, information, and pep talks that only a former agent can provide. In show business, they say that it’s all about who you know. Well, you’re in luck, because now you know Priyanka!
I’ve been a writer and showrunner since the early ’90s, and for most of my career, everyone in the room kind of looked like me: white with similar bios and credentials. Obviously, that’s changing, for the better. That said, I know it must be difficult for women and minorities to feel comfortable as they enter traditional comedy writing rooms … This is all new territory, and I feel like I’m working off an outdated playbook. I’m nervous about doing this all wrong, so I guess my question is: How can I be a better boss and mentor to new hires from diverse backgrounds?
I’m so glad to answer this question, because I know how many Establishment showrunners are in the same spot — well meaning and a little puzzled about where to start — and I appreciate your self-awareness about the constitution of your peer group. I had to laugh a little when I put this question to the internet and the first round of good-boss nominations were three Matts who went to Ivies — two of whom I already know and a third I should have but somehow don’t.
TV production is a bullet train driven by some of the most wildly anxious humans in the world, and it’s the strangest thing that you’re all expected to be creative geniuses while simultaneously managing hundreds of people, in addition to your own emotions and busy lives. I understand how you can both support a demographic shift and feel stressed about getting it “right,” but I have faith you can do it, and it should not require anything drastic, just a wholehearted commitment to being the most curious, open version of yourself that you can be. The outdated playbook is, of course, best left behind, and now’s your opportunity to create a better one.
Chances are that your first jobs were trial-by-fire situations with distant and/or rage-filled leadership, and if you made it through, you earned the stripes to level up. But we’re not doing that anymore — not just because of lawsuits or optics, but because you don’t want to be a distant, rage-filled leader. You want to be better than that. It might be helpful to think deeply about the environments you came from professionally and personally and tap into your younger self. What do you want to hold onto from those jobs? What behavior do you want to eradicate? What motivated and discouraged you in those early rooms? How do you want people to feel (and talk) about your workplace? I understand you probably want to be liked, but you can’t control that. All you can do is lead with integrity and kindness and make room for your colleagues’ contributions and concerns in a meaningful way.
I’ve heard too many stories from talented young writers about room hierarchies and cliques — about feeling like they had to earn the right to speak up, or even being pulled aside to be told they shouldn’t, and being made to feel stupid or rude when they do. But diversity in the room isn’t just about a pleasing visual, it’s about actually insisting they speak, listening to what they say, and incorporating their ideas. “If I’m on a show, I’m looking to expand the show’s brain. I need their points of view,” says Anthony King, showrunner of Hulu’s Woke, who was nominated as a “10/10 white man” by one of his former writers, Kyra Jones. And you’re not going to get those points of view by making them stay quiet. Matt Selman, a universally beloved boss who has run The Simpsons through an astonishing 27 years of culture shifts, agrees; he says he sets out to make young writers comfortable from day one: “I like to award grace to bad pitches — to show new writers there’s going to be a lot of them before they get good. It’s part of the process. And then people chill out a little bit and we start to get the good stuff. It leads to a much funnier room if no one is shaming people for saying something they consider dumb.”
The unspoken rules about who is allowed to talk might have flown in the lockstep, monochromatic rooms of yore, but you need a variety of voices and stories for a better show, says Matt Hubbard, who currently co-runs Apple TV+’s Loot. “The shows do better — they’re richer and more successful if you have a room that reflects America,” he says. “Because other times … Well, you watch some shows, and you can just see the seven 53-year-old-guys running it.” He takes a moment to marvel about an attempt, on Loot, to saddle one character with something embarrassing — his initial pitch was that she secretly loves video games. But the writer April Korto Quioh pitched one of her own internal struggles as a young Black woman: her devotion to Taylor Swift. “I would never in a million years have been able to pitch something that specific and funny. I needed her perspective,” says Hubbard. He chuckles at where the joke ended up. “This was before the Eras tour,” he adds.
Think about how different your first work experience might have been if you were telegraphed the messages “We need you” and “We are all bumbling through this together.” Would it have made you less effective or simply saved you the debilitating stress that still haunts you today? This messaging will allow some of the underlings who might not have long family histories in TV writing breathe a little easier. King remembers his first day running Woke; he was the only white person in the room and recalls introducing himself: “My job is to be helpful to what you’re trying to do,” he told the staff. “As the only white person here, I want you all to talk, while I just listen — let’s get to all the things I don’t even know about.” One writer teased him about this “white-man speech,” which, he says, was fair. But his self-awareness set the tone for a warm and well-run room. It’s similar for Hubbard’s staff on Loot: “He lets all the people of color in the room make fun of him because his favorite snack is one dry, unbuttered slice of Wonder bread,” explains Quioh. “He also gave me tons of time off, no questions asked, when my dad was sick, but the bread is my favorite.”
The wonderful thing about a learning process is you get to learn. You won’t always know the right thing to say. You will get comfortable with being uncomfortable. You will make a billion mistakes, and as long as you ask questions, own up to being human, and get used to apologizing, it won’t matter long-term — unless you are a racist or criminal, but I don’t think you’d be asking this question if you were.
There is no point in trying to sugarcoat the fact that you and your peers have been in charge for a long time and likely will continue to be while the pipeline of showrunners slowly diversifies. As King puts it, “There’s obviously been a big push for diversity in these rooms, and getting everyone to showrunner level is taking some time. Mid/upper-level writers from underrepresented backgrounds are generally employed. And now the lower levels are populated, but those writers can end up feeling tokenized if they’re not truly welcomed and supported.” The antidote is to find a path forward that allows you to execute the show you’re being asked to execute, while also nurturing and promoting a variety of writers under you so that they, too, can lead someday. Hopefully, the gains from the WGA agreement will rebuild the showrunner pipeline as well. Hubbard makes another important point about show sales in the near future: “We are in a pretty intense contraction, and I am worried that it will lead to buyers leaning on the people who have always been in power.” But we aren’t going to let the business stagnate while the studios figure out what on earth they’re buying, so showrunners need to figure out a way to move their craft forward.
Of course, all of this listening and learning won’t be without conflict. This next year in TV is going to be an exceptionally weird one. Buyers are running around, unsure what they want to make or keep and shouting that they only want “undeniable” shows — a term thrown around a lot this season. Stress levels will be high. You’re going to be in positions where you have to get a mountain of work done under immense pressure, and everyone on your team might not jump immediately to execute your wishes. When you’re trying to achieve something and feel unsupported, maybe take a second to listen to the chorus. “You sometimes have to think, Stop — I’m getting enough feedback here that something is wrong,” Hubbard says about pushback.
Work probably felt a lot smoother for you when you were surrounded by people who remind you of yourself. But if you approach conflict, big and small, with concern and self-awareness, it should unify rather than scatter the room. Connect the dots between a showrunner terrified he can’t pull this off and the writers terrified their first job might be their last. Try responding to anything you consider questionable behavior with a genuine “Are you okay?,” because you might learn that they’re not — and even if they are, people will feel supported by your concern. And when you’re stuck in a battle in which you feel like you’re not getting a desired outcome, ask yourself if you’re being annoying and then maybe stop talking and pay attention to what they think the problem is. Sometimes, just saying I know I’m being annoying, but we do have to XYZ might be the magic words that get people to help you meet your goals, instead of digging into a fight where you have to stifle them with the blunt instrument of your seniority.
Give your writers credit. Talk about them like they’re the future of the business, because they are. Besides feeling terrific, the generosity and enthusiasm will look good on you, and you’ll get to participate in that future.
You haven’t mentioned this part, but I’ll bring it up here because I’ve heard it “joked” about, and I think it’s worth clarifying: Anyone who gets in the room based on a good writing sample is trying to work. They are not focused on taking you down personally. “I know one showrunner didn’t hire me because she thought I’d get her canceled,” says Jones. “And I thought, Well, just don’t be racist. Culture is always evolving — this isn’t a new thing. Now you have to be creative instead of relying on tropes.” On this topic, Selman has a message for his peer group: “You can be funny with your staff in a way that is playful, and everything will be fine. Their primary goal is to help you, and you’re there to be helped by them and hopefully teach them.” Hubbard agrees: “If you’re looking at people as though they’re there to undermine you, you’re not thinking about it right. They desperately want to help you, and they don’t know how to help you, so you should be directing the conversation in ways where this can be achieved. If you can’t achieve it, that’s not their fault, that’s a failure of leadership.”
Once you’ve galvanized the team, everyone trusts and respects each other, and the task doesn’t feel so herculean because you’re allowing people into the process (you can do this!), look to the future. When the show is done, on hiatus, or over a meal sometime, hear out their original ideas. “Undeniable” TV seems to be code for “TV from the same ten showrunners,” so maybe offer to serve as a producer to pave the way for your team’s original pitches. Talk them through some bad ones to get to the good. Heck, have them write or co-write the ideas you don’t have the time or energy to write. You hired these people for their minds, so get their ideas in front of people who can give them money. Share your shine, your agency, and your relationships. Give your writers credit. Talk about them like they’re the future of the business, because they are. Besides feeling terrific, the generosity and enthusiasm will look good on you, and you’ll get to participate in that future.
But your growth won’t be limited to work. You can also be deliberate about the kind of person you want to be and the kind of planet you want to live on. The magic of a diverse staff is that it allows you to expand your world right there in one room. But even when you’re outside of it, try to seek out experiences other than the ones you’ve already had. I know how easily your world — it’s my world too — can shrink to the size of a postage stamp. Work, kids, sleep, a dinner out here and there, and decades fly by. But you’re no longer a scared 20-something kid being hazed by your nightmare boss. You are the boss, and you have everything you wanted back then. Enjoy it, appreciate it, share it. Explore things, travel, read fiction, nurture a hobby, make new friends. The richer your life, the less grumpy you’ll be at work (and home). The more you are able to connect with a broad swath of humanity, the more full your spirit will become. And you’ll have the energy to pay it all forward. The world will continue to change in ways you will never be able to predict, but you — in your 10/10-white-man years — will continue to grow and change with it.
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Priyanka Mattoo , 2024-02-06 16:00:10
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