How to Think Like a Development Exec
(Even if you don’t want to)
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Without further ado…
The Creative Membrane
For many years in TV & Film, there existed a membrane between each of the roles and responsibilities on any given production.
Execs worried about audience, brand and marketing
Writers focused on character, story arcs and season resolutions
Directors communicated their creative vision to their department heads
Actors sought to internalize character motivation and perspective
Producers concerned themselves with packaging, budgeting and keeping everyone on schedule
Were there exceptions to the rule?
Of course. Multi-hyphenates have been around since the early days of film. But for the most part, many modern professionals have taken pride in being specialists; experts in one discipline that they do really well.
This separation of powers worked for a long, long time. Actors kept acting, Directors kept directing and Executives kept executiving.
My Editor: “That’s not a word, Jon.”
Me: “What are you, the Word Police?”
But if you’ve been paying attention to, well, anything, you know things have changed.
Peak TV is over. The Streaming Wars are over. People are expected to do more with less.
Constrained budgets and renewed focus on efficiency means Creative roles are fundamentally changing as we enter this new epoch.
I know that facing an uncertain future can be immensely scary, but anyone with a cursory understanding of human nature knows that crisis always breeds opportunity, and in this time of crisis, I’m here to tell you that opportunities abound, if only you know how to position yourself.
In this episode:
👨💻 Why you can’t “just be a writer” anymore.
🧠 The brain-saving benefits of being a generalist.
💸 Why big crews and big budgets may actually be a creative hindrance.
🎬 Why all writers need to try their hand at directing and editing.
🛠️ Producer-specific skills that any Creative can use.
🧐 How thinking like a Development Executive can improve your storytelling.
This is a post focused on creative lessons you can learn by adopting generalism. I plan to devote a separate post to helping creatives understand the business side of show business, so make sure you’re subscribed for that:
The Ties that Bind Us
If you’ve worked in film / TV / commercials, you know the structure of a film production. Specialized departments exist for every conceivable need a production might have: Costume, makeup, art department, construction, and so on.
There is a clear delineation of responsibilities between departments, which means a props person doesn’t have to worry about fake trees - that’s the job of the greens department. This isn’t just production culture. It’s often codified in union rule books and studio operating manuals alike.
When I was working in production, I remember working a commercial shooting on a vacant desert highway. There was equipment everywhere, and when someone shouted “car!” crew members scrambled to remove gear from the road. Being a helpful but naive PA, I grabbed a nearby camera case and moved it to the side of the road 5 feet away.
A second later, I heard someone barking at me:
“Who told you to fucking touch that?”
-Someone from Camera department
Lesson learned: If you are not in the camera department, you do not touch camera gear, even if it is at risk of being destroyed by an oncoming Ford Fiesta.
This structure of course has its benefits.
An interconnected web of collaborative creatives means everyone has something to offer someone else.
Film directors work with different departments to establish the look and feel of the production. They don’t have to think about the color of drapes in a living room set, they just communicate their vision to the production designer / art director and approve their choices. This (ideally) means less cognitive load for the director so they can apply their creativity elsewhere.
In TV, writers coming up through a culture of peak TV have grown accustomed to sizable budgets and until now have been insulated from having to think about anything other than character and story. The specialist nature of things led to rich character depth and profound stories, AKA “Peak TV.”
Other benefits conferred:
Clear division of responsibility
Clearly defined roles means reduced confusion over responsibility for this or that aspect of production.
Empowered Creatives
This separation of powers fosters a collaborative environment where each department feels empowered to meaningfully contribute according to their specialization.
Deep knowledge
This specialization means individuals working in separate departments have deep knowledge of the craft of that department. They know specific, important things so that directors/writers/producers don’t have to.
Bye-bye context switching
Being an independent filmmaker is invigorating and fulfilling, but ask anyone who’s done it and they’ll likely tell you just how hard it is too. Part of that difficulty lies in the concept of context switching: Basically, the more you try to do, the less you actually do well. By assigning specialized roles on a set, creatives have to do less context switching to get the same amount of work done.
The Binds that Tie Us
But it’s not all Glenfiddich and Nobu.
As freeing (and cushy) as a specialist approach feels, counterintuitively, it also has the power to stifle creativity and tie us down.
Being a specialist is enticing, but there are drawbacks hidden within the “doing one thing really well” model:
By definition, a specialist on a big budget project loses touch with individual aspects of the shoot. There’s something visceral about holding the camera or performing the take yourself that you lose when you’re watching a monitor in video village.
Likewise, the more specialists there are, the larger the crew, and the less intimate the relationships are among all crewmembers. There is a limit to the number of people in a single group that can maintain stable relationships (150 - Dunbar’s Number), and it’s no surprise that film crews top out around double that number.
Obviously, these crews are only able exceed Dunbar’s Number because of the hierarchical nature of film crews. Certain crew members will rarely interact with people from other departments and instead report directly to their department head. I’d venture to guess that if you mapped the relationships on a film or TV set, the one-to-one, all-at-the-same-time relationships would almost never exceed 80 or 100.
The Sweat Act 🥵
Back in October of 2024 (what a time to be alive),
and published a Martini Shot episode describing something called a “Sweat Act.” Essentially, Rob was describing what it’s like to be a multi-hyphenate: Director-Actor-Editor, Writer-Director-Sound Engineer, etc.“You can’t move to Hollywood and do only one thing anymore.”
-Rob Long
Contrast this with the 80’s and 90’s, when - even within TV comedy writing - there existed specializations. Rob cites the example of the writer who specified that he’s “a story guy, not a joke guy.” For TV writers at least, this was a wonderful time to be working in Hollywood.
Is it fair that Rob got his start as a staff writer within 10 months of moving to LA, despite having zero writing experience, when I spent the better part of a decade attempting the same and I barely made a dent in the goal? No. Am I bitter about it? Maybe.
But that’s beside the point. The point, Rob argues, is that things have changed, and in 2025, you either adapt or you fall behind.
The Perks of Being a Generalist
Apart from being a necessary adaptation to the current industry climate, there are benefits to adopting a generalist mindset.
Perhaps the most obvious benefit of being a storytelling generalist is that it expands the number of opportunities available to you. In times when work is scarce, being a producer-slash-editor allows you to apply for roles as a producer, roles as an editor and roles as a producer-editor (or “Preditor” as some people call it, but I reserve that designation for the alien assassin).
This consolidated role isn’t just for small studios. Even behemoths like Disney are now hiring Preditors:
Beyond immediate professional pursuits, If you’re looking to participate in the creator economy, being a multi-hyphenate is a way to start producing material quickly.
Just ask Drew Talbert, who produces Bistro Huddy on TikTok and simultaneously works as a writer, director, producer, editor and wardrobe specialist on the show.
Or - if you’re more desperate - ask me.
Since starting to produce sketch comedy for LoFi, I’ve been at times: Actor, Writer, Producer, Director, Editor, Motion Graphics Editor, VFX Artist, Colorist, Sound Engineer, Camera Operator and Marketing Department.
Had I waited to find the right people for any of these roles, it’s doubtful I would have gotten started at all.
BTW if you need help with any of that stuff, message me and I’m happy to assist your creative endeavor.
Another rewarding aspect of being a generalist is the creative control that it affords. If you’re the writer / director of a small project with one or two other creatives, the execution of your vision is entirely up to you.
This also means that you have no one but yourself to blame when something turns out shitty, but for my money, that’s kind of an exhilarating risk.
If these reasons alone aren’t enough to motivate you to adopt a generalist mindset, then consider the following:
People who learn new skills are at far lower risk of cognitive decline. If being a generalist means learning new things (it definitely does), then doing so can literally save your brain.
In addition to personal benefits, doing other jobs gives you valuable perspective and an appreciation of the work being done by others. And as we all know, empathy is the cornerstone of being a great leader.
The Triad of Visual Storytelling
What’s more: Performing other roles on a set can improve your skills in your core discipline, which in turn improves the finished product. If not for yourself, be a generalist for the sake of your movie.
In order to fully wrap ones head around the art of producing entertainment (and doing it well), I believe Creatives have to embrace a triad of three central creative roles:
Writer
Director
Editor
A writer conceives of story and character, a director turns a script into scenes and sequences, and an editor cuts these scenes and sequences together into the finished product.
It’s been said that if a project is a meal, the writer comes up with the recipe, the director buys the ingredients and the editor prepares the dish.
All three of these things are equally important, and anyone who says otherwise has never sat in an editing room without the proper coverage or stared at a blank page or wrangled talent on set while trying to shoot 10 pages in a single day.
Doing all three of these things will make you appreciate the skill that goes into each one. But more importantly, doing each of these will make you stronger at the others.
A director who knows how to edit will always understand the coverage she needs.
A writer who knows how to direct will always understand the beats that - while they may work on the page - probably won’t work on the day.
And an editor who knows how to write and direct will be able to cut together a scene that was never in the script but improves the story as a whole.
If you want to be a really good writer, I believe it’s crucial for you to try your hand at directing and editing. Worst case: You gain a deeper appreciation of how the work is done, and you potentially gain greater respect from your crew.
But apart from these, there are other roles you should gain a deeper understanding of, not just to grow as a leader, but to better your own creative pursuits.
Think Like a Film Producer
Producers are the glue that holds a production together. They do way more than just fundraise (or at least, they should) and a great producer is worth her weight in Bitcoin.
They are responsible for moving the ball down the field, so to speak, so that writers, directors and other creatives can do the creative stuff they do best.
Still, producers can be some of the most creative minds on a film set. They have to think creatively about where the money comes from, sure, but also how to attach name talent, how to package a project to attract a streamer, how to budget and schedule and insulate creative talent from the real world so that they can continue building the world of their story.
Producers are a project’s biggest champion, its most steadfast defender, its most sober designated driver.
Lesson: Think about the how and why, not just the what.
No matter how good a writer’s script or director’s vision is, it’s almost never enough to get a project off the ground. In order to do that, you need a good producer to lay out a clear plan of action and execute on that plan. A shooting schedule is just the start. Producers also have to think about stuff like pre-sales, equity financing and tax credits.
Having a plan for your creative career means a couple things:
It means thinking about how to get your projects made, even if you don’t have a great producer at your side. Think about ways to make the project more cheaply or quickly or at a different scale. If you’ve read me before, you’ll know I’m big on making what I call a Minimum Viable Creation to serve as a proof of concept or to test in front of audiences. Get creative about the work and understand that taking a small, iterative approach now does not preclude a big swing later.
It’s also important to understand why you make the things you make. You absolutely can and should have passion projects that are just for you. Work on them because you want to work on them; that’s the only reason you need. But for a portion of the stuff you’re writing / producing, you should be considering: “Who is this for? What is this for?” Is a pilot meant to be a sample to try and get staffed? Is it a project to try and sell? The way you write the pilot should vary depending on your answer. Thinking creatively about a project doesn’t mean you can’t also think strategically about it.
Lesson: Money matters
When times are lean, no one can afford to ignore where the money is coming from, Jon says, having not earned a salary for the past 2 full years.
Writers, and especially early-career writers, don’t like thinking about the business side of show business, but now that our careers have become deeply entangled with the financial decisions of major streamers, the money side of things is impossible to ignore.
I’m going to do a deeper dive into the business side of things very soon, so make sure you’re subscribed for that…
…but for now I’ll just say that if a producer doesn’t understand budgeting, financing and equity deals, they won’t get very far. And if you’re writer, just because you’re not an expert at budgeting doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have a ballpark of a script’s budget.
Hint: An interpersonal drama that takes place in one room with two characters does not cost the same amount as a VFX-heavy sci-fi rock opera that takes place on the moon and also in the script it specifies that you have to shoot on the actual moon.
This skill is definitely handy when you’re making your projects yourself, such as what I’ve been doing at LoFi. Given, these projects tend to be between 30 and 90 seconds, but the point is even more prescient for larger projects.
Lesson: Persistence pays (but know when to cut your losses)
Producers can be dogged in the face of overwhelming odds. This is the only way that projects get made, and it takes a kind of persistence that seems superhuman to us mere mortals. Seasoned producers know that it takes stamina and sometimes years of doors being slammed in your face to turn a “no” into a “maybe” and then turn that maybe into a “hell yes.” Don’t believe me? Just read
series on how it took 8 years working on a docu-series project before it was just recently nominated for an Emmy.In your creative career, there will be hurdles and setbacks that you have to successfully navigate if you really really want what’s on the other side. This takes perseverance, but it also takes the wisdom to know when to call it quits. Even the best producers have to reach this conclusion at one point or another.
Sometimes the market won’t support a project. Sometimes the pieces that you’ve put together so carefully fall apart.
And sometimes the timing just isn’t right.
The most inspiring producers I know - no matter how beaten down they get in pursuing a project - when they reach that point, never see this as a “no.” They see it as a “not now,” leaving the door open for the future.
Think Like a TV Development Exec
Writers ridicule their notes (almost universally).
Creatives of all stripes demonize them as creative wannabes who are just there to destroy the artistic integrity of every project that comes across their desk.
Sometimes, they’re outright ignored for the work they do.
People in creative development are the recipients of a lot of hostility, and I believe most of that hostility is unearned.
Are there higher-ups who deserve the blame foisted upon them? Of course.
But for every one of those people, there are countless foot soldiers who find themselves sandwiched between a restrictive mandate from the studio and creatives who resent every single note they’re given.
I’ve spoken with dozens - if not hundreds - of these folks in my travels. Most of them genuinely love TV and movies. They are passionate about the creative process and want to nurture and support creative talent in whatever way they can.
Where many of my former colleagues in writers’ rooms see them as - at best - a necessary evil and - at worst - uncreative nuisances, I see development execs as a critical part of the process of making film and television.
The best ones give notes that aren’t just tolerable; they’re additive. They point out inconsistencies in character or moments that could use elevation. But most importantly, they are the ambassadors between creatives and the audiences those creatives are supposed to serve.
Lesson: Understand your audience
I’ve definitely been in writers’ rooms where the writers were more interested in what they had to say than in entertaining an audience. Writers - even for TV - should never kowtow to an audience’s whims, but there is a big difference between pandering and writing for the audience’s entertainment.
On multiple occasions, I’ve witnessed TV writers adding inside jokes to their scripts that only other TV writers would get. I bristle at this practice. It feels bizarrely self-serving and out-of-touch. It would be like me adding an illustration of my dogs in this Substack just because they’re the cutest little shmoopey-wupples in the—
Understanding an audience means trying to empathize with people who you don’t know and will likely never know personally. This is why creative executives exist; to be the spokespeople for the end user of the “product” of television.
But in this new epoch, writers should not grow reliant on these audience ambassadors, and instead learn to connect directly with audiences.
Social and UGC platforms like YouTube provide the easiest means of doing so. There, Creators can connect directly with their audience in real time and review granular data on what made them stick around to watch their project.
But beyond data analysis, thinking like a member of your audience gives you a new perspective to consider when writing. And it’s never a bad thing to examine your writing through fresh eyes.
Lesson: Recognize talent in all its forms
The best creative execs are able to be chameleons. Even if a script doesn’t resonate with their tastes, they recognize the talent that went into making it. This recognition of quality writing transcends preference and instead focuses on the markers of a good story: Stakes, drive, character, etc.
The ability to identify talent independent of taste is rare among writers. This is evident in the notes that I occasionally receive from established writers on my own writing. More often than I expected, I’d get pitches on how to bring the story / tone more in line with that writer’s tastes as opposed to amplifying what makes the pilot uniquely me (or, considering my writing partner, uniquely “us”).
Recognizing talent has many benefits for writers, including knowing who will give you the best script notes, who to staff or collaborate with and - in the case of writers who also want to produce - which talent to foster and bring into your orbit.
I pride myself on having developed a highly-attuned sniffer for creative talent and I’ve put it to good use in developing content for LoFi. For pitches from other writers, I’m careful to not dismiss an idea too hastily if that idea doesn’t jive with my creative style. Everyone has something to offer and some of our best performing videos on the channel weren’t necessarily in my comedic voice, but I recognized they had the markers of a good sketch, so we made them anyway.
On Being a Generalist
Generalists are having a moment right now. In the corporate world, generalists who can wear multiple hats are getting promoted while specialists are being shown the door. In entertainment, multi-hyphenates have far better prospects than their specialist colleagues. Sure: Experienced, established specialists are still doing what they do best, but for early-career creatives, the picture is flipped, and being a Jack of all trades will give you the best odds in the current M&E landscape.
But more broadly, being a generalist can extend your network, expand your opportunities and save your brain from the onset of cognitive decline.
Yes, being a 'sweat act' means more work for you. But it also means you're never waiting for permission to make your next move.
As that old membrane between creative roles continues to dissolve, the writers who thrive will be the ones who learn to do way more than write.
And that’s something we can all celebrate.
Stay tuned,
Jon
What I’m Reading Right Now
wrote a wonderful breakdown of how he raised money for his feature film The Mill. I requested a blow-by-blow and Sean delivered. Thank you Sean! back at it again with another banger citing Creator Camp and Dhar Mann. Obviously very close to my heart
Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging by Sebastian Junger. I consumed this (audio)book in basically 3 sittings, and it’s shifted my perspective on the concept of community.
talks about building a cinema club and fools us with AI-generated movie titles / images. in partnership with wrote a fascinating look into YouTube promoting shows on its platforms for honest-to-god Emmys.
There's so much to talk about here, but I especially love your breakdown of the "triad of visual storytelling" - writing, directing, and editing. I desperately wish more filmmakers of all kinds understood how learning each of these skills benefits the others, even (maybe especially?) if you don't always function in that role. So critical. Especially in the creative/economic landscape we are heading into.