Expanding Family Types

In some of the preceding examples, there is both a related-by-blood family and an extended workplace family. In The Good Wife, Alicia Florrick’s troubled husband and their two kids are the “home” family, and Alicia’s colleagues at the law firm comprise her “other” family (see examples of how later).

Some series are about extended families: Once Upon a Time, Two and a Half Men, Game of Thrones, Mad Men, Spartacus, The West Wing, and Sons of Anarchy.

Other series focus on colleagues in the workplace that interact as a family unit might, encompassing the dynamics of authority figures (mom and dad), siblings (sibling rivalries and bonding), spouses, wise elders (grandparents), prodigal sons and daughters, black sheep outcasts, and some characters act like children: from tantrum-prone toddlers to rebellious teenagers.

Family dynamics outside of “normal” (related by birth) family units are often based on the same psychological and logistical power dynamics as a “typical” American family. In some cases, friendships forged at work, school, and at play can be even more intense than a traditional family bond because as the old adage goes, you choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family.

Blended and nontraditional families are much more pervasive now. Divorce is extremely common these days. Marriage tends to occur later in life for many—if at all. Life moves faster now and most people spend more time with their coworkers than they do at home with their own families.

With such an emphasis outside the home, people naturally gravitate toward coworkers and friends who fulfill their psychological and emotional needs. Consequently, seeking approval from your boss might supplant seeking the approval of your parent(s)—and the former comes with a paycheck for added validation.

Confiding in your colleagues and/or best friends may be preferable to confiding in your sibling, cousin, or aunt and uncle. Our friends and coworkers seem to “get” us better than our immediate relatives anyway—and probably with far less judgment because we share less backstory (aka “baggage”) with our newer friends and acquaintances. We’re more likely to edit out some of the familial details to present a more ideal version of ourselves. Our actual family members, on the other hand, know us all too well—often choosing to dwell on our old patterns instead of seeing us as we are now.

However, all “family” members, including friends and colleagues, can be adept at “pushing each other’s [psychological] buttons.” The better someone knows you, the more familiar they are with your weaknesses and vulnerabilities. In other words, the people who love you most, also know how to hurt you the most. Trust in close relationships is built out of respect for these boundaries. When breached, all relationships need to go through the negotiation process of forgiveness, making amends, and wiping the slate clean (unlikely) or holding a grudge (more human).

Intensifying Family Dynamics

All familial relationships are rife with conflicting allegiances and agendas. Household finances are one of the biggest stresses in families. For many men, the ability to bring home a paycheck is still hardwired into their psyche, while at the same time, women are increasingly “leaning in” and not only supporting their families, but also out-earning their husbands—which can create new friction at home. These power dynamics influence the choices characters make in order to feel worthy of love, respect, and validation from season to season.

Many of these choices are pragmatic concerns of basic survival. For example, this is how Walter White got into the meth trade at the outset of Breaking Bad: he had a terminal cancer diagnosis, mounting debt, and a pregnant wife, Skyler (Anna Gunn). Walt’s initial choices were to provide for his family in his absence. However, as Breaking Bad nears its series finale, Walt has more money than he and Skyler know what to do with—they’re filthy rich. But it’s dirty money and Walt is on a collision course with the police, the DEA, and a growing list of enemies. Breaking Bad began with Walt’s (misguided) good intentions as he faced his own mortality. There is no question in my mind that this series will end in tragedy for Walt. His megalomania has alienated everyone who once loved and cared about him. Showrunner Vince Gilligan set out to create a series about a Mr. Chips character who turns into Scarface by the end. And like Tony Montana (played by Al Pacino), chances are that Walter White will die alone.

Examining TV Families

Consider these examples of family dynamics from several TV series, with their workplace role juxtaposed against what their more traditional role might be within an actual family:

Defining Character by Familial Role

Family dynamics are especially useful when assembling an ensemble cast. It’s not that you’ll need to cover every gender, age, or familial role. But it is helpful to determine how each character might relate to one another in both positive and negative ways. Police detective partners, even if both heterosexual and male, will invariably relate to each other as fighting spouses at times. Professional colleagues might jockey for position to impress the boss, and thus struggle through the jealousies of sibling rivalry.

Notice how age and gender is not always the main determining factor of family dynamics. In season 3 of The Walking Dead after patriarch Rick Grimes’ (Andrew Lincoln) wife, Lori (Sarah Wayne Callies), dies in childbirth, their prepubescent son, Carl (Chandler Riggs), is forced to grow up fast. He becomes so confident with his marksmanship and fearless zombie killing skills that he evolves from innocent child to resourceful survivalist adult in a matter of months. And when his father, Rick, starts hallucinating (seeing the ghost of his late wife) and losing his sanity, it’s Carl who (temporarily) emerges as the patriarch of the prison group until Rick can come to his senses and lead again. This transfer of power occurred when the elder leaders were occupied elsewhere—with Daryl Dixon (Norman Reedus) trying to rein in his loose cannon brother Merle (Michael Rooker) and Hershel Greene (Scott Wilson) dealing with his impaired.

In later episodes, Andrea (Laurie Holden) seeks normalcy and traditional community life by moving to the “secure” township of Woodbury. The patriarch of the town is the Governor (David Morrissey). As Andrea and the Governor become romantic partners, she essentially becomes the First Lady of Woodbury (its matriarch). Meanwhile, outside Woodbury and inside the prison compound, Carol Peletier (Melissa McBride) and the Greene sisters move into matriarchal roles. Glenn (Steven Yeun) and Maggie Greene (Lauren Cohan) become “spouses.” While Beth Greene (Emily Kinney) and Carol tend to Rick’s new baby as new mommy figures. Toward the end of the season, Michonne (Danai Gurira) returns to the prison and bonds with Carl as his new maternal/big sister protector figure.

When populating your series or creating guest characters for a particular episode, ask yourself not only who is this new character, but also, how will the arrival of this new character impact your regular characters?

All relationships are like mirrors, and each new person we encounter reflects our sense of self right back to us. They can also remind us of someone else either in appearance, attitude, or how he/she makes us feel. This causes characters to project their past onto new individuals—perhaps overreacting to a quasi-judgmental remark that (usually subconsciously) reminds them of a judgmental parent.

The sub-subtext of virtually any scene is familial power dynamics, psychological wounds from the past, and subtle movements that reaffirm clan position. The show’s family may spend most of its time in a house, office, police precinct, hospital, prison, or any other arenas where people rely on each other, challenge each other, learn, struggle, and, hopefully, mature.

NL: My first question has to do with the fact that your series are so addictive. They’re compulsively watchable, and I believe it stems from your characters. So, in addition to the brilliant casting, what do you think is so magnetic about your characters? Because all shows have characters, but yours have that extra something that compels us to tune in every week. Do you have any theories as to why?

SR: When I wrote Grey’s, it was the first television project I had ever worked on, so I wrote it as if I was writing in my diary. It felt very personal. I was very surprised to discover that people responded to these characters in this way. What I learned is that as long as I’m writing as if it’s personal, as long as these characters are alive to me—that I dream about them—then those characters remain compelling for an audience. I don’t know why that is. I just know that I have to make sure that they feel alive to me and that what’s happening to them feels real and not like television.

NL: Right. I think that is so true. And part of that premise is that they’re flawed. You show all their vulnerabilities and their fears and their insecurities. You put them under a microscope. So, I’m wondering when you’re conceiving them do you picture them in your mind physically or from the inside out? What were your inspirations for Meredith Grey (Ellen Pompeo) or Olivia Pope (Kerry Washington)?

SR: I think I pictured them from the inside out. There was no physical type. Generally, my scripts come without physical descriptions for the characters at all, which I think is important. I feel like I have an idea of what my characters are and then actors come in and read for the role. With every actor who sits down and reads, my idea of who that character is changes. I wonder is this person the idea that’s right or is the next guy the idea that’s right? Or, do we keep going until we find the person for whom I think, “Well, they add something fantastic and that fantastic something is perfect for what I’m thinking.”

NL: One of the recurring themes in each of your shows seems to be loners or rogues who come together with a team and form this extended family. There’s even a line from Grey’s and, I think, in all three shows that I’ve watched that says, “I need you to be my somebody.” I know there was one about putting down an emergency contact on a form. They do form these metaphorical families, and the theory of this chapter is that there’s these archetypes: where there’s a mom and dad, sibling rivalries, and spoiled children. Do family dynamics come into play when you’re creating an ensemble?

SR: I’m actually creeped out that you’ve noticed that the characters have said that in all three shows because I’ve never noticed it before, and when you said, “It’s a group of rogues who have come together to form a family”— I was about to go, “No, they’re not,” but then I thought, “Oh, they are.” I’ve never thought of it that way. I’ve tried very hard not to examine it that much. I come from a really large family. I have five older brothers and sisters. I was always a quiet person and I spent a lot of time watching them and figuring out what the world was because of what my five older brothers and sisters were doing and saying and being. But, I never thought about it in terms of my writing because I feel like if I try to examine it too hard, I wouldn’t be able to do it anymore.

NL: Right. I just thought that Olivia is like the mom to everybody. She actually took in all these damaged people and then we discover that she’s damaged in her own way. And Miranda (Chandra Wilson) is that character in Grey’s.

SR: As is Meredith, who has also become the mother of a bunch of damaged people. I think the incarnations are different. I think Scandal is informed by Grey’s in a lot of ways, and it’s the show that I can examine the most because there’s a lot of me in Olivia Pope. In that being a showrunner and being Olivia Pope are not that different. For me, there’s something about the fact that Olivia has taken in all of these people that are damaged, and she fixes everybody’s problems. It’s a lot like being a showrunner.

NL: But, hopefully, you allow people to cry sometimes.

SR: Yes.

NL: Although what I also admire about your pilot is that you boldly state things up front that are etched in stone and then often by the end of the pilot, you’ve debunked everything. “Nobody ever cries, ever,” and then you see the vulnerability.

SR: Yeah, Olivia crying. That was important to me.

NL: In terms of point of view when you’re conceiving a show, I know Grey’s mainly uses Meredith’s voice-over. Although there were some episodes where it was somebody else.

SR: It does happen, but it is very rare.

NL: The one that I was watching last night was the episode of Grey’s with the shooter.

SR: That’s the episode that I’m most proud of having written.

NL: It’s so suspenseful when Miranda is underneath that bed and the killer’s feet are there. It’s such sharp writing because to me the best writing is always filled with so much suspense. So, with point of view, we began with Meredith who, even though she comes from a mother who was a famous surgeon, is insecure. In Private Practice, as in Scandal, you decided not to do the voice-over. And the Quinn (Katie Lowes) character is kind of the Meredith character in Scandal because she’s the new one coming in. Does the point of view for your show come to you pretty early, or is it once you’ve laid everything out on the canvas that you start to think about who is going to be the main point of view to unify everything?

SR: It’s interesting. For Grey’s, it was very clear to me that Meredith had to be our way in. Going into a world where we didn’t understand its rules. How do you do a medical show about surgery and make it accessible to an audience? That audience, when I was writing the pilot, was me—how do I make it accessible to me? I need somebody for whom the rules get explained on a regular basis who also feels the same fears and nervousness I would feel if dropped into that situation. To me, that’s why Meredith ended up being the narrator. With Scandal, it really was that I thought I had created an iconic character with Olivia Pope. She is somebody who everybody has heard of. Her name is on people’s lips and she fixes things. I needed somebody on the outside to come in and show us what that world was. It very quickly switched from Quinn’s point of view to Olivia’s point of view because Quinn clearly had secrets up the wazoo. For me, it was just making sure that we had a way into the world, so that you understood how powerful Olivia Pope was, and then having Quinn step back and letting it become Olivia’s world.

NL: Right. And, the advantage is that now everyone has a legitimate reason to explain to this new person how their world works because it’s an unusual kind of firm. “We’re attorneys, but we don’t prosecute or defend.” It’s a very organic way to naturally get a lot of exposition out that’s also filled with conflict because she’s overwhelmed by it, but also fascinated and drawn to it. Secrets and lies are a natural currency of all your shows, but especially Scandal. The big question that remains at the end of the season is, who is Quinn Perkins really? I didn’t see that coming, that there was something more about who she is. Then, that supersedes what was the overarching plotline about Amanda Tanner (Liza Weil). I don’t know if you would call it storytelling strategy, but when you’re breaking story and pulling out and revealing information and people are making discoveries—how are you making decisions about when you’re going to reveal things? Is it mathematical or do you say, “At the end of this midseason point or at the end of this season, I’m going to reveal all of this”? And then, reverse engineer it? I think a lot of people get overwhelmed by how they’re going to break it all down.

SR: I think it’s two things. Part of it is instinctive. I generally walk into the writers’ room at the beginning of the season and say, “Here’s how the season’s going to end.” And I pitch the end of the season. I don’t call it reverse engineering because it doesn’t work that way. Everyone knows where we’re going, so we work on finding a roadmap to get there. That roadmap is generally not super planned; it’s more instinctive. Things feel right; things don’t feel right. Amanda Tanner wasn’t necessarily supposed to die at all, but at a certain point, I was like, “Amanda Tanner should die today,” and we all went, “Yeah, that feels right.” There was a point in, I think it was, episode 3 or 4 where you have the guy giving details about the people who work at Pope & Associates, and we got to Quinn, and everyone was like, “What’s Quinn’s backstory, Shonda?” And, I said, “Quinn did not exist before 2008.” It wasn’t because of anything other than when I wrote the pilot, every time I got to the scene where Quinn is crying in the bathroom, the idea of Quinn telling her backstory felt weird. Plus, Quinn kept asking, “Why did she hire me? Why did she hire me?” So, to me, I thought, “Well, that’s a mystery.” That mystery became much more important as we headed toward the end of the season because Quinn Perkins didn’t exist before 2008.

NL: I read an article that with Grey’s Anatomy, you did all thirteen episodes before it started to air.

SR: We did thirteen episodes the first season but only aired nine. So the remaining episodes aired the second season. But we finished the thirteen episodes, and literally that Sunday after we wrapped production, the first show aired.

NL: What’s your barometer as a writer and a creator of a series when you’re essentially working in a vacuum? Is it just that you’re working from your gut?

SR: Yeah. What I try to stick to even now is how I answer these questions: “Am I into it? Am I compelled? Am I excited? Do I give a crap if anybody watches?” I remember saying with Betsy Beers [Executive Producer] regarding the first few episodes of Grey’s that “if nobody watches this show, that’s fine, we’ll just sell it out of the back of our car.” That’s how much we loved it. As opposed to feeling like, “It’s really important to me that other people watch.” I was so proud of what we’d done that I didn’t need the validation of the network. And that’s how I feel about Scandal. I was so excited by those first seven episodes that even if nobody had watched them, I still would have been like, “Some of the best work that I’ve done. I’m proud of that.”

NL: It’s terrific and, I think, groundbreaking for network television in that Kerry Washington is just so gorgeous and likeable walking into a room, but also so tough, initially, because she’s such a “gladiator in a suit” and she’s having an affair with the president of the United States (!)—a lot of things which would come under the category of “unsympathetic” or “not likeable.” And, then we start to see much more of her vulnerability as the show progresses. I think it’s in episode 4 that we actually understand the circumstances of her affair with President Fitz (Tony Goldwyn) in a completely different light. How important is it for the main character to be likeable?

SR: It’s fascinating because I get that note a lot. A lot. I sat in a room with an executive who is no longer with the network who basically said to me with regard to Meredith Grey that “nobody is going to like a woman who sleeps with a man the night before she’s supposed to start work. That makes her completely unlikeable—you should change that fact.” And, I thought, but that’s who the character is, it doesn’t change that fact. And then, I sat in the same room years later with somebody else who said, “Can Olivia not be having an affair with the President?” Someone else who is no longer with the network. And, I remember saying, “Olivia Pope’s going to have sex with the president in the Oval Office on his desk—on the Resolute desk—by episode 4. If you all can’t get behind that, then I don’t want to make this show.” And what I meant by that was I really like flawed characters, but I also feel very strongly that flawed people can be likeable. I feel like cable has shown that time and again—and the networks have been afraid to show that. I mean Dexter is a freakin’ serial killer, but we love him and we want to watch what he does next. I don’t think you have to be kind to be interesting. I think that especially with female characters people want that to be true. I feel like there’s something great about being unapologetic about who you are and being flawed and fucked up. It’s all those things that make TV worth writing, frankly, not just worth watching, but worth writing for a writer.

NL: What I tell my students about flawed characters is that they don’t have to be likeable, if we can see a vulnerability, we can connect to them. There’s a great Lily Tomlin quote I read recently where she said, “In private, we’re all misfits.” The idea that none of us is perfect. That we all make mistakes. To me, it all goes back to the first question I asked you which is why your characters are so magnetic. People watch TV and see that other people have problems and flaws.

SR: The idea that we’re going to watch perfect people live perfect lives perfectly that just makes me depressed. I don’t want to watch that. I always say Breaking Bad is my favorite example—that’s such a flawed world and I can’t get enough of it.

NL: Back to the family idea, there’s a Tolstoy quote that says, “Happy families are all alike and unhappy families are unhappy in their own way.” Arguably your ensembles are extended families, it seems that their unhappiness or their imperfections are what make them so fascinating.

SR: I’ve always said there is a sense for Meredith Grey that she’s the mother of these people. She’s always trying to keep everyone together. If you look at Olivia Pope in that way, as somebody who is trying to hold everyone together, there’s something there, too. There’s literally a quote in Private Practice at the beginning of season 2 or 3 that says, “Our family becomes your family.”

NL: That’s right, I wrote that down from the promo video that they made.

SR: We are, in fact, creating them as families. In that sense, we have family drama happening, and, in that sense, that’s interesting.

NL: I wrote down that tagline, and then I wrote, “At worst, dysfunctional and, at best, coming together as a team to solve problems.” Even the most dysfunctional family will come together when there’s a crisis, and it will bring out that strength and resolve in each person.

Now, you’ve forced me to examine it and now I’m not going to be able to write it anymore! (Laughs.)

NL: Two more questions. It seems like your A and B stories usually dovetail and there’s kind of a thematic, but the most polarizing question from my last book for movie screenwriters was about theme. Half said it’s everything and the other half said you should never consciously write about it. It seems in Grey’s with the use of voice-over that theme is pretty upfront. When you’re breaking story in the room—whether it’s a theme for a season or a theme for each episode—are you consciously thinking about it or is it more subliminal?

SR: It’s different for every show. It’s very interesting because people always say to me that all three of my shows feel like they’re run by different people. Grey’s is thematic both season long and episodically, and it’s very important to me that the stories fall into that theme. Private Practice is thematic in a season-long way. There’s no rule that says that each episode has to fall into a specific theme. Although last season, we fooled around with Addison doing a voice-over when she’s in therapy and that’s a little bit thematic, but it’s not thematic for every character. With Scandal, there’s no theme for each episode and there’s no theme for the characters, and yet, somehow whatever’s happening in our A story dovetails with our B story, but it’s not necessarily purposeful. We don’t sit in the room and talk about it; we just do it.

NL: Last question. What’s the best thing about being a showrunner and what’s the worst?

SR: I think the best thing about being a showrunner is I write, “INT. OVAL OFFICE—DAY,” and then eight weeks later, I go down to the stage and I walk into an exact replica of the oval office and I sit behind an exact replica of the Resolute desk and I pretend to be the president. Or, I sit in an O.R. that someone built for me because I wrote, “INT. O.R. GALLERY—DAY,” and I pretend to do surgery. And, every single time that’s happened, I’ve gone down to the stage and sat down on that set and played for like forty-five minutes. That’s the best part. You’re the god of your own world in a way that is not healthy for anybody, but it’s fantastic. The worst part is feeling responsible for the jobs of hundreds of people. I don’t want to fuck up my job and ruin the ability of hundreds of other people to make a living. There are like eight hundred people who have jobs because I wrote these pilot scripts—that’s serious and I don’t want to put anybody out of work. I feel an extraordinary sense of responsibility for everyone. It keeps me awake at night.

NL: That’s what Shondaland is all about.

SR: It’s probably why Grey’s has gone ten seasons, because I really refused to let the show get boring because we’ve got to keep going. This is family. The crew is my family. And I want them to keep having jobs. I want us to stay together.