A

Cartoon Girl’s
Secret Guide
To
Developing Kids’
Comedy Series
That Sell

Rita Street

2
 A Cartoon Girl’s Secret Guide
To
Developing Kids’ Comedy Series
That Sell

© 2015 by Rita Street

Cover design and illustration by Ryan Cecil Smith

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any
means—electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying),
recording, or otherwise—without prior permission in writing
from the author.

Published by Radar Cartoons, LLC.

Learn more information at:

www.radarcartoons.com
 Table of Contents

Introduction —Rita, Who Are You and Why

the Heck Should I Read This Book?............... Pg 5

Secret #1—The Number One Most Important

Task in Development is Creating
an Awesome Hero!.......................................... Pg 12

Secret # 2—Writing Great Springboards…… Pg 35

Secret # 3—Writing Loglines That Sell……. Pg 50

Secret #4—The Sales Bible………………… Pg 60

Secret #5— How Not To Blow It

in a Pitch Meeting………………………….. Pg 68

Secret #6—Get Tough and Put Your Big Girl

(or Boy) Pants On…………………………… Pg 75

Secret #7— Shows for 6-11 Year-Olds are the

Easiest to Sell……………………………….. Pg 84

Finally—Some More Junk About Me

And More Advice…………………………… Pg 89

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 Rita, Who Are You and
Why the Heck Should I Read
This Book?

Hi!
My name is Rita and I have been working in the
animation industry for over two decades. During the
last decade, (after I made the career jump from
animation journalism to executive producing), I
developed hundreds of animated series concepts. In
order to sell those concepts, I landed more than 1,200
pitch meetings with buyers (a.k.a. development execs)
around the world. Out of those 1,200 or more pitches I
sold fifteen concepts into development deals. Four of
those concepts actually made it through the boot camp

5
that is “the development process” and out into
production. (For more details on the shows I’ve
produced see the last chapter, “More Junk About
Me…”)
So, okay—1,200 pitches, fifteen development deals
and only four shows—super crappy odds right?
Considering that I’m actually kinda successful, you
might be thinking to yourself, “This business is
nuts!”—and, you’d be right.
The animation development business is nuts. It’s
frustrating and quite often, it’s totally heartbreaking.
You definitely have to be comfortable hearing one of
the following a lot: “You know…it’s just not right for
us.”; or “I actually hate that.”; or “It’s cool, but we
already have a show in development just like it.”; or,
the ever popular, “Ahhhhhhh…(long pause)….It’s a
no.”
That said, I hope I have scared you off and you are
now considering a slightly less challenging career path.
Seriously, I’m telling you, take up professional golf,
get into Nano-tech, ramp up your presidential
campaign—anything is easier than this.
Still with me?

6
 Okay, then you’re nuts too. But I gotta say, you’re a
brave, awesome sort of nuts. And, because of that, I
want you to be successful. And once you are
successful, you’ll get to enjoy some of the good stuff.
’Cause despite all of the disappointments you’re going
to face, there is still some good stuff and that good
stuff is the peeps.
Animation people are awesome, mainly because
they love cartoons, and loving cartoons makes you a
pretty sweet soul. Okay, that’s obviously a big
generalization. Just like any industry, animation has its
jerks and everyone gets stressed out and behaves
poorly for a minute (or ten), but for the most part,
there’s nothing more fun than hanging out with artists
and writers who are fun and funny by nature.
And, oh! Another bit of good stuff? After years of
hard work, when the agony of development and
production is over, you actually get to see your name
roll by in the TV credits.
I gotta admit, that’s pretty cool.

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 I’m Gonna Train You To Succeed

Because I’ve been lucky and tenacious enough to

meet with so many buyers—from indie producers to
network execs—I’ve literally been “trained” to
succeed. Or at least that’s how I’ve always viewed my
relationship with buyers. Whether they know it or not,
I think of them as my own personal development
trainers.
I’m super grateful for all the knowledge buyers have
given me over the years. And now, I’m gonna give that
knowledge to you. Because, darn it, the world needs
more great cartoons! And you’re just the crazy,
tenacious, brave creative person to give them to us.
That said, here is my first bit of secret advice—
buyers will help you and actually ask to see you again
as long as you do two things: 1) bring them
outstanding content; and 2) have the balls to ask for
their input.
Ahhhh…just a little side note on “input” here—and
please forgive me, because I really do write like I talk,
so you’re gonna get lots of side notes. Not all buyers
grok the cartoon business. Some of them come up from
legal, or from the temp pool, and just sort of end up in

8
cartoon development. Others have very rigid points of
view or philosophies. So, sometimes you have to take
their input with a grain of salt. But, never-no-never, let
on that you disagree with a buyer’s critique or opinion
of your work. That would not only be bad form, but
buyers talk to each other, and if one finds you rude or
inflexible he or she is most likely going to spread the
word around town (or the globe) that you’re not good
meeting material. And, the likelihood of you
continuing to land pitch meetings is going to decrease.
So, if a buyer tells you he or she likes your idea but
you should really change your adorable girl reindeer to
a boy buffalo, just take a breather and answer
thoughtfully—not sarcastically—as follows: “Wow, I
never would have thought of that. Thank you. I’m
really going to mull that one over,” and let it go.
Another bit of advice, which isn’t secret, but doesn’t
actually sink into a lot of heads: To do well in this
business you have to really love cartoons—I mean
really love cartoons. And, by love, I mean watch
cartoons. I’ve met a lot of folks who (after realizing
they couldn’t cut it in live action) decided to develop
cartoons. But these people have never watched an

9
episode of Adventure Time, not to mention a black and
white Fleischer Studios’ Popeye The Sailor.
You have to live and breathe cartoons (and collect
toys and comic books) because otherwise, this just isn’t
your world. It’s so incredibly hard to sell a show that
you really have to dedicate your life to it. Not joking
here. Plus, it always helps to be able to say you have
the same Hellboy toy as the one on the desk of the
buyer you’re pitching. That is some major geek bonus
points right there my friend, and hopefully a genuine
personal connection.
Anyway, enough of all that. In this book I’m going
to share the things I’ve learned from buyers along with
the techniques I’ve created for developing solid show
concepts that sell. You’ll learn everything from
creating an appealing hero character (the heart of your
show) to formatting a professional sales bible to
making a great impression at your first pitch to basic
mental survival strategies.
Finally, the contents of this book are targeted to
those who want to sell animated comedy series for
kids ages 6-11 (i.e., shows like SpongeBob
SquarePants), but the basics can be adapted for any
demographic and most any comedy show.

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 And, remember, these are just the basic, most
straightforward secrets in the biz. There are always
exceptions to these rules, but if you do decide to follow
them (even if you bend the rules to make them your
own), you will definitely have the right framework for
a potential sale. The rest is up to your own unique
brand of creativity, willingness to do the hard work,
and ability to get out there, network, and land pitch
meetings.

That said, let’s do this thang!

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 Secret #1
The Number One Most
Important Task in
Development is Creating
an Awesome Hero!
Okay, what is your show about? No. I mean really
about. No matter what you think your comedy show
for kids 6-11 years of age is, it is not about teaching
kids a moral lesson. It is not about the Old West, the
New West, or the East-West. It is not about tween
angst, and it is not about the fact there is too much
technology in kids’ lives.
 Your show is about the crazy fun way your hero
faces the world and makes a total, absolute, mess of it.

Otherwise?

It ain’t funny.

Sure, sure, I guess you can sell a comedy with your

highfalutin save-the-planet ideas embedded
somewhere, but for gosh sakes—don’t tell anyone that!
Let your desire to do good be your little secret.
Because, really, when it comes right down to it, isn’t it
good enough to make kids laugh? I mean come on,
what’s better than that?
And what, ultimately, is more fun for a kid viewer
than identifying with a character and then getting to
watch that totally sympathetic hero drop the ball, walk
into a wall, or tell one itty bitty naughty gossipy white
lie and get busted?
Ahhhh… comedy! It’s so simple—and such a bitch!
So, coming up with the thing that makes your show
special, different, a “hit,” has less to do with the
message, or the setting, or the backstory, than the
impossibly unique character that is your hero.

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 And oh gosh, I’ll just say it. The ugly secret truth of
development for kids is that heroes are always
appealing but they’re not always the most interesting
members of your cast.
Think about it. If you were asked to write the bios
for Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, which one would
be more fun to write, and ultimately more fun to read?
Hands down, it’s Han. Luke is just so…well, “Luke,”
but happily, he does have one big, interesting flaw—
he’s an over-eager kid who needs to grow up and
become a man. He’s gotta go on his big hero’s journey
and save his galaxy.
But, Luke is not a TV hero. In Star Wars: Episode
IV - A New Hope, Luke is “evolving.”
If you take anything away from this read –TAKE
THIS NOTE! Your TV hero’s personality does not
evolve; it is set in stone. TV comedy heroes are pretty
much stuck in a permanent state of non-self-
actualization. They don’t learn lessons. They don’t
grow. They just are who they are, and that’s why we
love them. Oh sure, they may learn something about
themselves during the course of an episode, but by the
end of the episode their personality resets to its status
quo.

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 Think about it. We don’t tune in to watch Homer
gradually become a better person. If he lost weight,
treated his family super nice, and became a certified
public accountant—he’d be totally boring. We’d
basically hate him. Nothing against CPAs, but you get
my drift? We tune in to see Homie approach life like
he always does, as a self-centered slob who always
does the wrong thing and then has to fix it—’cause
somewhere under all that chub is a heart of gold.
Networks want kid hero characters with depth, but
without really bad traits. Sure they can have what I
call, “personality foibles,” but they can’t possess
overarching traits that are naughty.
When pitching, you will hear again and again the
request for characters that have “appeal” and for
characters who are “aspirational” (i.e. characters that
kids want to be like or have as friends). Kid heroes
need to be good kids at heart. (Or, if your kid hero is an
adult, he, she, or it, should think and act like a kid. I
mean really, in human years, how old is SpongeBob?
He’s definitely old enough to have his own home and a
job, so he’s not a kid. But he for sure acts like one.)
Parents don’t want their kids watching a cartoon
with a hero who is conniving because they don’t want

15
their children modeling that behavior. And networks
don’t want to have a conniving lead character because
they’ll lose parental approval.
Nickelodeon, Disney, even the edgier Cartoon
Network, all want hero characters who are sweet at
heart—even if they blow it sometimes and do bad
things. In fact, Nick’s development slogan a few years
back was “Heart+Fart=Smart.” You gotta have heart.
You gotta be silly. And, if you are, you’ll have a smart
show.
But, creating heroes with very few true foibles is
tough—really tough. Imagine trying to write Bugs
Bunny without his wiseacre personality? How would
you make a character like that interesting?
Yeah…like I said, it’s tough.
What you can do is mix up a recipe of loveable traits
that range from quirky to feisty to free spirited.
SpongeBob is a naïve optimist and he’s a blast to
watch. Hero characters don’t have to be assholes like
Archer to be funny. (You gotta love that show though,
right? Anyway…) It’s a heck of a lot easier to write an
Archer-type hero than it is to figure out the personality
of a nice kid who’s also fun to watch.

16
 Happily, you can add a little salt to the pepper, or
pepper to the salt, by adding a few personality foibles.
These are aspects of a character’s temperament that all
kids struggle to control, like being selfish or being a
show-off. And, unlike being a cheat or a conniver,
kids typically grow out of these traits due to peer
pressure. Note that these traits are considered
“secondary” to the overarching “positive” personality
traits.
To help kickstart your hero’s character bio, try
mixing and matching some of the following descriptors
from my “Positive Character Traits” list and my
“Personality Foibles” list below.
Try not to select “Positive Character Traits” that are
too similar. Characters start to come to life when you
describe the interesting combo of traits that make up
their personalities. In other words you don’t want to go
with “eccentric” and “quirky” because they are too
similar. You do, however, want to go with “reckless”
and “reliable” because these descriptors imply different
modes of thinking and being.
When you select a trait from the “Character Foibles”
list, make sure you select a descriptor that is in direct
opposition to one of your Positive Character Traits. A

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good example is from a show I exec produced, Cartoon
Network’s Hero: 108. During development we realized
that the artists who created our hero Lin Chung had
sketched him both as a highly accomplished warrior
and a really bad artist. Over the course of production,
we really played up this opposition, turning the
confident warrior into a guy who happened to
absolutely melt down when his artistic abilities were
criticized.
Finally, some descriptors in these lists work as either
Positive Traits or as Foibles. For instance, I originally
placed “Theatrical” in my Positive Character Traits
list, as I always imagine theatrical characters as simply
huge over actors. In one situation that could be
hysterical. In another, it could be really annoying. All
that to say, these traits are just general guidelines. As
you learn more and more about your character and
character development, you will begin to make your
own lists.
(I know. This all feels formulaic, but it’s just a first
step. We have more work to do after this. Here are
those lists…):

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 Positive Character Traits

Passionate, bordering on obsessive, about something

Really good at something
Single-minded
An act-first, think-later type
Athletic
Innocent
Comical
Rambunctious
Emotional
Inquisitive
Quirky
Ditzy
Creative
Logical
Silly/Goofball
Playful
Eager
Easy Going
Positive
Smart (or Genius)
An Inventor or good at fixing things
Charming (but not creepy charming)

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 Lovable
Brave
Reckless
Devoted to friends and family
A good sibling
A good talker/salesperson
Self-Confident
Optimistic
Naïve
Reliable
Eccentric
Energetic
Excitable
Charismatic
Responsible
Guided by a Moral Compass
Thoughtful
Friendly
Supportive
Empathetic
A Collector
Free spirited
A kid at heart

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 Personality Foibles

Selfish/Self-Centered
Restless
Theatrical
Egotistical
Absent-minded
A Worrier
Easily Confused
No Personal Boundaries
Stringent Personal Boundaries
Overly Sensitive to Criticism
Controlling
Jealous
Irritable
Anxious
Impulsive
Rebel (But for good, Like Robin Hood)
Ignorant
Laid Back
Wants Instant Gratification
Impatient
Nerdy

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 Timid
Fearful
Spoiled
Sulky
Cracks under pressure
Stubborn
Loud
Bossy
Judgmental

Now, this doesn’t mean that for an episode your kid

hero’s personality can’t be totally taken over by a
foible. During the course of an episode, characters can
get mad, act out, or be a jealous mess. It just means
that the overarching description of your hero should
amount to a positive, fun, and extraordinarily likeable
personality.

Likeability is the real secret.

This is super important. Write it on a Post-it and put it

on your monitor.

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 Likeability in a hero is the number one secret
ingredient to selling your show!

Conversely, if your hero is rotten at heart, then

you’re not really writing for kids.

A Kid Hero Should Not Be:

Mean or Evil
A Constant Prankster
A Constant Trickster
A Conniver
Dumb
A Total Klutz (heroes can be a little klutzy sometimes)
Totally Inept (heroes can be a little inept sometimes)
A Pathological Liar
A Thief
A Coward (heroes can be afraid of stuff sometimes)
A Faker
Incredibly shy (heroes can be a little shy sometimes)
Mentally Unstable
Worldly (i.e., they know about “sex”)
Unpredictable
Manipulative

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 A Total Grump
Lazy (heroes can have days that start out lazy)
A Really Bad Sibling
Depressed

A Disney buyer once told me that a Disney hero

shouldn’t be a nerd. I took that to mean that a Disney
hero can’t be unlovable, standoffish, or antisocial
because there are Disney heroes that are kinda nerdy,
but are still well socialized. Phineas and Ferb are kind
of nerdy, but they definitely know how to have fun,
make friends, and make the most of life.
(Side note —sidekicks can have amazingly
interesting or morally questionable traits that the hero
usually has to tamp down. A sidekick can be selfish,
grumpy, and cowardly, but the hero knows how to get
her out of her comfort zone and out participating in the
world. Handled correctly, this is a great source of
comedy.)
Developing your hero’s traits beyond these basic
kickstarter ideas is truly the secret sauce of a successful
show. Because buyers are literally going to ask you,
“Why should we love your hero?” “Why should we
spend millions to make your hero a star?” And you

24
have to be able to offer a description that’s compelling,
feels truthful—and most of all—is a set-up for comedy
gold.
Another secret? This process is messy. Like all
creative endeavors, it’s non-linear and based on the
timeline of your sub-conscious. So, be patient. This is
most likely not going to happen overnight, and if it
does, you might not have pushed your creative process
far enough.
In order to understand your hero, you might have to
write everything you know about his, her, or it’s world,
just to get that stuff out of your system. Put it all down,
every last possible bit, because writing like a maniac is
the only way to learn every last bit you can about your
character.
Or, you might have to “draw” it out of your system.
You might have to do tons and tons of sketches of your
hero’s hometown, home world, home cave, whatever
—while your subconscious is busy computing, trying
to build the life and personality of your hero within
those settings.
Another side note: be careful with this one. A lot of
creators get lost in world building and the backstory
and never bother to figure out their hero. Your hero

25
character’s personality is not its world or its backstory.
TV comedy characters live in the present time of
episodes and rarely do we need to learn details of their
former lives.
You may go through several complete written and
design dark alleys and overhauls before you find out
exactly who your character really is. Sometimes all it
takes is a snippet of funny dialogue or an eyebrow
raise in a sketch to clue you in. Then you’ll have a
moment when you will say, “Thank the Cartoon gods!
That’s my character; that is who my hero really is.
Now, I know how to explain him.”
This magic takes time to percolate. And if you don’t
take that time, you’re gonna be sitting in a pitch
session with your mouth open and no answers coming
out when the buyer says, “So what would your hero do,
if it was, for example, dropped into a cage with a tiger?
Seriously, I’m just trying to understand Roger the
Rattlesnake and figure out what makes him tick…er…
rattle.”

26
 Hero Builder: Exercise #1

So, now you’d probably like an example. So, I’m

gonna give you one and I’m naming her Taffy. I went
with the girl reindeer I mentioned in my intro. From
the “Positive Character Traits” list I picked “quirky,”
“rambunctious,” and “passionate.” From the
“Character Foibles” list I picked “selfish” and
“impatient.”
(In the following character bio sample, I bounce
back and forth between Positive Character Traits and
opposing Foibles, always trying to end on an upbeat
aspect of my character’s personality.

Taffy is a pretty quirky kid, ummm… she collects

moss: “Moss is just so…adorable.” She’s also
rambunctious, I mean wouldn’t you be if you had
clicky hooves and fantastic fancy antlers to flick
around? (Although she’s been known to catch them on
curtains, a lot!) She really wants to be a good sibling,
but let’s just say it—left to her own devices, this kid
can be kind of selfish. Taffy tries super hard to like her
sister Cari’s burnt-food collection, but it just doesn’t
have the “awesomeness power” of moss. Taffy is also

27
pretty passionate. She cries whenever she sees
anything super cute, like a baby sea lion, or…baby
moss…(I know, I didn’t think moss had babies either,
but Taffy’s the expert, so we’re going with that.) When
Taffy collects moss, she is focused, even industrious.
Other times, she can an impatient mess. Like in science
class she just wants to “try stuff.” (“I mean, can’t we
just do the experiment?. What’s all this sitting around
talking anyway??! )

So, I now know some silly stuff about Taffy, but it

feels a little surface. I need more depth. I need to really
understand what makes Taffy tick. Otherwise, I won’t
understand how she drives the action of her episodes.

In order to truly fill out a character bio, I use the

following acting exercise:

Pretend you are your main character and you’ve

been asked to monologue your life story. Now, just
start writing. You can literally start at birth or this
morning, whatever suits your character’s fancy. Where
you start is actually a reflection of your character’s
personality, because some characters take this exercise

28
super seriously and can be very precise. Others are
like, “Um, for real? Can’t I just tell you what I’m into
and then we can go out for pizza? Or maybe let’s just
go out for pizza?”
Doing this exercise at full tilt is admittedly a little
strange. You’ll find that you are you and you are also
your character and you are also watching your
character. If it’s working right, you may also find it’s
impossible to do this as a writing exercise —simply
because you can’t write or type fast enough to keep up
with everything your character wants to say. If that
happens, try recording this improvisation with your
smartphone as you act it out loud.
Don’t hold back. Seriously, if you need to cry, cry. If
you need to jump up and down, jump up and down. If
you need to talk in a crazy voice, talk in a crazy voice.
You might end up scrapping all of this, but I can
almost 100% guarantee that you will learn something
important about your hero—something you didn’t
know before taking this plunge.
It might be as simple as: “My character hates to go
to the library because she just really, really, really likes
to talk.” Or as stupidly profound as: “My character just
bought a milk truck but doesn’t know how to drive,

29
’cause, you know, it’s the status symbol of a milk truck
that’s really important.”
If you are an artist, take the time to put your
character in tons of different full-body poses that
reflect this writing exercise. What does your hero look
like elated? Freaked out? Mulling over an idea? You’ll
find that you’re starting to come up with signature
gestures, like a repeated flick of the wrist when
thinking up a plausible excuse, or super wide overly
blinky eyes when your character has a super genius
idea.
These signature gestures will also inspire signature
catch phrases like “Sort of…almost… on it!” or
“Yessss! I didnnn’t!”
So, here’s my try at this writing exercise. I imagine
that Taffy’s talking into a microphone on a stage at one
end of her school cafeteria. The room is empty, so it’s
after school or something, but Taffy is pretending she
has an audience.

“Soooooo, about me….Neato subject, me. I mean, I

like me and my sister likes me. I think her burnt-food
collection is kind of boring…but don’t tell her that.
Collecting moss, like I do, is so much more…what’s the

30
word? Empowering. It’s not for everyone. But, I wish it
was. You can do so many things with moss. Like you
can raise them. And you can wear them, and you can
decorate with them. I have a big toy mouse made of
moss in my room. That!! That!!! Took a lot of
collecting. Wow! Wow! Wow! Ughhhh…is this thing
on? Can you hear me in the back? ’Cause you don’t
wanna miss this! It’s all WOW when it comes to me,
TAFFY! It’s just a whole lot of Wow! Pow! Wow!
Sometimes I do a Wow! Pow! Wow! Dance. Like this.
(Swings her antlers until she gets kind of dizzy. Pants.)
I know, amazing, right? Anyway, so, what else? Ms.
Pumpkin showed us a video this morning of baby
bunnies, and I cried. I mean Wow! That’s it. Z’all over.
Cuteness pretty much does me in!”

From this free flowing exercise I learned—or Taffy

told me—that her catch phrase is WOW! POW!
WOW! That she really has bunches of self-confidence
even if she is an outlier. (Moss collecting? Really?)
She could probably charm the pants off anyone and
might be a tad bit self-centered.
Now, okay, I’m not crazy here. When I say Taffy
“told me,” she didn’t whisper in my ear. But, as I was

31
typing I was picturing her in the scene and it felt like I
was typing what she was saying.
If I kept at this, I would definitely learn more about
Taffy and her quirks. Next, I would probably have her
talk more about her moss pets to find out more about
this whole collecting thing. Then I’d try to have her
talk more about her sister and her family and her
friends at school. Finally, I’d want her to talk about her
enemies. It’s hard to imagine how a cute kid like this
would have an enemy, but there’s gotta be someone
who gets on her nerves and sets her up for creating
chaos. ’Cause Taffy is also a character who does not
make well-informed or well-thought-out decisions in
life.
To give you some practice—and literally, as dumb
as it sounds—you do need to practice this; I’m giving
you some goofy character names and some animals to
choose from.
So, pick a character name below and match it to an
animal and then try the two exercises above. (Best to
write and draw these if you can.)

32
 Mix and Match
Insta-Comedy Hero

Names:

Spunky Zaps

Becky Beverly Brown

Mint Creature

Snappy Ray

Todd Gold

Crunch Lambert

Tanya Snap

Darla Marv

Boo Sprite

Rhonda Charm

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 Types of Characters:

Pug Dog

Puffer Fish

Tiger Cub

Giraffe

Fox

Hedgehog

Orangutan

Hummingbird

Iguana

Narwhale

Now get writing and drawing and create your

appealing, super awesome, utterly unique hero!

34
 Secret # 2
Writing Great Springboards
If you’re in the middle of a pitch and your buyer asks,
“But what does your character want?” you’re probably
in trouble. If a buyer is asking you what your character
wants, then you probably haven’t done a good job
explaining what happens to your character in a typical
episode.
If you want to sell your show, you not only have to
explain how awesome your hero is, but how funny he
is during the course of a typical episode. Again, how
does your hero cause chaos and then set things right?
Like us humans, animated characters are driven by
desires. Just like us, they want stuff. Some characters
want to be helpful when no one around them really

35
wants help, some want to make the most of an endless
summer, some just want to be their loveable totally
awkward selves in the face of a world that just doesn’t
get them.
The thing your hero “wants” is the thing your hero is
always busy “doing.” The PowerPuff Girls are always
busy saving the world before bedtime. So, the
PowerPuff Girls want to save the world. SpongeBob
naïvely tries to spread his positivity. SpongeBob wants
his happiness to rub off on others.
If you know what your character wants you can use
that desire as a guidepost or mission statement for what
drives the action of an episode.
Episode concepts in animation are called
“springboards.” The nature of that title implies a
starting point for a more full-fledged idea to come. I
have found, however, that buyers actually want more
meat than that. Instead of one or two lines that set up a
story. They want to read a paragraph of copy that
explains how your hero botches it and then puts it back
together. In other words, they want the payoff.
(Oh, and just another rather important side note here.
Episodes for kids’ 6-11 comedies are typically 11
minutes long. With commercial breaks, two episodes,

36
run back-to-back, make one half-hour show. So you’re
not coming up with springboards for a half-hour show,
but half-of-a-half-hour show. The good news is,
because comedy series are pretty frenetic, you can pack
a lot of plot into those 11-minutes. And, if you’re
really good, you can also pack in a lot of meaningfully
funny character moments that make us laugh at and
with your hero and fall in love with her even more.)
So, that’s all well and good, but here’s the rub.
Springboards are super tough to write. Basically you’re
trying to define the plotline of a minimum of five
episodes without actually writing five scripts.
And, now, I’ll bet you’re asking, “Why not just write
five scripts?”
Well, you could of course, but don’t think that’s
going to impress a potential buyer. By doing all the
work you have essentially cut your future partner out
of the picture. There’s no room for input with this
strategy and believe me, as much as you think you may
know a network, you don’t know it as well as an exec
who works for that network. For example, you
probably won’t know that the network just adopted a
new initiative that concerns childhood obesity and that
there is now a mandate against showing kid characters

37
eating forty-scoop tall sundaes. So, if you just spent six
weeks writing an entire script about an ice cream
sundae monster that your hero has to eat to subdue—
you’re screwed.
Plus, if you make the decision to write five scripts
on your own, you’re missing the benefit of working
with a team, or at the very least, the benefit of working
with a talented story editor who can “plus” your
writing.
Only spec television scripts are written in a
vacuum—and they’re written that way because the
writer is trying to land a job. Writers do write alone,
but ideally they think in groups. For instance, if you’re
a writer on someone else’s animated series, you’re
going to have conversations with the story editor or
creators or producers about the springboard concept
they want you to take to script.
Then you’ll probably extend that paragraph to a one-
pager and get feedback; write an outline and get
feedback; write a draft of a script and get feedback, etc.
And during this process you’ll be pitching gags and
new twists and turns that will inspire the rest of the
team. They’ll react, and you’ll learn stuff about the
show, the hero and the other characters.

38
 Unless someone is paying you, if you write those
five scripts you will have invested way too much time
and energy into a totally untested idea. Right now, you
don’t even know if a network has a similar idea in
development that’s gonna force this concept into a
drawer. Believe me, it’s better to get out there and get
some initial feedback than it is to spend six months
writing scripts.
That said, I’ve actually had to come up with a
system that helps me get through the process of writing
springboards. First off, I have to imagine my hero in
various ridiculous scenarios from his world. And I
really try to keep these scenarios limited to a kid’s
perspective on life; i.e., situations that kids find
themselves in, want to get themselves into, or totally
avoid. Even if your hero lives on the moon and is
actually an adult alien, he, she, or it should still think
like a kid.
I start by looking over my list of universal set-ups
that all kids are attracted to or have to face:

Universal Kids Set-Ups

Avoiding chores

39
 Slumber parties
Struggles with homework
Family Pets/Classroom Pets
Parties
Swimming
Building a fort
Clubs
Robots
Cowboys and Indians
Cars
Sports
Space
Vacations
Family Dinners
Comic book hero worship
Dolls
Haunted Houses
Theme Parks
Sharks
Recess
Secret Codes
Passing Notes
Technology
Popular kids

40
 Rainy Days/Snow Days
Annoying little brother or sister
Fish out of water
Mean Kids
Decorate your room
Class president campaign
Produce an event/contest
Parent’s Job for a Day
Babysitting
Allowance Money
Concerts
The Mall/Food Court
DIY Projects (gone wrong)
Super Powers/Flying/Invisibility

Then I look at how I can mix and match these with

“actions” my particular hero might take during a given
episode. Here are some things that Taffy the Reindeer
might do or feel. Note that some of these actions
contradict my list of positive hero traits from the
previous chapter, but remember, these are just things
she does during the course of a single episode—these
actions do not represent her global personality which
will shine through by episode end.

41
 Taffy the Reindeer’s
Typical Actions

Overreact
Get freaked out
Be oblivious
Avoid doing stuff
Lose focus
Be forgetful
Be gossipy
Be snobby
Be a goob
Fantasize
Hunt for cuteness
Give bad advice
Get jealous
Get confrontational
Get her feelings hurt
Hurt someone’s feelings
Lose track of time
Come to the wrong conclusion
Make the wrong purchase
Negotiate a bad playground deal

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 Fight with best friend

So, here’s how my matrix for writing a springboard

works. I look through my list of Universal Kid Set-Ups
and find one that sounds right for my series. Family
Dinners sounds interesting for Taffy.
Then I marry that with a Typical Type of Action. I
think Taffy gets jealous a lot, even though she doesn’t
want to be that kind of reindeer.
A possible episode could then feature Taffy having a
jealous reaction during dinner, upsetting someone, or
doing something crazy that starts the mayhem, and
then she has to put things rights.
And ideally, there will be some crazy surreal twist in
there that relates to Taffy’s personality, adds to the
chaos and makes this a cartoon rather than a live action
show.
Side note—It’s super important that your show be
cartoony. It’s not enough to have characters that are
animals or objects. For a kids' comedy to be successful,
the characters should do things that take advantage of
the medium of animation and by that I mean, there are
no boundaries to what can happen in a cartoon, i.e.,
Felix the Cat takes off his tail and uses it as a cane.

43
(Except, of course, for the boundaries of your
particular world—don’t go breaking the boundaries
you’ve already set. Just mess with them.)
Oh, and eventually you’ll have to deal with
production boundaries. Your director is going to give
you a head slap if you have a herd of shiny candy-
headed lightning throwing hamsters stampede through
an entire scene. Herds of animals, lots of shiny objects
and visual effects are television budget busters.
Anywho, just to get your thinker thinking in
“cartoons,” I’ve created this list of weird things that
could happen in your episode:

Adding the Cartoony

Things or Characters Change Size, Shape, Transform

or Come Apart
Unexpected Super Powers Are Gained (or Lost)
Monsters Invade
Spells Are Cast
Things Come to Life
Disguises are Donned
Identities are Mistaken

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 Rules of the World Mutate
Unexpected calm in the face of Mayhem
Unexpected Mayhem in the face of calm
Imaginary Set-Up Becomes Real
The Absolutely Outrageous is Now Law

So, if you put a little of all of the above together,

you’re gonna end up with a template for a solid
episode springboard. Or, at the very least, have a
pretty good start.
The kicker is to always have your hero drive your
action, rather than the action drive your hero. By that I
mean, make sure your hero causes the problem rather
than someone or something else. Here’s another Post-it
note for your computer:

Things shouldn’t happen to your hero.

Your hero should be the instigator of all chaos.

Sure, sure you can break this rule if you want, but
I’m telling you this is the most surefire way for success
in a kids’ animated comedy today.
Which makes me think of another side note. A
couple of years ago, I was getting super freaked out

45
about the emerging sophistication in comedy writing
for kids TV. Sans language and innuendos, shows for
kids nowadays are just as funny as primetime sitcoms.
So, I thought I would take a comedy writing class and
beef up my funny.
Smart, right? Well, come to find out, comedy-
writing courses in Los Angeles are really stand-up
comedy classes. Agghhhh! So, I took a stand-up class.
It was terrifying (because we actually had to perform at
a real comedy club), beyond difficult, but majorly
informative.
I took Joe Falzarano’s LA Stand-Ups class
(lastandups.com). Joe is an award-winning TV comedy
producer and helped launch the careers of such greats a
Louis C.K., Michael Patrick King, and Mike Sweeney.
Joe is an awesome comedy coach and I can’t
recommend his class enough because I learned one
really important thing for beginning comedy writers—
it’s all about the gags.
I thought you just told a story and then got a laugh.
Nope. For total neophytes like me, you want to get
them laughing and keep them laughing—constantly.
(Otherwise, your chances of bombing significantly
increase.) So, when you start out, you write gag-to-

46
gag-to-gag and all of that adds up to a story, with every
sentence you utter being funny.
Do you know how hard that is? Murder. It’s murder.
But, we learned this system, and we all succeeded.
I bring this up as a means of saying, “You may fight
against me and think that shows aren’t driven by
heroes, but just give it up. You’re gonna get more
laughs (and more sales) if you start out doing it my
way. Break the rules when you have a few shows under
your belt.”
Okay, so back to springboards…I’m gonna give you
an example. I’m gonna put Taffy at a family dinner and
she’s going to become immediately jealous of Cari
who’s bragging about some new piece of burnt-food
she collected. And I’ve also selected “Massively
Changes Sizes” to up my cartoon factor.

I start out by bullet-pointing the action:

• During dinner, Taffy gets totally jealous of her

sister (Taffy starts the chaos here)

47
 • The girls get in a burnt-toast vs. moss fight that
escalates to outrageous proportions, with the
collections growing to massive sizes (cartoon comedy)

• Taffy takes it one step too far and ends up

destroying the family home

• Word gets around school and Mindy, the popular

girl (whose admirers give her collections of stuff she
could care less about), makes fun of Taffy

• Taffy goes ballistic and challenges Mindy to a

“collection” race—Mindy accepts (Taffy has upped the
chaos again)

• The challenge is so outrageous Taffy and Mindy

basically destroy their town

• Taffy sees the error of her ways and decides to fix

things. She praises Mindy’s amazing “collecting” skills
but says there’s no way she could ever collect an entire
new town! Mindy takes the bait…new town acquired!
(Taffy’s tricky idea instigates the resolution.)

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 • Taffy apologies to Mindy, her sister, and her
parents… and then her sister instantly shows off her
latest piece of burnt-toast… Taffy blows her stack…
and the whole cycle starts to repeat.

Now I just have to edit that down to a couple of

sentences in order to have a tight springboard that still
includes Taffy’s instigation of mayhem and her
resolution. I top it all off with a silly, punish title.

Deer-ner Conversation
During a family “deer-ner,” Taffy loses her cool
and challenges her sister to a “prove-who-has-the-
best-collection” contest of such ginormous proportions
the girls’ end up destroying their home. At school,
popular deer Mindy teases Taffy for her lack of self-
control. Taffy loses it again and challenges Mindy to a
“prove-who-has-the-best-collection” contest that ends
up destroying the entire town. Ahhh…maybe Taffy has
taken this too far? No way! She immediately
challenges Mindy to a prove-who-can-collect-an-
entire-new-town contest! Wow! Pow! Wow! Problem
solved…as least until the next deer-ner conversation.

49
 Secret # 3
Writing Loglines That Sell
Oh my… can I just say how much I loathe writing
loglines? I hate that we need to come up with a semi-
pun-poetic, perfectly crafted sentence that explains
every element of the hero’s personality, what the show
we’re pitching is about, as well as the series’ overall
tone. I also have to admit that loglines are super useful
sales tools.
It’s just that I’m really bad at writing them—and so
is most everyone except Eric Coleman, the former
Nick exec—now the SVP of original programming and
GM of Disney Television Animation—who supposedly

50
came up with the perfect logline for a little hit he
purchased called SpongeBob SquarePants.
According to development legend, Eric helped pen
the perfect one-liner to describe the iconic porifera,
which goes something like this:

SpongeBob is a naïve optimist living

in a world of pessimists.

What? I know, I know. This logline doesn’t say that

he’s a sponge with square pants that happens to live
under the sea with his pet snail and his best friend
Patrick, a starfish, and works for a really grumpy boss.
Instead, this sentence gets down to the very essence
of the show itself. SpongeBob is naïve. This character
trait makes him lovable and a magnet for trouble.
The more common logline is the one I’m sure
you’re more acquainted with, the one-liner that totally
explains the show, but doesn’t give you any emotional
juice. This logline is typically the TV Guide-style
description of the show and, by-the-by, it’s rarely just
one line long.
For example, here’s one TV Guide.com description
for SpongeBob SquarePants I found: “A chipper sea

51
sponge and his nautical neighbors make waves in the
deep-sea city of Bikini Bottom in this clever and
playful kiddie cartoon aimed at preschoolers.
SpongeBob’s acquaintances include the goofy starfish
Patrick, cheerful squirrel Sandy Cheeks (who lives in
an air bubble), and grouchy Squidward.”
Ohhhhh, snap! If you write this in a sales bible and
send it to me, I WILL throw it away. TV Guide is
obviously speaking to the masses here (even if they are
wantonly misinformed—SpongeBob is not a preschool
show), so I gotta cut them a bit of slack. But if you
ever describe your hero as merely “chipper,” I’m
gonna head smack you!
Unfortunately, a lot of show creators and story
editors take this tone with their writing, never realizing
that slaphappy prose does nothing for the buyer—
except maybe annoy him. Of course you need to write
solid, entertaining copy—especially when crafting a
logline—but it has to have some heart. If you can’t
make your buyer love your hero, at least make sure that
he’s intrigued by your hero. Jeepers!
This TV Guide-style example is the kind of logline I
dislike the most, because, when I read it, I instantly
understand the show, but I don’t care about the show. I

52
don’t understand it in my gut the way I understand the
two words “naïve optimist,” because those two words
inherently imply a good guy with overreaching
expectations for reality, a guy who is always going to
dive into situations that are over his head.
So the conundrum for show creators is that most
executives really need the tone logline but are only
expecting the TV Guide-style log line. So, I’ve learned
to give them both.
To help you learn to write in both styles, let’s dig in
and work on the poetic version first; the “SpongeBob is
a naïve optimist living in a world of pessimists”
version. To do so, I will rely heavily on the best
animation instructor I’ve ever known—my English
teacher mom, Roberta.
To be fair, my Mom could care less about cartoons.
It’s not that she dislikes them, it’s just she’s more into
“human” fiction. While Dad and I were trading Donald
Duck and Walt Disney Comics and Stories back and
forth before bedtime, Mom was reading Gabriel García
Márquez.
Roberta received her Masters in English Literature
and has spent most of her life reading heady works of
fiction. To her lasting credit, she has introduced more

53
people to great often-unknown authors from around the
globe than most NPR book reviewers. Really, the
woman knows a good read when she finds it.
And she taught me good taste in literature. Because
of her I have read many of the best works fiction has to
offer—and have relied on that magnificent storytelling
as guideposts for animated storytelling my entire
career.
But, when I was nine and out of school for the
summer, I wasn’t so into that sort of thing. I was more
into comics and drawing and riding my pony. That was
the summer Mom made me read The Taming of the
Shrew before a planned vacation to San Diego and a
performance of that play at the Old Globe Theatre.
Now, I gotta tell ya, making a kid stay indoors and
read Shakespeare when she’d rather be outside
exploring was…well… harsh. But, something
happened a few miserable hours into that process. I got
it. I mean I got Shakespeare and I was laughing. This
old dead dude knew comedy timing out the wazoo.
And, I knew in my gut that I’d been introduced to a
new kind of special; that writing in literature could be
as cool as writing in comic books. (It also made seeing
the play a whole lot more fun.)

54
 Anyway, all that to say, that I grew up reading the
good stuff thanks to Mom and reading the good stuff
informs everything you do in entertainment.
Remember, you can’t create great works unless you
know what great work is.
Most important, Mom introduced me to Hemingway
and he was and will always remain my writing hero—
right alongside the duck-man Carl Barks of course.
And, it was Hemingway who reportedly came up with
the ultimate logline—the “six word” novel—known
now as flash or sudden fiction.
Here is that famous and harrowing six-worder:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

So, okay, that’s pretty depressing. Obviously a baby

has died before growing into his or her first pair of
shoes and the parent, or parents, are selling the shoes
before they were ever worn. These six words not only
imply the tone of a larger work, but the stakes. You can
imagine a young family, struggling to make ends meet,
dedicated to one goal—having a baby—and then the
child falling ill and dying.

55
 We get it. We get this novel at a very deep visceral
level—and it’s only six words.
Since then, the six-word story has become a popular
writer’s challenge. Here are a few more from a 2006
Wired Magazine collection that also have a very
novelistic or cinematic flair:

Gown removed carelessly. Head, less so.

- Joss Whedon

Automobile warranty expires. So does engine.

- Stan Lee

Longed for him. Got him. Shit.

- Margaret Atwood

I’m dead. I’ve missed you. Kiss … ?

- Neil Gaiman

Fun right? So, I’m betting you are starting to see the
connection between a six-word novel and a logline.
When writing a six-word novel you are trying to do
two things: 1) imply the stakes for the hero (i.e., what
the hero wants): and 2) the potential outcome of his or
her desires.
Now, if we take this format and adapt it to
television, we need a tweak. Remember: TV is not

56
film. TV is not a novel. It is an ongoing, ever-
unfolding storytelling mechanism that does not imply
an overall outcome. Hemingway’s six-word novel
implies an outcome —the baby died. The logline for
SpongeBob implies a current and ongoing situation ripe
for chaos.
So, when writing a logline for an animated series
you are trying to do these two things: 1) explain the
hero and his, her, or it’s desires; and 2) how these
desires are almost impossible to attain.
And, the magical thing is, if you try to write this
initially in only six words, you are more likely to come
up with stronger more showing words than you would
if you simply set out to write an entire sentence. In
other words, these strict boundaries encourage
creativity.
Here are two six-word examples for my imaginary
Taffy the Reindeer show:

Crazed collector faces disinterest. Challenge on!

Crazed collector challenges status quo. Awkward!

I kind of like elements of both so I’m going to

combine them and then expand them into the poetic-
style logline for the show:

A crazed collector challenges her

57
 disinterested classmates—
with awkward results.

But, maybe the following is stronger:

A crazed collector challenges her disinterested

classmates.

Now the word “disinterested” isn’t sounding strong

enough. Maybe it’s too negative. Or maybe it’s just
boring. So, here’s another take:

A crazed collector challenges unimpressed

classmates.

Actually, I think I like this best:

A crazed collector challenges aloof classmates to share

her passions—with totally awkward results.

Now onto the more traditional example of the

logline, the one that explains the show in more detail.
My goal here is to explain a bit more about my hero
while maintaining the tone of the poetic form.
Typically I open with the name of my hero and
somewhere I include a reference to his, her or it’s age
(in this case I just say she’s in middle school). Since
my character is an animal, I’ll mention that. Then I’ll

58
work to explain, in a fun way, how awesome Taffy is
by using descriptors from the “Positive Character
Traits” and “Character Foibles” lists. Finally I want to
hint at how Taffy causes chaos which implies how
funny my show will be. Okay, that’s asking a lot,
right? But, here goes:

Taffy is a young reindeer with a nutso passion for

collecting stuff. This rambunctious, free spirit’s
greatest dream is to spread her quirky hobby around
the globe—or at least around her middle school. Too
bad this isn’t the kind of game most reindeer are into…

Okay, so obviously, I’ve now realized that Taffy

has to be dedicated to all kinds of collecting, not just to
collecting moss. And, if I were to continue to develop
the Taffy the Reindeer series, I might learn that
collecting isn’t the only thing she’s into. Maybe she
just wants all the kids at school to like whatever she
likes—which doesn’t always turn out so well for her.

Anyway, I hope these systems for developing

loglines help you wrap your little antlers and hooves
around the process. Now on to a system for packaging
all the materials you have created so far…

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 Secret # 4
The Sales Bible

A sales bible is a document that shows (through

images) and explains (via text) everything anyone
needs to understand about your show. It should include
the show logline, your hero bio, an explanation of what
your show is about, bios for your hero’s friends and
enemies, a description of the world’s settings and what
happens to your hero in a typical episode.
The sales bible serves two purposes. As a sales tool,
the bible helps showcases your series concept during a
pitch—I upload mine as a PDF to my iPad and flick
through it as I yak. The sales bible also serves as a
“leave behind” so that your potential buyer can review

60
your property at his or her leisure and share it with
colleagues up and down the decision-making ladder.
There is, however, a third purpose for a sales bible
that is as vital as the end product itself. The act of
creating your sales bible helps you fully develop your
show. Through the process of writing and illustrating
your sales bible you are forced to answer any possible
question a buyer might have during a pitch or read.
And, by answering these questions, you come to
understand who your hero really is, why friends like
her, what she wants and needs, and what the show is
truly about.
(Note: A pitch bible differs from a series, or
production bible, in that it offers a buyer a quick-study
view of your series. It does not, for example, explain
the do’s and don’ts of writing a script for your series.
That detailed information is contained within the
production bible. So, think of it this way: A sales bible
is like a really well done brochure for a particular car
in a dealer showroom, and the production bible is like
the instruction manual for building the car.)
The best-looking sales bible I’ve ever seen was
Craig McCracken’s bible for Foster’s Home for
Imaginary Friends. It was so simple and clean; big

61
pictures of the characters, few words, and plenty of
soothing white space.

Bibles don’t have to be fancy;

they just have to show off
your show’s best asset—your hero.

That said, here are the elements you need to include

in your bible, along with my suggested order:

• Cover
• Image of your Hero and Logline
• Show Description
• Your Hero’s full bio
• Bios for your Hero’s Pals
• Bios for your Hero’s Enemies
• Your Series World and its settings
• Springboards with an
“in a typical episode” explanation
• Your Contact Information

• Your Cover—I like to think of the cover of a sales

bible like a movie poster in a theater lobby. When
you’re walking past all those awesome, shiny posters

62
you know instantly if you want to see that movie or
not. You know if you see Will Ferrell in some wacky
pose, looking a little anxious (because he’s in his
underwear) that you probably want to see that movie.
Your cover should be the movie poster for your TV
show. With just a glance, your buyer gets what your
show is about.

• Image of your Hero and Logline – Your hero should

look like he, she or it, is trying to get what he wants.
He should be in action and that action should have an
obstacle, so we visually understand that this is a
comedy. The logline can be at the top or the bottom of
this page, but don’t feel like you have to fill up the rest
of the space with color and backgrounds, etc. Let this
be a “hero” moment.

• Description of Show – Here’s your chance, in just a

few lines, to explain your show —who your hero is,
what he wants and how it’s gonna be a stretch to fulfill
those dreams. You can show more of the world here
and a few key characters if you want. But, don’t cram
things in.

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• Your Hero’s Full Bio—This should be a couple of
pages of yumminess about your hero that explains why
we should love him, her, or it. As my friend John
Hardman, VP of Development and Production for
Saban Brands says, “It’s always good in a character bio
to give some action explanations that start with ‘Like
the time when…’ and explain how your character
behaved.”

Side note: I LOVE working with an artist who can

give me poses, expressions, and gestures for
characters. The rougher the better. And I LOVE to
include these rough images on the hero pages of my
sales bible. My preference is to keep these sketches in
their rawest form—never to clean them up or color
them. Other pages can have fully rendered images, but
I like to put sketches on my hero’s bio pages. Buyers
with a real eye for animation are inspired by these
energetic works of art and can immediately begin to
picture my hero’s personality and behavior on screen.

• Bios For Your Hero’s Pals—These are shorter

descriptions than your hero, but should include great
depth and some good funny. You should also explain

64
how your hero feels about each character and how each
character feels about your hero. It’s good to explain
their relationships, especially if they add to the funny.
You can put several pals on a single page.

• Bios for your Hero’s Enemy or Enemies—Make sure

that your enemy is not a true villain, but, instead, a
wacky form of a villain with lots of comedic flaws.
This character kinda has the power to take your hero
down, but usually botches it. That, or the bad guy’s
powers are so ridiculous that they’re really kind of
cool. In other words, just remember this is a comedy
you’re writing!

• Your World and its Settings—You need to explain

your comedic world and how it works. Taffy’s reindeer
world is, for example, Icelandic but not North Pole-ian.
She is not a Christmas reindeer but could dream of
being one some day. She goes to reindeer school and
lives in a cul-de-sac. All the buildings are humanesque.
Her mom and dad drive SUVs, that sort of thing. The
most powerful way to describe these settings is to
simply include finished artwork.

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• Springboards with an “in a typical episode”
explanation—Every springboard section should open
with some copy that explains what happens in a typical
episode. Some series have one kind of episode only,
others have three kinds or “A” and “B” plots. So, for
Taffy’s series, she might have episodes that start off
with her emotions getting out of hand, others start off
with her interested in something and ignoring reality,
and still others might start with her determined to turn
someone into a super hobby lover. If you skipped the
chapter on Springboards, head back there for more
explanation.

• Your Contact Information (please, please don’t forget

this!) —Need I say more? Include your name,
company name, your phone numbers and your email.
Don’t! I mean, don’t include the Facebook site you’ve
made for your potential series or its website. Do
include a Vimeo address and password if you have
some great animation that shows off your series.

Other stuff not to include: examples of backpacks

with your character’s face on them—networks have a
deep and broad understanding of licensing and

66
merchandising. They don’t need you to tell them the
basics. Don’t include a bio, unless you have some
major credits; then a short bio is cool to include.
Some other notes: It’s always great to pepper your
entire document with snippets of dialogue, so your
buyer begins to get a feel for how your hero talks. And,
concerning character design, before you finalize the
look of your entire cast, put them in a horizontal line-
up and turn off the color. You want to look at them in
silhouette to see if their shapes and sizes differ
significantly. You do not want your hero and his
sidekick to both have round shapes. If one is round,
then the other should be, for example, tall and thin.
Opposites really do attract —in animation anyway.

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 Secret # 5
How Not To Blow It
in a Pitch Meeting
At a television market a few years ago, I was pitched
two projects about monkeys —both within an hour of
each other. Hollywood is ripe with accidental copy-cat
stories like this. It just happens. It’s almost like
something’s in the air, like the “copy-cat flu” —people
just come up with similar great ideas (and bad ideas) at
the same time.
To avoid pitching a concept that is similar to a
concept a network already has on air, or a studio is
already producing, you have to do your research. I
know this sounds like ridiculously simplistic advice,
but many artists don’t take the time to learn about the

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channel they’re pitching to by: 1) actually watching the
channel; and 2) Wikipedia-ing their former shows.
Unless you’re entrenched in the industry gossip
train, it’s pretty hard to find out what show concepts
are in development until you’re in the room pitching
and a buyer tells you. But, bringing in a show that is
like a show in development is not a crime—in fact it
can be pretty informative (“Wow! My idea is as good
as the one they bought. Next time, I’ll get here first!).
Bringing in a show that mirrors one a network already
has on air, or has formerly aired, is a major crime.
(Big side note here: A lesser crime is pitching a
show with “elements” of a show on air. For example, I
once pitched an action show to Cartoon Network that
featured a kid who could control time with a watch on
his wrist. Ben Ten was their number one show then and
Ben had a watch-like device called an Omnitrix that
allowed him to turn into various alien heroes. Oops.
Our show was so totally different. It was a comedy-
adventure for one thing, but it was also about this kid
who gets sucked back to Aztec times and ends up in
charge of this goofy A-Team-esque group of animal
gods, gods who would much rather play ball than kick
butt. Anyway, it was the watch-like object that did us

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in. Big oddball side note number two: We did change
the watch to a cube and eventually sold the show to
into development with Cartoon Network Europe. After
three years it died, but hey, just shows to go ya, we can
all learn from our mistakes!)
To keep on top of shows in production, and even
sometimes shows in development, subscribe to the
following outlets or to their daily e-mails: Animation
Magazine (FYI, I used to publish this wonderful trade);
Kidscreen and Animation World Network. I also get
daily emails from Animation Scoop, Cynopsis Media,
World Screen News, and C21Media.

Read this stuff. I mean it!

So, anyway, back to pitching. Here is the first and

most important secret to a great pitch meeting. Your
goal is bigger than a sale. Of course a sale would be
nice, but unless you’re meeting with the SVP of
Original Series who just got an okay from the president
of the network to buy twenty new shows (note that this
has never actually happened), no development exec
worth his or her job is going to buy your show on the
spot. Your concept and materials, along with your

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buyer’s enthusiasm, are going to have to sell your
show up the ladder to the top-tier execs and around the
world to the networks sister channels.
Considering all the eyes that have to examine your
materials, and how long this process takes, chances are
you won’t have a clear yes or no on your project before
you’re ready to pitch the next property you have in
development. So, it is vital that you make a really good
impression and ask to come back soon. Get to know
your exec’s assistant and befriend him or her, so that
your pitch appointments will be a priority.
One thing I love to hear from buyers is: “Rita, I
always like it when you come in to see me because you
have such a unique eye for design.” Comments like
that are gold. It means this buyer’s door is always
open, and, as long as I keep delivering interesting
properties that are well thought out and well designed,
I can keep coming back.
You need to be the “good meeting” in a
development exec’s daily grind. He or she will spend
more time with you, sometimes want to meet you for
coffee outside the office, and ultimately, build a
friendship that can last for years—a friendship that will
withstand the ups and downs of both your careers.

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 Still, no matter how charming you are, you still have
to explain (i.e., pitch) your idea, and that can process
can nerve-racking. Of course, you should practice your
pitch, but you also want to leave room for spontaneity
because who the heck knows what that exec is going to
ask you.
I’ve been in the room with a major exec, pitched a
solid comedy, and out of the blue was asked if I might
just happen to have a soccer show set in space. I kid
you not. And if you wonder how I answered that
question, here’s what I said: “Ah, no, but I can bring
you one next week!”
You have to have a certain level of composure, a
certain level of calm, so you can think on your feet.
You also can’t “read” your pitch from your bible.
That’s really off-putting and un-pro. You should know
your pitch so well that you don’t need any prompts.
You can flip through pages of the bible to show off
character designs as you talk, but don’t get sucked in
and read it. That’s a no no.
So after some talk about the weather, kids, and
comic books, it should move easily into something like
this:

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 “Okay, so I came up with this sweet little heroine.
She’s quirky—she collects moss. She’s really
rambunctious and breaks into a lot of interpretive
dances. She says things like “Wow! Pow! Wow!”
when she’s super excited about stuff. She loves her
little sister, but isn’t totally thrilled by her burnt food
collection (cause it’s not a moss collection), she cries
when she sees cute stuff, and…. she’s a reindeer.”

Then sort of take a breath and see if your buyer is

checking his or her phone or is really listening. If
she’s texting you might say, “So, am I kind of on the
right track?”
Usually that’s where she’ll break in with, “I don’t do
reindeer. Too Christmas-y.” Or with, “Yeah, I’m liking
the comedy. Who else is in the cast?” And then you
can dig into other details about characters, setting, etc.
But don’t think, at this point, you’re getting out of
the room without explaining what happens in a typical
episode. The least favorite, but most important part of
your pitch, is explaining how your hero creates chaos
and then puts things back together. Just practice it and
you’ll be fine.

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 Side note. If you have some amazing animation—for
gosh sakes, show it! If you have a 2-minute “trailer”
for your series, just show that first, then show off the
bible. I rarely have animation—simply because it costs
so much—but if you’re working with an artist who can
whip out even thirty seconds of animation that really
shows off your hero and the world—that is golden. It’s
worth more than your bible. Bad news is, the buyer is
probably still gonna ask for written materials. Why?
Because the buyer wants to make sure you’re funny
and that the clip wasn’t just a one-off.
If your buyer likes what you’ve shown her, she’ll
ask you to email your bible (and link to your clip). And
then… you get to wait (many months sometimes) for
an answer.
In the meantime, you should start this entire process
all over again, so you can pitch your next great idea.

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 Secret # 6
Get Tough and Put Your Big
Girl (or Boy) Pants On
So, as you’ve probably gathered, this book is
literally my “development dump.” This is me, sitting
across from you, at a Starbucks, telling you everything
I know about developing an animated TV comedy for
kids, in the most efficient, no nonsense manner I can.
Because, to be honest, you’re running out of time!
If you’re an independent and you’re super lucky you
can probably get between one to three shows produced
in a decade.
How many decades do you have left? I’m serious
here! Don’t waste time. Get on this! If you want to sell
a show, then turn off the television, put down that

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drink, and get to work. (Okay, you can watch cartoons
of course, but only after you’re done with your
development work for the day. Sorry. Tough love.)
Here’s the super-hard truth. Developing and
producing shows takes time. They take a long time to
develop. They take a long time to sell. Show contracts
take a really long time to negotiate—between six
months and a year, if you’re lucky. In fact, when the
business affairs offices of a studio get backed up, it can
even take months just to get your deal memo. (Imagine
how many contracts Disney’s business affairs office
has to deal with every day. Oof.)
Then, when you finish negotiations and sign your
contract, you’ll get to redevelop your show with your
new partner—either a network or an indie producer,
which takes between six to eighteen months because
now more people are involved and everyone wants to
put a stamp on your property.
Finally, if you do get that blessed greenlight, the
production of the show itself is going to take a couple
of years to complete.

That’s a long time.

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 I meet a lot of artists and writers who think I’m off
my rocker when I lay all this out for them. “But, it will
be different with my show,” they say. They think
they’re special; that they’re the exception to the rule.
They think their brand of creativity puts them above it
all—that they’ve got such a great show concept that it
will immediately get greenlit and put into production.

Ahhhh… that ain’t gonna happen.

And here’s why:

Hollywood is a fear-based industry. Remember that

and you’ll save yourself tons of heartbreak. Well,
you’re going to get the heartbreak, it comes with the
territory, but at least you’ll know what you’re up
against.
It’s a huge investment to finance a television show
and no one wants to be the exec that greenlit a flop. No
one, but no one, is going to put a show into production
without knowing that sister channels around the globe
are interested in it too. Nickelodeon wants a show that
works on Nick channels in North and South America,

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in Europe, in the Middle East, in India, in Africa, in
Asia and in Asia Pacific.
They also want reassurance that the target audience,
kids ages 6-to-11, actually think it’s funny. So, they
want to test your pilot with kids—not just their fellow
execs.
No one is above the system. Even Spielberg has to
work to get his films financed. (Sorry, I just heard that
on NPR so felt like throwing it in. I mean, who knew?)
And, animation production for television is not a
one-person job. If you haven’t worked in the industry
you may have dreams of making your show yourself
and keeping it home grown. But, unless you have $6-8
million lying around, that just ain’t gonna happen
either.
Sure you can make a YouTube short series and
maybe do pretty well financially if it takes off, but
what I’m talking about is one season of a comedy that
airs on television; i.e., fifty-two 11-minute cartoons,
that, when strung together make twenty-six, 22-
minuters.
I’m talking the big time.
And to make a show like this, you need a ton of
people. You need a pre-production studio that’s in

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charge of everything from character, prop and
environment designs, to scripts, voice-overs,
storyboards, and animatics. (Animatics are storyboards
edited to the voice-over sound track that often include
temp music and sound effects.) Typically that studio
employs between ten to fifty or more people depending
on the demands of its pipeline to complete this work.
Then there’s the production house, which is often
(but not always) located in an emerging economy
where labor costs are substantially less than first-
world. This production house will have hundreds of
employees.
In general, post-production is either completed by
the pre-pro house or another first world partner with
maybe twenty or so personnel.
So, if you start adding up the number of people who
work on your production, from soup to nuts, you get up
to or over three to five hundred pretty fast. In other
words, television animation is an expensive, labor-
intensive, extremely stressful, high-risk undertaking.
Don’t get into this world if you don’t have the cool
stealth of a Batman, the ability to let the bad stuff slide
off your back like Huckleberry Hound, or the
wonderful obliviously positive nature of Mr.

79
Incredible. I’m serious, you have to have a cool head, a
salesman-like ability to disguise your stress, and a
politician’s ability to turn lemons into lemonade.
Otherwise, you’re just gonna meltdown. (And
meltdown I have my friend—meltdown I have.)
So, what’s the secret to staying tough, to keeping
going when you’ve heard “no” a hundred times and
still haven’t sold your show? Here ya go, I have two
secrets:

• Be open-minded and self-analyze. Maybe this

particular show isn’t going to sell. (And that’s okay
because you’ve got more great ideas.) When that buyer
told you your show was “interesting” and to “send it
along,” what he probably meant was, “this is so going
in the slush pile.” If a buyer is truly interested, you’ll
know it because you’ll be given creative feedback—
real suggestions on how to improve what you have so
it will work for his network. Then you’ll be asked to
come back and show off your updated work. Score!
So, I’m just saying you need to read between the
lines. You have to be an adult to deal with rejection,
but you have to be an even bigger adult to deal with the

80
fact that your work isn’t up to par—and then learn and
act based on that intel.
Take the “non-feedback” you are getting time and
time again from buyers and ask for help. Seek out
advice from a professional who isn’t afraid to take you
down a notch. You need someone in your corner who
will tell you, “Yeah, it’s a fun idea but your ideas are
old school, and not in a good way.” Or “Your designs
are awesome, but Cartoon Network had a show just
like this three years ago. Don’t you watch TV??”
Your head will probably boil over for a moment, but
hopefully you’ll thank your new creative mentor. And
you’ll either fix what’s wrong with your project or
you’ll move onto idea number two and eventually to
idea number thirty. And, if you’re not willing to do that
kind of hard work, then, seriously, throw in the towel.
You’re not ready for this industry.

• Enjoy the “No.” “No” is what you hear every day as

a show developer. Even when you get a yes, it has a
“no” buried in it somewhere—and that somewhere is
usually something untenable in the deal memo. “No” is
your stock in trade. “No” just means you have to try

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harder, to pick yourself up and try it again, until you
get that ultimate yes (with the “no” buried in it).
As long as your property is getting meaningful
positive feedback such as, “We really love this show,
but wish the sidekick wasn’t a radish because we have
a radish in another show in development”—then just
keep at it, and throw in a banana (different shape, and
it’s a fruit).
If you’re doing your job right, within every “no”
there is also a yes. Buyers who have seriously
considered your property don’t like to say no. They
don’t want to make that call. They feel like crap
because they like you—they believe in you and they
want you to bring them your next ten shows (instead of
taking it to the competition). So the “yes” in that “no”
is an open door with that buyer. Quick, develop
something new, and get back in there!
All that to say, you have to come up with new ideas
all the time—and by “all the time” I mean “every day.”
Make it an exercise. You work out don’t you? You
should work out your “show creation” muscle as much
as your body. Always Create. Never stop coming up
with new show ideas. If you only have one show idea,
then you only have one show to sell.

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 Remember the odds I gave you in my opening
paragraph? Make the odds work for you, not against
you.

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 Secret # 7
Shows for 6-11 Year-Olds are
the Easiest to Sell

I make animated kids comedies because I love them

(and because I have the heart and mind of a seven-year
old). I also make animated kids’ comedies for 6-11
year-olds because, to be brutally honest, my best
chance for a sale is in this age demographic.
Okay, that doesn’t mean that animated series are
ever easy to sell—they’re actually about as easy to sell
as winning the Kentucky Derby—but comedies for 6-
11 year-olds have more market demand than series for
preschoolers, action-adventure shows for 6-11 year-
olds, or primetime series for adults.

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 Here’s why: Preschoolers age out of their viewing
demographic quickly and preschoolers don’t care if
they’re watching a new show or one that was made
twenty years ago. So there’s a ton of old and new
preschool content on the market for networks to run.
To be specific, most preschool shows are for two-to-
five year-old kids. But, there is an emerging market for
what is currently called “Preschool Plus.” This is
content for kids ages four to seven, but this market is
only just now starting to gain traction.
Little kids watch preschool shows for only a couple
of years before moving on to older kids’ shows like
Wonder Over Yonder. The target age for 6-11
comedies is seven year-olds; however, five and six
year-olds will watch SpongeBob, and even though they
don’t want to admit it, twelve and thirteen year-olds
“nostalgia watch” animation as well. (You remember
that feeling? When you’re a tween, you want to be
treated like an adult and a kid at the same time. You
want adults to respect you, but you also secretly want
them to cuddle you. Cartoons provide a little of that
cuddle feeling for older kids.) All that to say, there’s a
bigger audience for 6-11 comedies, simply because
there are more available eyeballs to watch them. It’s

85
simply a bigger slice of the viewing pie. Oh, and these
kids don’t want old shows. They want new stuff and
the new toys that these shows are advertisements for.
(Yeah, just dropped another little secret there.
Business-wise, cartoons are really just commercials for
licensing and merchandise. That’s because, as a
producer, you can’t make your money back selling
your series to television stations around the world.
Stations don’t pay as much in licensing fees as they
used to, so there is always going to be a budget deficit
and that deficit has to be met with funds earned
through licensing and merchandising deals.)
At the moment, action adventure shows are tougher
to sell than preschool. Think about it, if you owned
Star Wars and Marvel (as Disney does), why would
you buy an original idea with no track record?
(Remember, Hollywood and the entertainment industry
are risk adverse. That’s why there are so many sequels.
Original ideas are like gold that’s too dangerous to
touch.)
At the moment, there are way too many powerful
action brands being leveraged for the industry to
breathe. To win in this suffocating arena, you have to
come up with an action show that is character-based

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but also has an ingenious toy concept driving it. And
by ingenious, I mean something that looks familiar but
is still brand new —like a Bakugan. (Just a side note
that as of this writing, girls’ action shows seem to be
making a wee bit of traction—thank heavens!)
And for those of you new to toy engineering vs.
marketing and licensing, a toy that “does something” is
what networks want. They don’t want you to come into
a pitch and say, “Look, you can make this character
into a plush toy and make millions! Isn’t that clever?”
As I explained earlier, networks know this. They know
how to put images on T-shirts and turn characters into
plush toys. This is their daily bread. What they need is
a mechanical object that transforms, drives, or has a
new play pattern (i.e., how kids interact with and use
the toy) that will speak to their audience and enhance
the life mission of the series’ hero.
They want the Triple Crown of Cartoons—an
amazing series, with a remarkable hero with an
ingenious new toy.
As for primetime comedies, there just isn’t that
much shelf-space for this content. You’ve got a few
timeslots on Comedy Central, Fox, Cartoon Network’s
[adult swim] block, FX, and, recently, the Sundance

87
Channel, but that is a small amount of programming
compared to the twenty-four hour doses of kids’
animated programming on Nickelodeon, Disney
Channel, Disney XD, and Cartoon Network.
That said, if you like comedy and have zany ideas,
6-11 programming is probably for you.

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 Finally
Some More Junk About
Me…And More Advice

I’m so glad you’ve read my little opus. Thanks tons!

I really do hope you come up with a great show, sell it,
and that it moves into production. Maybe there’s even
an Emmy waiting out there in the future for you!
That’s my dream for you anyway.
As a further means of inspiration, I’m gonna tell you
my story. It’s winding and weird and unconventional,
which I hope makes it more helpful. Because you can
always think, “Wow, if she made it this far against
those wacky odds, I bet I can too!”

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 I started my love affair with cartoons, characters,
and design almost at birth. My Dad handed me an
Uncle Scrooge comic while I was still in diapers and
that, was that. From then on, I was destined to be a
character-based nutcase.
I love cartoons. Cartoons take the real world and
turn it on its head. Cartoons do the things that live
action can’t—with ease. Cartoons show us the meaning
of life, and even when they break our hearts, they put
us back together again well before the credits roll,
through the power and beauty of laughter.
Cartoons are anti-art, for arts’ sake. They are a
commercial venture disguised as high art. They are
peculiar, loveable, often indefinable and magical.
Cartoons are our ego and id running amuck, hand-in-
hand, in a field of flower-filled gopher holes.

In short, cartoons rock.

So, anyway…I grew up copying characters from

Walt Disney Comics and Stories and Archie Comics,
teaching myself how to draw. One Christmas, my
parents gave me The Illusion of Life: Disney Animation
by the animation legends Frank Thomas and Ollie

90
Johnston, and I vowed to draw every image from that
amazing tome. Of course, that didn’t happen, not just
because it was a Herculean challenge, but because the
book was too much darn fun to read.
While I was trying to copy the work of these
masters, I imagined myself working alongside the Nine
Old Men as they figured out how to draw in a manner
that would become the celebrated “Disney Style.” That
exploratory process was arduous and frustrating and
wonder-filled. It was also bolstered by a fair heaping of
pranks and musicmaking—two pastimes that continue
to flourish in great animation studios to this day.
I really wanted to be an animator, but when it came
time to apply to the California Institute of the Arts, I
wimped. I mean, I really wimped. My parents were in
the middle of a divorce and we were broke. I didn’t
have a mentor telling me to go for it, so I didn’t even
try to get a scholarship.
(By the way, I can’t say how important mentors are.
One of my mentors ultimately turned out to be the
super enabler of animated series, Fred Seibert, best
known as the executive producer of Adventure Time
and The Fairly OddParents. In terms of mentors, I
totally scored.)

91
 The dream of attending CalArts was just too big for
me. I couldn’t face it. (Now, when I meet student
animators who have a dream, I tell them “Don’t
wimp—you’re young, just go for it. Somehow it will
all work out.”)
Anyway, instead of CalArts animation, I jumped
into the next crazy thing I was attracted to—I jumped
into acting. I was so messed up from all of our family
troubles (our family didn’t just break up, we had to
walk away from my childhood home, my horses, our
pets—everything; we lost it all), that stepping into the
lives of other characters felt really good. In fact, it felt
safe.
I kept drawing and painting, and somewhere in the
back of my mind realized that acting—as Frank and
Ollie explain—is the most important secret of truly
great animation. The ability to breathe life into a
character and make it your own is the art of the cartoon
and the illusion of life.
So whether it felt like it or not, even during my years
in community theatre, I was evolving my craft as a
future developer of animated TV series. I did
eventually earn a degree in theatre and learned even

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more about developing a full-fledged character through
playwriting.
I often tell animation students that they should not
only take acting classes to learn how to “become” a
character, but to break down a scene. Whether a series
is scripted or boarded, the written word and the
interpretation of the written word is essential to the
craft. The more you know about what’s not being said
and actually being shown in a scene, the more
successful you will be as a filmmaker.
Plus, if you really want to develop scripts or work as
a development exec you have to read—a lot. In college
I probably read about 300 amazingly wonderful plays,
from Shakespeare to surrealism, I absorbed it all. Then,
my first job after college was working as a receptionist
at an indie film distribution studio. There I got to read,
literally, a hundred or so movie scripts for live action.
And, let me tell you, after reading classics and moving
on to coverage for scripts written by Joe Schmo, I was
in shock. Most scripts suck. I mean really suck. Even
scripts that come from agents or managers. You can
usually tell if a script is a loser in the first five pages.
And, if you can’t tell that, go back and read three
hundred classic plays.

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 All that reading definitely served me well because I
learned things like: What makes good dialogue? Good
dialogue is usually very short and isn’t always
grammatically correct. People don’t typically speak in
full sentences, and they rarely speak succinctly.
Anyway, I ramble on…After my stint at the live
action film distribution company I was lucky enough to
land a job at Expanded Entertainment, a film
distribution company for feature-length compilations
of animated shorts. Founded by Terry Thoren, who
later went on to run Klasky-Csupo (Rugrats, The Wild
Thornberrys), during its heyday, this innovative and
feisty independent distributed the lovely Animation
Celebrations, the International Tournees of Animation
and the Outrageous Animation movies.
Expanded was a madcap, wonderful place, located in
a Santa Monica, California, back alley. The entrance,
which was literally cut into an aluminum garage door,
looked like the home of a less than successful
mechanic. But, walk through that squeaky frame, and
your world changed. Shelves were lined with books on
animation and banks of films in cans. Posters from
successful theatre runs added blazing color to the
walls. And here and there and everywhere were toys.

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 Working at Expanded was like an electrical charge.
We were little, and we were trying to conquer the
world, or at least trying to make it a slightly better
place through the power of animation. Plus, we liked to
have drinking parties on Fridays.
During the early ’90s, when Hollywood thought of
animation as just an ugly stepchild of live action (even
after the success of Disney’s The Little Mermaid),
Terry put animation on a pedestal. But Disney’s hit
was just one storyline; we were offering fifteen to
twenty shorts in one movie from all around the globe
and showcasing all shapes, colors, and forms of
animation. From painting on glass to stop-motion, from
raunchy comedies to heartbreaking dramas, we had it
all.
We were the first company to distribute Frog
Baseball, the original Beavis & Butt-Head short and
the first to showcase Aardman Animations’ Academy
award-winning short Creature Comforts.
My few years with Expanded were eye-openers. I’d
grown up on Disney animation, and was convinced that
the pinnacle of the art was either Jungle Book or
Fantasia. To be introduced to cartoons from Eastern
Europe, Africa, South America, or the nutty wonderful

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works of Canada’s National Film Board, was like
walking into a new kind of nirvana.
I swear, Frédéric Back’s Academy award-winning
film, The Man Who Planted Trees, changed my life. If
you haven’t watched it, really, stop reading right now,
go to YouTube and check it out. It will change your
life, too.
Speaking of watching cartoons, I want to impress
upon you how vitally important it is to look back at the
history of animation and character design. To know
what styles of design have succeeded in the past and to
use this knowledge to develop your own sense of
animated style and storytelling is a formula for success.
In order to learn any skill, you have to study the
masters, and the skill of inventing great cartoons is no
different. And, it’s not like this is hard work. If you
haven’t seen a black and white Popeye the Sailor,
you’re in for a literal smack down of comedy ecstasy.
And, if you need animation history guidance, I
strongly suggest you buy Leonard Maltin’s Of Mice
and Magic, any of John Canemaker’s lovely books on
Disney animation, and all of Jerry Beck’s Warner
Bros. animation histories.

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 Later I went on to publish Terry Thoren’s other
entrepreneurial venture, Animation Magazine. Working
for Terry, and later for his wonderful wife Jean Thoren
who publishes the magazine today, was a real treat.
Sure it was hard—publishing a magazine is the purest
example of Murphy’s Law that I can think of (from
printing presses breaking to advertisers pulling out at
the final hour)—but it’s also exciting. Working for the
magazine I got to travel the world. We attended
television markets in France twice a year; I even got to
go to New Zealand for the very first screening of The
Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. (To use Inside
Out speak, that was definitely a core memory!)
Over the years I got to meet global players, from
famous animators to indie producers to network execs,
and during interviews with these amazing folks I
learned the ins and outs of the animation production
business. I quickly learned that animation is
exponentially more difficult than publishing, but not
totally dissimilar. I also learned that a lot of companies
outside the U.S. were interested in selling concepts into
the U.S.
At the same time, something special happened to
me. I discovered a character I thought I could turn into

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a television show. I was in New York for Toy Fair and
a blizzard hit. I don’t mean a snowstorm, I mean a full-
on blizzard that pretty much shut the whole city down.
The first morning of the Fair, I naïvely struggled
toward the shuttle stop near my hotel and waited in
knee-deep snow for a ride to the convention center.
No one was driving. I mean the streets were empty.
And there was kind of a low-lying fog. So, when the
bus for the Fair actually emerged (and skidded toward
me) it was a bit like a scene from a horror movie. Was
I going to die on this bus or be the only one stupid
enough to actually go to Toy Fair. Well, I survived the
bus ride (I was the only passenger) and was almost the
only one at the convention.
It was a pretty fantastic moment. It felt like it was
just me and a whole land of toys! I walked the halls in
awe, until I came across the Nakajima booth that
happened to have a wall of Hello Kitty key chains:
Hello Kitty cowgirl, Hello Kitty nurse, Hello Kitty
Tiger Costume. I stopped in my tracks. It was like I
was drawn into that booth by an invisible force.
And, there, just past the wall of Hello Kittys, was a
little display of a plush doll named Ruby Gloom. I was
smitten. She was a kind of a Goth Betty Boop, and

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with her pouty attitude and high heels, she was a total
personality. I asked the only worker I could find about
the owners of Ruby Gloom, and she told me that
Nakajima licensed the rights to make a plush toy of
Ruby from the creators in Los Angeles, a T-shirt
company called Mighty Fine. (Today Mighty Fine
makes all the cool Adventure Time and Cartoon
Hangover T’s: welovefine.com.)
Anyway, I contacted Mighty Fine and asked if we
could develop Ruby into a TV show concept. Now one
thing development execs will tell you is: never develop
a character from a T-shirt property. But, we did it, and
we sold Ruby to the powerful Canadian production
company Nelvana, and they, in turn, sold the property
to Canadian broadcaster YTV. Ruby sold all over the
world, except in the United States, because she was “a
girls’ show.” Ughhh! Makes me crazy. But, you can
now find two seasons of Ruby Gloom on Netflix and
Amazon.
Another side note, I can’t thank the creative geniuses
at Mighty Fine enough for working with me to bring
Ruby Gloom to TV. Thank you to Ruby’s creator,
Stacey Kitchin, as well as her partners Guy Brand and
Patty Timsawat. And, of course, our legal council Ken

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Dusick who continues to help and protect me as I make
development deals to this day.
After my success selling Ruby I started my own
company called Radar Cartoons. As a consultant and
executive producer I helped companies in Asia, New
Zealand and Europe sell shows to networks and into
global co-production deals. My next big series was
from Taiwan, a property from Gamania Entertainment
called Hero:108 that ran on Cartoon Network globally.
After that was a series from Anima Estudios in Mexico
that ran on the former Hub channel called Teenage
Fairytale Dropouts. And, I just finished up a fun gig as
a creative producer for Flying Bark Productions in
Australia on a revamp of the classic series, Blinky Bill.
Happily, I also have several shows in development
with studios and production houses.
Oh gosh, and I need to mention the first series I ever
produced for Fred Seibert and Eric Homan of
Frederator, The Nicktoons Network Animation Festival,
which was an on-air juried compilation series that I
worked on for two years. So fun to work with Eric
reviewing shorts from around the world!

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 Along the way, I founded the non-profit organization
Women in Animation (womeninanimation.org) and
have taught classes on development around the world.
Like you, I spend every day relearning how to
develop a great hero and how to sell a new show. I
practice coming up with show ideas and writing those
horrifying springboards almost every day.
I also spend a lot of my time researching great
character design artists, as I also like to partner with
artists I admire in order to develop new shows
together.
If you would like me to check out your property, or
if you would like me to consult for your company,
please contact me at: rita@radarcartoons.com, +1-818-
657-9229.
Or, if you just need a bit of encouragement, please
feel to reach out. It may take me awhile to respond, but
I will do my best to drop you a line.

Now you go, you brave, awesome creative nutball

you!
Go write and sell your show!

Your Pal Rita

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 This book is dedicated to:

My wonderful, talented, musician husband, Gayle Ellett.

I couldn’t love you more. When I took you to the Ottawa
Animation Fest and you said, “What? We get to drink beer and
watch cartoons?” I knew we were the perfect match.

And to my animation mentors, Terry Thoren & Fred Seibert.

Thanks for helping me build the career of my dreams. I wouldn’t
be where I am without you!

Thank You To My Editors: John Hardman, Jan Nagel, Grant

Mueller, Roberta Street & Gayle Ellett

And To The Amazing Illustrator and Comic Book Artist:

Ryan Cecil Smith

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