Netflix released the sixth season of Schitt’s Creek last week, which means those of us outside Canada can enjoy the resolution of the Rose family’s travails and misadventures.
I’m sad that this gem of a comedy show is over, but I was generally happy with the way things wrapped up. With this in mind, I thought, ‘What better way to honor Eugene and Dan Levy than by turning their hard work into a pithy, topical blog post about the creative writing process?’
(I’m sure you’d agree, gentlemen!)
Without further ado, here are seven of the writing lessons we can glean from Schitt’s Creek.
Okay, one last piece of ado: I tried my darnedest to avoid spoilers here, but there is one. I buried it in the middle so that you wouldn’t get the SC equivalent of “Darth Vader is Luke’s father” right off the bat. Understand that you continue reading at your own peril. Source: Wikimedia Commons.
Writing Lesson #1: Create Structure AND Flow with Plot Points.
Let’s start with something of an obvious softball. If there are natural dividing points in your book (e.g., chapters) or series (e.g., installments), structure each unit around one specific plot point. However, you should also make sure these units flow into each other by virtue of braiding each new plot point into the one(s) that came before it, whether by cause and effect, continuity, reversal, or another storytelling technique. Otherwise, you risk your chapters or books being episodic, which makes it difficult to invest reader interest in character development, much less character transformation.
The show’s six seasons each seem to center on one major plot with smaller subplots supporting them. In the first season, for instance, we have a classic “fish out of water” scenario as the Roses get used to living in the town of Schitt’s Creek, not to mention the less than appealing Rosebud Motel.
However, notice that this storyline connects to the major stories of other seasons so that they can all build into a major story arc and earn a continually bigger payoff as they do so. Think, for instance, of the cause and effect of David’s storylines along the way. There are distinct links in the chain that go from him arriving in town, to starting a business, to meeting Patrick, all the way through to the end. (It is interesting to note that some of the links in this chain begin as subplots; who’d have thought “David attempts to start a business” would be the item that unlocked his end game?)
Especially if you’re writing a planned series, you should strive to have such continuity among your installments as well. To succeed, have at least a rough outline of all installments early in the process, ideally as you begin your first book. This can change, but it’s easier to find continuity if you acknowledge that your project is a series (see what I did there?) of interlocking pieces right from the start.
Writing Lesson #2: Memorable Characters Often Win Out Over Memorable Plot Lines.
Memorable characters can do mundane things and still fascinate audiences. Case in point: Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk. Other case in point: I could watch Moira Rose deposit a check at the bank or figure out to how to fold in cheese five times a day. Meanwhile, if a plot is ridiculous and doesn’t have the characters to back it up, it can fall flat quickly. Can we all agree that the Crows Have Eyes 3 subplot could have really jumped the shark if Moira weren’t in the middle of it?
This is inescapably true of the types of novels I tend to edit, like women’s fiction and historical fiction, but I submit to you that this is true of thrillers and other plot-heavy genres too. If your gumshoe detective is two-dimensional, a Dashiell Hammett rip-off instead of a breath of fresh air just as Philip Marlowe was for his time, then just call me Ariana Grande, because I’mma thank you, next.
Writing Lesson #3: Don’t Skimp on Character Development.
How you develop character sketches into memorable people counts too!
In the all-too-brief documentary special Best Wishes, Warmest Regards, Dan Levy discusses the character development process he and his father, Eugene Levy, underwent before even writing the pilot for their show. They’d been at it for a while, and he asked if they could move ahead. Eugene essentially said, “No. Until we know everything about these people, we are not done.”
Writing Lesson #4: How to Address Social Justice Issues with Grace.
Schitt’s Creek, like any piece of pop culture, is not perfect. We may find things to criticize in twenty years, as young folks are doing now with Friends, or even today. (I think, for instance, of the meager representation of Black people and people of color on the show.) However, at least through the lens of normalizing same-sex relationships, this show excels.
Thus, lesson the fourth: Sometimes the most powerful representation comes from normalizing an identity, not making a statement about it. Think about the heavy-handedness of every lesson learned on Glee versus the sleek sophistication of “I’m into the wine, not the label.” Perhaps we needed Ryan Murphy’s over-the-top concepts before we could see through Dan Levy’s sleek, horn-rimmed glasses, but we have come a long way. Queer characters can have storylines that are not just about their identity; they can have happily ever afters. So can characters of color; so can disabled characters; and so on.
Writing Lesson #5: Not Every Story Needs a, Um, Happy Ending to Be Rewarding.
Okay, here comes the spoiler. In season six, despite their best efforts at a long-distance relationship, Alexis and her on-again, off-again sweetie Ted can make neither the time difference between Schitt’s Creek and the Galápagos Islands nor their conflicting professional goals work. Despite still being in love, they have to end their relationship.
What if this hadn’t been the end of their relationship? Consider if, in addition to Patrick and David ending up happily ever after and all the other things that happen for the Rose family in the last season (Lips are zipped! I promised I’d only share one spoiler!), Alexis and Ted somehow made things work? That series finale would feel awfully one-note, wouldn’t it? In fact, it might feel a little contrived or tacked on if Alexis found a way to make a public relations business work from a remote archipelago.
Though Alexis doesn’t get the guy she wants, she gets the plot resolution she needs. I like to call this the Mick Jagger Theorem. Greg Daniels, creator of heartfelt shows like King of the Hill and The Office, also ascribes to it, which I hope provides further support that this sort of resolution can feel more realistic and better earned for the audience than if the character gets exactly what they wanted at the beginning of their journey.
Writing Lesson #6: It’s Okay to Be Midlist/A Sleeper Hit.
These last two points are less about the practice of writing and more about the writing life, about writing at the intersection of art and business.
Up until 2018, Schitt’s Creek wasn’t a widely known show. Then, seemingly overnight—I’m guessing around the time Patrick Brewer crooned “You’re Simply the Best” to David Rose—it blew up in popularity.
Would Dan and Eugene Levy have kept writing the show if they hadn’t reached this level of notoriety? Well, up to a point. (See lesson #7 below.) They were having a blast working together and doing what they loved. You should keep writing because you’re working on a project you love, not solely because you hope one day an agent or a critic or a hundred million screaming fans will love it.
Writing Lesson #7: Know When to Stop.
Could the Levys have continued cranking out seasons until pop culture outlets like Vulture were publishing headlines like “Is Schitt’s Creek Washed Up”? Sure, creators do it all the time, but this father-son creative team didn’t. Instead of waiting for their network to put them on the chopping block, they found a way to neatly resolve all storylines in six lovely seasons, and they called it a day.
Knowing when to stop is one of the differences between the art of writing and the business of writing. You could keep querying a novel past the line that you’ve drawn in the sand as your limit, or you could take a beat, then move on to new projects that excite you. You could keep cashing checks on a popular concept until you’re no longer inspired, until the money dries up, or you could work on the projects you’re truly passionate about, which, in the end, I think, is what really keeps the cash coming.