Writing for Detective Television

Matthew McConaughey stares directly into the camera, almost melting it with the intensity of his gaze. He twirls cigarette smoke and a mystic nihilism with equal skill around his head, reminiscing about his chase (as Detective Rustin Cohle) of a cult of Devil worshippers across the bayous of Louisiana. His intensity, but perhaps not his charisma, is matched by Detective Elliot Stabler as he slams his fist down on the scarred and battered interrogation room table. The passion and mysticism of these two men is countered by the cool and scientific professionalism of Dana Scully, as she calmly refutes the existence of extraterrestrials to yet another crack pot. Despite having personally witnessed them countless times.

This eclectic bunch of men and women share a couple bonds. They are passionate, driven people, (although their motivations may differ) and they are all television detectives.  Like these characters, television shows about detectives and crime solving may have some differences, but they share things like a format, a narrative shape, character archetypes, and dialogue styles. These inherent similarities are called conventions. They are present in every detective show, and really in any genre, they are what make the genre what it is. Change too many of them, and suddenly you’re writing something totally different.

The plot of a detective show is usually pretty straightforward.  It starts with two introductions; the introduction of our protagonist, the detective, and the introduction of “the case.” The Case is what it is all about, or at least what will drive the narrative forward.  In today’s television usually the introduction of the case is handled with the discovery of a victim. The victim could be raped, or murdered, it doesn’t really matter which in this context, although a living rape victim can be an interesting addition to the character list, sometimes being truly helpful, sometimes providing a red herring or two. With this discovery, the protagonist is called in. Sometimes in the line of daily duty, sometimes as a special request, and sometimes as a very last resort. For instance in Nick Pizzolato’s “True Detective” Detectives Rustin Cohle and Martin Hart are called in over the course of normal business.  However intercutting with a flash forward interview sequence reveals that in the end, business would be anything but normal.  This is a way to add some interest and variety to an established convention of the genre.

Each of these options add something a little different to the story line, and thus serve as a microcosm of genre writing itself; twists on a theme, keeping the theme fairly fresh, but still giving audiences what they’ve come to expect, keeping them happy and docile in their comfortably met expectations. After our hero (or heroine) is called in, there’s one or two paths the show can take in regards to The Case. Path One: There is some strong evidence that points one way or another, it may not lead directly to the killer, but the detective thinks it may help them get closer. Path Two: There is no evidence and the detective is immediately stumped.  Either way, usually this is the point in the show where The Case is dropped for a moment, and some time is spent examining the personal life of our protagonist. As a general rule the personal life of our hero is shown to be depressingly non-existent, dysfunctional, a hot mess, or some combination of the three above.  The plot of the show then returns to The Case, and the audience follows the detective along, now a bit more sympathetic with his plight as a human, investing more in his struggles with The Case, and understanding more the personal significance that The Case may have to the detective.  This cycle repeats as the detective gets closer and closer to catching the perpetrator. Eventually the detective will get either A) very close to the actual perpetrator, or B) catch someone whom they believe is the perpetrator.  This will set them up for a great victory, only to feel the crushing disappointment of defeat, and the horror that knowing whoever committed the awful crime is still out there, perhaps creating more victims, perhaps getting farther and farther from the pathetic grasping of the detective.  It should be noted that the detective can catch the criminal at this point in the plotline, depending on the scale of the crimes and the TV series. If the series follows a “crime of the week” format, then usually there is no time for catching the wrong guy or close escapes.  However if this criminal is set up as some sort of arch villain, or the show is more of a “crime of the season” then there is more time for these sorts of plot devices, and in fact they are required so that the audience feels like the detective is getting somewhere, and at the same time it stretches the story to its full season length.  Shows like Chris Carter’s “The X-Files” and Dick Wolf’s “Law and Order: SVU” do a good job of blending these two styles, interspersing episodes that advance the season’s greater plot between the “crime of the week” episodes, this is a more advanced kind of convention, one that has grown over time from the rigid periodical vs serialized structure.

The plot is only a piece of a larger puzzle that makes up a show. The story that you’re writing must be populated with interesting and colorful characters that catch and hold your audiences interest.  To start with, you need your hero. Although typically masculine, sometimes the detectives in the game are female, like Dr. Dana Scully from “The X-Files”, who serves an inspiration for many young women who are interested in the sciences.  Detectives need something that set them apart from the regular human, that make them special and worthy of our attention. Sometimes this can be as simple as an intense drive, a passion for the work, or an extreme talent at the art of detection.  However in recent years, sometimes a quirk can substitute for one of these attributes. For example there have been psychic detectives, ocd detectives, and perhaps most entertaining, there have been detectives that are just plain jerks.  Rustin Cohle from True Detective is an example of one of those old style detectives with a layer of quirk on top. He has that intense passion and drive, but on top of that, he’s a jerk, and can “smell the psychosphere.”

These leading women and men would not be complete without a supporting cast, and that’s where “The Partner” steps in. Now The Partner doesn’t need to be an actual official police sidekick. The partner can be a boyfriend or girlfriend, a friend friend, or a dog. “Law and Order: SVU” has an interesting way of doing this, in that the show employs a sort of rotating background cast, bringing in a sidekick who is always sort of there to the fore of the story, depending on the needs of the episode.  An official police partner can be preferable however as they are easier to work into the story, and are better at holding a pistol than the dog is.  Now the hero has back up he or she needs a villain, someone to fight righteously (or underhandedly) against. It’s important to realize that you don’t need to figure out just who the villain is at the beginning of the story, just make the crimes unique enough that a picture of your criminal starts to develop. Call in a forensic psychologist or two if you really feel the need to bash your audience over the head with who or what the villain is/should be.  Note that you CAN establish the villain at the very beginning and even tell the audience how or why the crime was perpetrated, this just creates a different story that more closely follows how the detective handles the investigation, and how the criminal responds.

The actual scriptwriting for a detective series can be challenging, but as shows like CSI or NCIS have shown us, even that can be derived down to a formula. You don’t have to worry about your characters sounding like normal human beings with normal motivations because all they live for is the case or they’re “quirky”.  In addition you can just PILE ON technical jargon for half the episode if you so desire, flitting from a crime scene, to an autopsy lab, to a forensic anthropologist, to a psychiatrist, to a victims hospital room.  Your protagonist doesn’t even need to talk much, just nod and look interested at all the creative and useless technical language the “professionals” and you as a screenwriter are throwing at him.

Writing a detective piece isn’t very hard. There are literally thousands of books that follow the conventions, and hundreds of TV shows that do the same.  What IS difficult is creating something fresh in your writing. This is where a lot of “Big Networks” get into to trouble. They are so invested in having a show that everyone will like, that they stick to the above formula too much. They’re afraid to branch out, try something new, or turn the conventions on its head. This is not to say that a traditional Detective show can no longer function, or be exciting. It very much can be, but that requires a very high talent level from all involved. More often studios find it easier to just throw a superficial “quirk” into the mix, or to tie the show into a larger franchise, like Marvel is doing with “Agents of Shield” and DC Comics is trying to do with “Gotham”.  This technique is fan service in a way, but often it simply breaks down into really bad television.  Laziness like that is what you as a writer is trying to avoid.  Write a character as mysterious and engaging as Rustin Cohle in “True Detective”, a plot as engaging as the one Detective Stabler wrestles with in Law and Order SVU, and a series as game changing as the adventures of Dr. Dana Scully in the X-Files.  The conventions of the genre are there to help you find that creative spark, not to trap you in a set of hard rules that stifle you.  So pull your gun and your badge out of the desk drawer, it’s time to get to work.