Today’s Hollywood: Can Aspiring Screenwriters Still Make It?

After graduating from New York University - NYU Tisch School of the Arts, Maxine Sanseverino has been wisely navigating the post-grad screenwriting experience. 

She is a native New Yorker who grew up immersed in the storytelling world due to her upbringing as a child actress and her love for cult classics. 

Since high school, her dream has been to create authentic and character-driven stories. 

“When you think of New York, think of A24,” she says when illustrating the creative freedom of New York City and her desire to continue writing in her hometown. 

Up until this point, Sanseverino has done everything a screenwriter should do to kickstart a career —access a world class education, network with industry experts, craft an exemplary thesis, and attempt to bring their vision to life. Almost immediately after graduation, she also experienced the kind of heartbreaking and enraging shadiness Hollywood is so known for.

After agreeing to work with an independent director on her thesis film, Sanseverino was essentially left out of the project despite writing it. 

She recounts that the unnamed director proceeded to edit and produce a final cut of the film without her consent or approval. “They tried to get me to sign a contract completely, like giving the rights to the script away so that the director could go on to sell the rights to a feature film without me,” Sanseverino recalled. “And they didn't like the fact that I wouldn't just accept that.” 

To this day, she hasn’t been able to watch the project she worked so arduously on during her final year of college. “It was one of those things where I wish I could have done it instead of handing it off to someone else,” she said. “It wasn't brought to life properly.” 

Beyond enduring the unfortunate, but well-known, hurdles of such a competitive industry, she’s also had to worry about the shrinking writer’s rooms, leading to a dwindling pathway for those hoping to become professional screenwriters.

“I would be lying if I said there wasn't fear and there wasn't anxiety about the next couple years,” she explained when outlining the difficulties of trying to land her first writer’s job.

And although making it as a screenwriter in Hollywood has never been easy, it’s now arguably harder than ever. According to recent data published by the Writers Guild of America (WGA), TV writing jobs decreased by 42%, and the number of shows being aired fell to 37% in the 2023-2024 season. 

These kinds of contractions were one of the causes of the WGA Writers’ Strike of 2023. After the Covid-19 pandemic and the streaming boom of the 2010s, studios determined that producing the number of shows they were creating, and employing the number of writers it took to generate them, was just not financially viable. 

As a result, writers’ rooms got smaller, and the openings companies had, often went to more experienced and known writers. This narrowed the traditional pathway for young writers, structured as a sort of ladder, where they’d climb from writer’s assistants to staff writers to showrunners. 

Today, from established screenwriters to emerging ones like Sanseverino, no one seems to have a definitive answer to what the future of the industry will look like. 

 Hollywood largely went silent from May 2 to September 27, 2023, as the WGA went on strike to advocate for its almost 12,000 writers. Between the loss of job opportunities and the limited residuals being distributed by producers, writers felt underemployed and underpaid. In addition, they were deeply concerned about the effects of artificial intelligence on their future positions. 

Their main complaints were targeted at the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP,) made up of the producers, networks and studios. In the official declaration from the WGA, they stated that the AMPTP had “closed the door on their labor force and opened the door to writing as an entirely freelance profession.” 

Usually, when studios select writers for various projects, they’ll publicize Open Writing Assignments (OWAs) and encourage professionals to generate a script based on a subject or idea. However, after many months of creative work, writers aren’t paid if their scripts aren't produced. 

According to Colleary, residuals from past jobs are often their sole source of income during these periods, which is what allows them to temporarily work without getting paid. 

“Even the most talented writers have periods where they'd have to sort of regenerate [and] come up with a new idea,” Colleary said. “And the only way they could remain in the business was because of their passive earnings.”

The decreasing residuals have been linked to the rise of streaming services, a boom that began in the early 2010s.

“There was an expansion for a few years as streaming launched, [and] there were suddenly so many shows, and that wasn't profitable, and so we're pulling back a lot,” said Julia Bianco, a former showrunner’s assistant for HBO Max’s “Head of the Class.” “And that makes it tough, because there are just so many people who had been working who aren't working anymore.” 

Subsequently, many seasoned writers were laid off. Those lucky enough to be running shows and hiring writers tended to go first to their friends and colleagues —not necessarily a new practice, but with far fewer jobs and plenty of established writers out of work, it often left emerging writers with nowhere to go. 

This precedent and job anxiety were initially set by the pandemic, which exacerbated the feeling of lack of direction for writers. 

“Nobody wanted to read your script during a pandemic; nobody wanted to meet during a pandemic,” says Jon Lazar, a staff writer for the TV show “Dexter.” “Nobody wanted to do anything during a pandemic; no agents were hiring. The jobs were fewer and far between. The writers' strike effectively eliminated everything you know, any opportunity. I remember we couldn't meet with executives.”

During the 2019-2020 season, 2,722 writers were employed by both cable and network services. Three years later, as network TV continued to decrease, the number had plummeted to only 1,819 writers. 

In 2023 the strike seemed close to inevitable as the growing list of challenges for screenwriters continued to multiply. 

After the combination of nonexistent economic protections, alongside the limited writing opportunities stemming from the pandemic and cancellation of streaming shows, paired with the current threat of artificial intelligence, writers were prompted to champion safer professional contracts, and a more all-encompassing sense of stability. 

The WGA reached an agreement after five months of deliberation that guaranteed a minimum number of writers on every streaming show and expanded residuals for writers in projects viewed by 20% of subscribers 90 days post-release or 90 days after the start of the calendar year.  

Still, screenwriters today are waiting to see what the long-lasting effects of this period will mean for their careers. “If you don't love writing, I tell people all the time, don't do this, because it is going to get worse,’” said Lazar. 

  As more and more families in America began owning a TV set during the 1950s, the traditional studio system that defined the Hollywood film business started to crumble. 

For the earlier half of the 20th century, the studio system, which consisted of five studios owning all parts of the filmmaking process —production, distribution, and exhibition—had provided screenwriters with a consistent and reliable monthly salary, not tied to the number of films they’d generate.  

However, as the system faded, the film industry became more of a talent package, where agents would bring directors, writers, producers and actors together for a project. 

The TV industry alternately transitioned into a network system, where shows would possess a large writer’s room with writers who would receive promotions and more obligations as their involvement increased. 

These changes made the television industry a slightly safer place for writers to have reliable employment, as the whole industry made screenwriting a more freelance profession. 

Cameron entered the industry during the installation of the network systems and  remembers her almost four-decade experience in Hollywood with gratitude. 

After landing her first position as a staff writer for the [decade] animated show “Casper and the Angels,” the opportunities steadily kept coming as her reputation grew. 

Although her journey was accompanied with undeniable luck, not necessarily common for her time, the structure of the network system made it easier to understand the avenues to achieving writing success and breaking into the industry. 

Between the 1970s and early 2010s, screenwriters traditionally began their professional journeys in entry-level positions, like staff writers or writer’s assistants. From there, they habitually received promotions to story editor and executive story editor as the show progressed each season. 

From these roles, screenwriters moved up the structure to more executive-level positions, such as supervising producers and executive producers, where, beyond their writing responsibilities, they were also in charge of rewrites and of even hiring cast members. 

The dreamed outcome was to become a showrunner, tasked with overseeing the entire writing department and crafting the entire direction of a TV show. 

Successful network shows, such as “Friends” and “The Office,” would last for multiple years with around 22 episodes per season, giving writers plenty of time to create the connections needed to start climbing the ranks. 

“And back in the day, when a lot of shows were getting six, seven seasons, you could work all the way up from staff writer to executive producer on one show, and then you'd be a showrunner,” Bianco continued. “And shows just aren't that long-running [anymore.]” 

After the streaming boom of the 2010s, seasons and shows were shortened. Instead of creating a 22-episode season, streaming tv series generated only around eight episodes. 

This was due to a monetary problem; network television was able to afford higher production costs through commercials and ads, which, up until this year, weren’t included in streaming services. 

However, it’s too early to tell how the introduction of ads to these platforms will impact screenwriters and the business overall. 

 After graduating from New York University, Teresa Jusino moved to Los Angeles from New York City in 2011. Even back then, concerns about the effects of the streaming bubble bursting were already percolating.

Once the pandemic hit, Jusino pivoted and started to work as a Covid testing coordinator on sets and then, as an independent writer/producer, outside of the standard network structure. 

The whole time she has been attempting to break into screenwriting and land a position as a staff writer. “I've been operating kind of like a one-woman band for years,” Jusino says. “It's [challenging,] especially when you're trying to have, like, a day job; you're trying to actually pay rent and make money.”

In 2022, she started a production company and wrote, produced, and directed her own short film, “Happy Birthday Harold.” As many emerging filmmakers do, she called in favors and asked friends to join the cast and crew — and inquired what she could give them in return apart from money.

And although she aims to continue breaking into Hollywood as a writer, she is excited to own something special outside of the system with a more philanthropic approach. 

“There's a mission behind it in that it's not just a production company through which I want to produce my own work and other people's work,” Jusino explains. “It's something that my goal ultimately is to use the company to advocate for and help the unhoused community in Los Angeles and beyond.” 

Today, around 14,000 Angelenos live in their cars around the city — and some of them work in the entertainment industry.

“Because we're in LA, there [are] plenty of film professionals living in their cars who don't have homes but know how to do jobs,” she says. “So hiring them, I've had that idea of, like, I love writing, and I want to make the world better. I want to put those together.” 

In this new borderline anarchic era of the industry, artists like Jusino are trying to craft their own corner outside of Hollywood, producing spaces where struggling creatives can gain experience in their fields and contribute to a positive vision. 

Others aim to break into the status quo system using strategies that reflect Hollywood’s current era of making shows and movies about preexisting IP, or intellectual property. So, writers are authoring novels they then plan to turn into screenplays. 

According to Parrot Analytics, in 2024, 40 to 50 percent of the top 100 TV shows and 70 to 80 percent of the top 100 movies were based on preexisting IP. Per CNBC, of the 20 highest-grossing films list of 2024, only two were entirely new stories — Paramount’s “IF” and Neon's "Longlegs.”

Sanseverino, as a recent grad, has been encouraged by colleagues to pursue this pathway to gain traction from studios. “I think it's really cool, but I think it's also a little bit disheartening because a huge trend right now is that studios don't want to make a film unless they can be 100% sure it's going to profit,” she said. 

Bianco, who is almost 10 years older, has heard of the concept in more established circles as well. “I've known some people who had an idea for a screenplay and then would write it as a short story first, and get that short story published in the magazine, and then sell the short story rights as IP, and then get a screenplay made that way,” she noted. “So creative ways around things can also help.”

In 2026, she will be releasing her own novel, “Witch Season,” after writing it in the middle of the strike; she recounts one of her motivators as something she was “able to make happen, even as the TV industry was kind of [falling] apart.”

And even though she is successful in the traditional sense, having worked as a showrunner’s assistant for platforms like HBO Max and as an assistant to [position] Jon M. Chu on “Wicked,” she acknowledges there is a pressing desire for all things IP. 

“Adapting an original book is still making a pretty original piece of television,” she added. “Where it can get kind of annoying as a writer is when you're like, ‘I have an original idea,’ and they're like, 'Okay, but where is the IP?’”

Amid the remnants of a pandemic, a post-strike, the rise and contraction of streaming and now the pressures of IP, writers are hoping that the industry will regulate itself and begin generating positions like before. Hollywood has survived a dozen strikes since its inception and has managed to come out the other side.

“There's always something that happens that makes people think, ‘Oh, it's the end of television; oh, it's the end of film; oh, it's never going to be the same again,’” Jusino says. “And then it levels out, whatever the new normal is. It's [going to] settle, you know, so [I’m] trying to keep my head up in the middle.” 

The introduction of artificial intelligence has also worried screenwriters and creatives alike about the effects it will have on the industry. 

The WGA and AMPTP contract agreement, which ended the strike, outlines specific rules for the use of AI, stating that writers can choose to use this tool for efficacy purposes, such as when working on script coverage. 

While AI can’t be utilized to write or rewrite material, and companies must disclose if any materials given to writers are AI generated, its impact seems to be reaching other areas of the industry already, like pre- and post-production.

According to Colleary, the UCLA professor, the business used to be one of “generational education,” where parents would teach their children their craft, such as lighting and how to build scenery.  

“A lot of that's going to disappear because all this stuff's going to be generated; you can already generate your own soundtrack and make it sound like John Williams," he said. “So, a lot of that's going to change. It's just hard to know what it's going to look like on the other side.” 

However, he emphasized that the middle of the chaos and uncertainty has historically brought better storytellers and stories to the forefront. After the studio system collapsed in the 1960s, for instance, American cinema saw the emergence of young filmmakers still considered to be among the best ever. 

“It wasn't until the mid-’70s, [when] these young filmmakers who had come up, George Lucas, Francis Coppola, and [Steven] Spielberg, kind of broke through,” Colleary says. “They used that sort of corporate confusion to bring a better kind of film into American cinemas, and that's when we got the second so-called ‘Golden Age of Hollywood’ in the 70s.” 

Sanseverino is filled with hope that the business will become more stable in the upcoming years and her youth and excitement will be recognized. She currently works at a film distribution company where she continues to make connections. “If I could sit down with any executive, I would say, ‘You just have to trust the young people. You have to trust the people that have passion.”