Writing is as much about marketing as it is about the story. A great story full of great characters, great dialog, and great action is a given nowadays. It’s the bare minimum that a writer must produce to grab the attention of anyone. One of the supplemental articles that helps set that great script apart from the avalanche of others is the one sheet, also called the “one pager” or the “leave behind.” 
At its heart, a one sheet tells people what your core story is about, laid out in a simple three act structure with only minimum flourish, with optional room at the end to say why it should be told. 
It should fill one side of one 11 x 8.5 sheet of paper, with reasonable margins and normal-sized font. 
A one pager is a marketing tool that helps boil down your meticulous, beautiful, world-changing story into something a producer or executive can digest and share with others. They’re relatively simple in design, but difficult to master, especially if you’re a passionate writer who loves to get carried away when telling others about your stories. They might even seem offensively simple, if you’re new to them, but I would encourage you to look them as a tool for your own writing as much as they are a business and marketing supplemental.
The goal, ultimately, is to get producers and executives chomping at the bit to read more, and be willing to pay you to give it to them. 
Traditionally, a one pager consists of:
<ul>
<li>The script title</li>
<li>The names of the writers</li>
<li>The Logline</li>
<li>The three-act summary of your story</li>
<li>Why it should be told (sometimes optional)</li>
</ul>
As you get more comfortable writing them, you’ll see that this rigid structure melts away into something a bit more organic, but for our purposes here, we’ll stick to the formal structure.
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<div id="attachment_34161" style="width: 461px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-34161" class=" wp-image-34161" src="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/pexels-yan-krukov-7640773-1024x1024.jpg" alt="" width="451" height="451" srcset="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/pexels-yan-krukov-7640773-1024x1024.jpg 1024w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/pexels-yan-krukov-7640773-150x150.jpg 150w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/pexels-yan-krukov-7640773-250x250.jpg 250w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/pexels-yan-krukov-7640773-768x768.jpg 768w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/pexels-yan-krukov-7640773-50x50.jpg 50w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/pexels-yan-krukov-7640773.jpg 1280w" sizes="(max-width: 451px) 100vw, 451px" />Photo by Yan Krukov</div>
The first two pieces are simple. Script name. Writer name. The third piece, however, is when things get a little sticky.
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<h3>The Logline</h3>
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A logline is a one or two-sentence teaser that tells others about your story, its most important characters, and its overall tone. Its goal is to entice potential readers to want to read the entire script.
Some writers, like me, start crafting their story only after they’ve written their tight, clear logline. Others write it after they’ve completed the script. Either way, it exists to establish understanding and expectations with your future reader about what they’ll get if they read the whole story. 
You may be thinking, “I can’t squeeze all my story goodness into one sentence!” Well, you can and you must. Think of it like reading the blurb on the back of a novel before deciding to buy. Separate what needs to be said to understand what the story is about from what you want to say, and write a sentence that makes those core pieces sound enticing. 
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">Do not &#8212; I repeat, DO NOT &#8212; bury your hook. Ever!</h3>
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Writing stellar loglines takes practice and deserves its own article, but for our purposes here, think of your logline as the tip of the pyramid for the rest of your one sheet. The summary of your story is simply a more-detailed exploration of your concise, sharp logline.
This is also where you should hint at whether the story is based on real events, or adapted from pre-existing material.
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<h3>The Summary</h3>
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Summarizing your story in three paragraphs &#8211; one for each act &#8211; sounds relatively simple at first glance. However, it’s the section in the one sheet where writers often run into the most trouble. 
The summary is not a moment-by-moment breakdown of plot points in your story. It is also not a place to include small homages, references, or flourishes that you’ve woven into your script. Or a place where you have time to expound upon twists you think are clever. 
Instead, it’s a micro-version of the story. A beginning, middle and end that encapsulates your character’s journeys in the script. Think sweeping strokes here, rather than bite-sized breadcrumbs. 
Our instinct as creative people is to assume that if we share more of the story with someone, they’ll find the story just as interesting as we did when we decided to write it. This isn’t the case, and it can often backfire. Write your summary from the mindset that you’re telling someone what happens so that they can read the script and experience how those things happen.
And yes, you should spoil the ending. Never withhold it in the hopes that it will encourage a reader to read your script.
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<h3>Why The Summary Can Be Your Best Friend As A Writer</h3>
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A one sheet’s summary is essentially a synopsis; a concise outline. Whether you like to write organically or outline first, synopses can be super helpful in keeping you on track as you write, or to notice places where you’ve overcomplicated things when you’re planning a rewrite. 
If you’re the type of writer who gets swept away into the great complexities and tangents of your story and before long you don’t know how to get back to the central spine, then writing an outline constrained to three paragraphs can ensure you never stray too far. 
Plus, a one pager can help you test an idea with friends, family, and industry professionals to make sure it’s as strong and sound as you think it is, before you spend weeks or months fleshing the whole thing out. 
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<h3>Why Your Story Should Be Told</h3>
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If you’ve kept everything concise, at the bottom of your one sheet, you should have enough space for a paragraph about why you want to tell this story and why it should be told. 
“Why now?” is one of the most common questions you’ll be asked in general meetings and pitches. They’re essentially asking, “How is this relevant to today’s audiences?” and this is your opportunity to lay it out quickly for yourself and for others. 
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<div id="attachment_34162" style="width: 625px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-34162" class=" wp-image-34162" src="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/iu-6-1024x576.jpeg" alt="Creative Screenwriting Magazine" width="615" height="346" srcset="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/iu-6-1024x576.jpeg 1024w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/iu-6-150x84.jpeg 150w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/iu-6-250x141.jpeg 250w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/iu-6-768x432.jpeg 768w" sizes="(max-width: 615px) 100vw, 615px" />Partial cast of DUNE</div>
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<h3>Let&#8217;s Look At An Example &#8211; Dune</h3>
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Just to prove that even the most epic of stories can fit on a one sheet, let’s create one for Dune (2021). 
Script Title: Dune (Part One)
Writers: Jon Spaihts, Denis Villeneuve and Eric Roth (screenplay by), Frank Herbert (based on the novel by)
Logline: In this adaptation of Frank Herbert&#8217;s science fiction epic, the son of a noble family entrusted with protecting a critical resource planet must lead a resistance when his family is betrayed and his father is assassinated. 
Summary: 
In the distant future, the galactic Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV sends Duke Leto of House Atreides to rule over a fiefdom on Arrakis, the source planet for the element “melange,” which makes interstellar travel possible. The harvest of this spice is dangerous, as the desert planet is plagued by thousand-foot-long sandworms attracted to the sound of their harvesting equipment. Duke Leto brings with him his concubine Lady Jessica, a disciple of the Bene Gesserit order, which has worked behind the scenes to influence and manipulate great houses for generations, and their son, Paul. With his mother’s training, Paul has begun to exhibit signs that he is the Kwisatz Haderach, a prophesied messiah-like figure for the Bene Gesserit order, who will eventually lead humanity into a brighter future. He’s plagued with future visions of a war fought in his name. He is given a potentially fatal impulse control test by a Reverend Mother of the Bene Gesserit and passes. 
Unbeknownst to Duke Leto, Emperor Shaddam has arranged for a rival family &#8212; the brutal Harkonnens &#8212; to retake Arrakis and assassinate him after their arrival. When one of Duke Leto’s staff betrays him and he is assassinated, Jessica and Paul are forced to flee with the help of loyal aides. The Reverend Mother arranges for the Harkonnens to spare Paul and Jessica’s lives, however, the Harkonnens hunt them down anyway. They’re only able to escape by using a Bene Gesserit mind control technique called “The Voice.” 
Now stranded in the desert, Paul and Jessica are forced to rely on their survival and Bene Gesserit training to find shelter and safety. Eventually, two of their loyal entourage discover them and take them to a research facility run by an ally of the Fremen, the native desert people of Arrakis. While there, the facility is ambushed by Sardaukar, soldiers trained since birth to fight to the death. Their loyal entourage sacrifice themselves to allow Paul and Jessica to escape, by luring a sandworm to devour the Sardaukar. Deeper in the desert, Paul and Jessica encounter Fremen. One demands a duel to the death before they’re allowed to join their community. Paul is forced to take a life for the first time, and against Jessica’s protests, agrees to become a Fremen to protect them and fulfill his father’s wishes of uniting with the people of Arrakis. 
Dune is a sweeping epic about power, destiny, and community, as well as a story about indigenous communities fighting for the rights to their own land under the oppressive rule of outsiders. It’s a story for the ages, and deeply relevant to the power struggles we see in our own world today.

Writing An Effective One Sheet

The name of the game in television writing is sustainable entertainment. Unless your story is a limited series, it’s likely to take multiple seasons and multiple arcs of various sizes to complete your narrative. Even then, limited series also require multiple storylines to drive the narrative toward its satisfying conclusion. This is where A, B, C storytelling comes into play. A TV show is rarely only about one core story; there are usually at least two or three other smaller narratives playing out in the same dramatic space.
Your A Story almost invariably follows your lead characters as they explore the central concept of your show. This storyline usually takes up the highest number of scenes and reinforces the promise of the premise.
In The Good Place, Eleanor’s quest to be “worthy” of the good place fuels her interactions with everyone else, even after the season one twist comes into play. In Squid Game, Gi-hun’s money problems &#8212; to pay off his loan sharks, pay for his mom’s surgery and for a lawyer to fight for custody of his daughter &#8212; quickly drives the narrative to the point where playing a life or death game for cold hard cash seems not only reasonable, but necessary.
<div id="attachment_33728" style="width: 638px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-33728" class=" wp-image-33728" src="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-4-1024x576.jpeg" alt="Creative Screenwriting Magazine" width="628" height="353" srcset="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-4.jpeg 1024w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-4-150x84.jpeg 150w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-4-250x141.jpeg 250w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-4-768x432.jpeg 768w" sizes="(max-width: 628px) 100vw, 628px" />Eleanor Shellstrop (Kirsten Bell) &amp; Tahani Al-Jamil (Jameela Jamil) in The Good Place</div>
Even though the “core concept” of both of these shows is much bigger than the main character’s goal, it’s through the main character chasing that desire that we are introduced to the rest of it.
This works for procedurals as well. In Law and Order SVU, the case of the week fills the A story. In The Rookie, the calls they take on any given day might be the A story, or a larger case that absorbs the entire episode, like when they’re working with serial killer Rosalind Dyer.
The B Story is a slightly smaller A Story, usually driven by secondary characters. This storyline usually comes in two forms, either:
1) the secondary character’s problem is related to or complicated by your main character’s A story or 
2) it’s separate from the A story but can be tied back into it at a later point.
In The Good Place, one of several B stories involves Eleanor’s discovery that she’s not the only “undeserving person” to end up in the good place. This causes huge complications and obstacles as she pursues her goal. Another involves Michael’s “failure” to keep the good place running properly.
In Squid Game, police officer Jun-ho’s investigation of the island and the search for his brother allows us to explore behind the scenes of the organization running the game, but it isn’t as important a piece of storytelling as the A story.
<div id="attachment_33729" style="width: 609px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-33729" class=" wp-image-33729" src="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-2-2-1024x576.jpeg" alt="Creative Screenwriting Magazine" width="599" height="337" srcset="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-2-2-1024x576.jpeg 1024w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-2-2-150x84.jpeg 150w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-2-2-250x141.jpeg 250w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-2-2-768x432.jpeg 768w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-2-2.jpeg 1600w" sizes="(max-width: 599px) 100vw, 599px" />Jun-Ho (Donald Chang) in Squid Game</div>
Ideally, your B story will mirror the thematic point of your A story, which ultimately enriches, deepens, and adds meaning to your main narrative. Rick and Morty and South Park are notoriously great at mirroring their storylines, but it can be done in any series. In The Good Place, as a giant ticking clock weighs over them in one episode, Tahani and Eleanor are forced to chase commitment-phobic Chidi around after they both tell him they love him and he literally runs away. This is then mirrored by a B story in which Jason confesses his love to Janet and they immediately get married.
The C Story, which is sometimes called a “runner,” is just a magnitudes-smaller ongoing story. These are smaller threads that enrich your narrative, and keep it from feeling too anemic. Just like the B-story, they can become more important later on, or in the case of comedies be quick setups for jokes. C Stories aren&#8217;t necessarily present in each episode, so they function as a background storyline throughout the series.
In The Rookie, for example, there is a long-running C story involving cop Angela dating and getting engaged to defense attorney Wesley. For the first two seasons, it was simply a small character-driven romance, but last season when they introduced notorious drug queenpin La Fiera their storyline became more prominent. Their thread transitioned into the B storyline and by the last episode of season 3, it was poised to become the A story for the first episode of season 4.
There is also an alternate version of A, B, C storytelling sometimes called A-A-A storytelling. This is where three separate storylines all function as main narratives. True ensemble series, like the limited series Nine Perfect Strangers, call this to mind. While characters like feuding writer Francis and burn-out football player Tony get more screentime than lottery winners Ben and Jessica, each episode for the most part feels balanced as the camera effortlessly shifts from one group of main characters to another, and no one character &#8211; not even Masha &#8211; feels like the center of the show.
<div id="attachment_33731" style="width: 633px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-33731" class=" wp-image-33731" src="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-3-2-1024x576.jpeg" alt="Creative Screenwriting Magazine" width="623" height="350" srcset="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-3-2-1024x576.jpeg 1024w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-3-2-150x84.jpeg 150w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-3-2-250x141.jpeg 250w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-3-2-768x432.jpeg 768w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/iu-3-2.jpeg 1280w" sizes="(max-width: 623px) 100vw, 623px" />Tony (Bobby Cannavale) &amp; Frances (Melissa McCarthy) in Nine Perfect Strangers</div>
Organizing your pitches and episode ideas by A, B, and C stories can help regulate the pacing and tension of your series. By cutting between multiple storylines slower or faster, you can slow down or speed up your pace to increase suspense, dread, or comedy. You can create dramatic irony and misunderstanding and complication. Conflict also increases, especially when storylines force characters to make life threatening decisions or to betray one another. Think of it like conducting an orchestra; bring in additional storylines when needed and where they naturally fit and every so often it’ll allow for an awesome dramatic crescendo.
In any sustainable TV series, the A, B, and C stories work in concert and remain related to the main engine of the show, leaving plenty of opportunity for reconnections and collisions between storylines as the show goes along.
However, it’s important to remember that there can and often are multiple B and C storylines in any given long-running show. Knowing how many storylines your series “should” have really comes down to fully exploring character and character arcs, having a running list of facets of your premise that you can explore, and keeping in mind that additional storylines can be introduced in later episodes and seasons and don’t necessarily need to be fully introduced in your pilot.
A show wholly focused on only one A story puts an enormous amount of pressure on that narrative to be the most compelling piece of drama put to film, and it’s usually only sustainable for the rare episode. However, crowding your script with extra storylines is bound to be just as problematic as having too few.
Instead, focus on establishing rich, flawed characters that could inspire a variety of secondary storylines as your story moves along. No matter how many ongoing threads your series has, each one should feel fully rooted in the audience’s understanding of your characters and your core concept.

Creating A, B, and C Storylines For TV Series

Many TV writers spend an inordinate amount of time crafting the perfect pilot episode. Although your  TV pilot is essential to introduce the entire television series, some writers don&#8217;t always spend a corresponding amount of time on the subsequent episodes. Granted, most of the heavy lifting of the show occurs in the pilot, but don&#8217;t neglect the other episodes.
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<h3>The Purpose Of The Second Episode</h3>
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Regardless of whether you’re still trying to break into the industry or you’re inches away from signing on the dotted line with a network, the point of all the work we’re putting in is to keep working, to get additional work on shows in the future. Selling your pilot today means writing the second episode tomorrow. And getting staffed on a TV show means potentially writing the second, third, or twenty fifth episode of an already established series. 
That’s really where the importance of a second episode &#8211; or at least planning for it &#8211; lies. Either way, the show goes on, and you need to be prepared to keep it going. 
With more and more shows hitting the air and streaming services every single day, it’s becoming clearer just how important that second episode is. Audiences might tune in for the cool concept, slick hook, or original world of the pilot, but how do you keep them coming back for more once those things are established?
<div id="attachment_33369" style="width: 486px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-33369" class=" wp-image-33369" src="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-2-1-1024x682.jpeg" alt="Creative Screenwriting Magazine" width="476" height="317" srcset="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-2-1-1024x682.jpeg 1024w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-2-1-150x100.jpeg 150w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-2-1-250x166.jpeg 250w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-2-1-768x511.jpeg 768w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-2-1.jpeg 1080w" sizes="(max-width: 476px) 100vw, 476px" />Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) in Squid Game. Photo courtesy of Netflix</div>
As a quick recap, let’s look at what a pilot is and what it’s supposed to do. Then we’ll do the same for a second episode and explore how you can avoid the post-pilot slump with your own show.
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<h3>What Is A TV Pilot?</h3>
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In it simplest terms, a TV pilot is the opening chapter of an ongoing story. It introduces your very flawed, but watchable characters, what they want, and what they’re up against. It also sets up your world, establishes the rules and limitations of that world, and establishes the engine of the show. What’s going to keep this thing ticking episode after episode, week after week, year after year?
It becomes the blueprint for the rest of the series. When the pilot ends, we should know the tone, the format, and why your story needs hundreds of episodes to be explored. Feature ideas and series ideas are different down to their marrow and one of the most common mistakes young writers make (in their loglines, if nowhere else), is to present a feature idea as if it will sustain a series. 
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<h3>What Is A Second Episode?</h3>
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A second episode is the next chapter of your ongoing story. It is also proof that you can keep that story going, not only in terms of the concept, but in terms of the various throughlines, subplots, and character arcs you set up or hinted at in your pilot. 
If Sally Sue gets clawed by a werewolf in your opening episode, does she start showing signs of transformation in your second? Perhaps you told us in the pilot that she’s not the only creature in town; perhaps there are a number of Crow’s Shadow residents hiding supernatural secrets and now you get to introduce a couple of the more important ones.

<div id="attachment_33371" style="width: 523px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-33371" class=" wp-image-33371" src="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-4-1-1024x645.jpeg" alt="Creative Screenwriting Magazine" width="513" height="323" />Partial Cast Of Witcher. Photo courtesy of Netflix</div>
The second episode can also be where you introduce additional secondary characters that you couldn’t quite fit into your pilot. It might also be where you hint at potential vehicles for guest stars. 
Perhaps this is where you lay the foundation for the secret society hunting werewolves, led by a roguish and gorgeous werewolf hunter (to be played by Ian Summerfield). They find clues that someone’s been attacked in Sally Sue’s town &#8212; how long before they realize it’s her? 
The second episode is also your opportunity to show off how well you can transition from episode to episode, and whether your show is more episodic or serial in nature. It’s also where you prove that you can keep your writing style and voice going.
It’s awesome if we hear Sally Sue’s snarky internal monologue throughout the pilot, but you better be able to prove she still has enough sarcasm for the rest of the show. If she goes radio silent in episode two, audiences will be confused, disappointed, and probably lose interest.
Equally as important, your second episode proves the tone works for your story, or at least proves that the concept can carry various tones if you need it to. The Witcher, for example, introduces us to quite a somber, serious and sometimes sad trio of main characters in Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri. In episode 2, however, we’re introduced to Jaskier the Bard, a bit of goofy comic relief in a stormy wartorn world. Introducing him in the pilot likely wouldn’t have worked because it would have competed too explicitly with the show’s gritty introduction.
 
<h3>How To Avoid The Second Episode Slump</h3>
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Avoiding the second episode slump comes down to a few things. Namely style, entertainment factor, building tension, character depth, plot, and character arc.
Character is key to any type of storytelling, but especially ongoing storytelling. The cool hook or concept of your pilot will draw audiences in and be a source of inspiration for later episodes, but they’ll come back again and again because they want to follow your characters and see what they do and what happens to them.
For example, Jane the Virgin’s basic concept was: what if a modern Catholic virgin waiting until marriage is accidentally artificially inseminated? There’s your hook &#8211; you want to know how it happens, then you want to know what she does about it. And what if it’s told in a stylized telenovela format? There’s your style, tone and formatting. People tuned in to find out. 
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<div id="attachment_33372" style="width: 607px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-33372" class=" wp-image-33372" src="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-5-1024x512.jpeg" alt="Creative Screenwriting Magazine" width="597" height="299" srcset="https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-5-1024x512.jpeg 1024w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-5-150x75.jpeg 150w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-5-250x125.jpeg 250w, https://www.creativescreenwriting.com/cswcms/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/iu-5-768x384.jpeg 768w" sizes="(max-width: 597px) 100vw, 597px" />Partial cast of Jane The Virgin. Photo courtesy of CW Network</div>
However, the second episode starts with Jane voicing her resolute plan to ignore the pregnancy as much as possible and then give the baby up. So much for the concept doing all the heavy lifting. Instead, it’s the various characters and their shenanigans that went on to fuel the series for five seasons. 
Audiences already had their “answer” to the central concept, even if they knew Jane’s plans would go spectacularly awry. They returned the next week, and the week after that, because feisty, fabulous, hardworking Jane, Xiomara, her grandmother, Raphael, Petra, and Michael won their hearts, sympathy, and ongoing curiosity. If Jane really had been plain, the show would have fizzled by the time she decided to keep the baby. 
One way to ensure that your second episode sets the standard for the rest of your series is to figure out your ending. Figure out who you want your characters to be in a hundred episodes. Then it’s about exploring all the ways in which the concept, themes and other characters’ goals can come together to make that journey the most exciting, earned, and entertaining it can be. 
Dig deep into your characters while you’re sharpening your pilot. Figure out what makes them worth watching despite their flaws and why they have those flaws at all. Write out their ultimate goals and what could go wrong along the way. Write out a long-running list of ways in which the characters’ individual goals can compete, conflict, and collide with one another.
Ongoing struggle is the name of the game. This isn’t a feature where a few brutal run-ins with an antagonist are going to transform your character. 
Between the first and hundredth episode, a lot can happen, but your pilot and your series finale can and should set the constraints that you use to push your characters along their arcs. A schlub in a small town could end up president of the United States, if that’s the concept for your show, and knowing that ahead of time lets you work backward to figure out where they need to be by the end of the first season, the second season, and so on. To achieve that giant goal, it’s going to take a lot of push and pull, drama, episode arcs, seasonal arcs, failures, successes, and personal struggle. And each episode can be a chapter in that journey. Knowing where that journey ends simply helps keep you on track, and it gives you something to shoot for in your second episode, as well as your third, fourth and fifth.
Let’s look at one more example. Let’s look at LOST. The original hook that sold that show, that got it made, was the idea of a group of strangers forced to survive on a mysterious island together. Stranded people have made great story characters for centuries (just look at Swiss Family Robinson, Robinson Crusoe, Life of Pi, and The Martian, among a million others). Add to that the genre element of a mystery island with mysterious, supernatural, and dangerous forces plaguing our survivors day and night and boom, you have one of the most influential shows of the 2000s. 
The first episode of LOST establishes a few basic components of the ongoing show: the scenario (their plane crashes on an island), the first-season goal (get rescued/off the island), the conflict (crazy-weird sounds and monsters in the jungle), and the consistent use of flashbacks to deepen the characters’ stories. The rest is almost entirely dedicated to character introduction, early cliques, and interpersonal conflict, tension and foreshadowing. The bite-sized episode story involves Jack, Kate, and Charlie going to recover the transceiver from the cockpit. While there, plot and character mix. Charlie recovers his stash of drugs, Kate pulls a sleight of hand that will come up later, the pilot tells them no one’s coming for them, and then he’s torn apart by a monster as our trio runs away.
The second episode ends exactly where the first left off. Our three survivors discuss the pilot’s warning as they return to the beach with the transceiver &#8212; a clear episode transition. We get flashbacks, deepening island mystery, and a bite-size episode story involving getting a signal on the transceiver by going to high ground. Just like the first episode, much of the meat is driven by character introduction and conflict. Sayid and Sawyer fight. Sun hints at her rebellion against Jin. Locke becomes one of the most interesting characters in the show by way of a scar and a secret. And so on. All of these reaffirmed that the show could reproduce the electric results of the original episode. And just like in the pilot, this episode ended with a scary island mystery cliffhanger &#8212; “it killed them all.” 
If your series is less character-driven and more concept-driven, remember that no one wants to watch boring stock characters do anything. Certainly not over and over again. In this age of oversaturation, everything getting made is concept driven anyway &#8211; apocalypses, zombies, mysterious spa retreats. What sets apart one from another is whether the characters make you care.

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