Mark B. Perry Screenwriter & Novelist

When I left The Wonder Years, my agent asked if I wanted to go into comedy or drama. I’ve never considered myself a joke writer, but humor is always a huge part of my work, so I answered, “Drama. Definitely drama.” He then booked me for a freelance assignment on the quirky CBS hit Northern Exposure. I wrote the first draft of “Blowing Bubbles” episode guest starring Anthony Edwards as a man suffering from “chemical sensitivity.” And even though not much of my work made it to the screen (hey, that’s showbiz!), it was a prestige credit that helped me build a career. Experience is the best teacher, and it sure didn’t hurt to add two of the most popular and critically acclaimed shows of the early ’90s to my nascent resume. These series, along with another credit still a couple of years away, eventually ended up on the Writers Guild of America’s list of the 101 Best Written TV Series.

My Northern Exposure script caught the eye of TV savant David E. Kelley, who hired me to be on staff for the first season of his new show, Picket Fences. Turned out I wasn’t really part of a writing staff; I was the writing staff. When I turned in my first draft of my first episode, David confessed to me saying, “I don’t know how to work with writers,” and told me he intended to write every episode himself. Turns out, I was really just there to give him ideas. The only thing I wrote that made it to the screen was a very technical surgery scene where Kathy Baker’s character transplanted a pig’s liver into Della Reese, the dialog consisting mostly of what our medical advisor told me the characters would be saying: “Just watch the monitor, please.” “Where do I attach?” “Suction.” “Right there. Same as a human’s. Use the five oh.” “I am but I’m still getting some oozing, dammit!” Scintillating stuff. At the end of the first season, David E. Kelley and Mark B. Perry had a friendly parting of ways. The best thing about that job was meeting the incomparable Zelda Rubinstein who became a cherished and lifelong friend. In fact, one of the greatest honors of my entire career was being asked to speak at her life celebration. After my “one and done” season with Picket Fences, my resume now had three Emmy Award-winning titles and my very own winged statuette for producing.

One very short hiatus later, Harley Peyton (Less Than Zero, Twin Peaks) read an unfilmed script I wrote for Picket Fences and hired me as a writer-producer on the first (and sadly only) half-season of his show Moon Over Miami, a charming and frothy little wink to Old Hollywood and Nick and Nora Charles-like romantic comedy mystery that owed a big debt to its forerunners Remington Steele and Moonlighting. It was right up my alley and I got to write comedic mysteries and put banter in the mouths of handsome Billy Campbell and hilarious Ally Walker. The fun fizzled quickly when the show was yanked from the air. It was my first cancellation, and just when I thought my streak was over…

One of my Moon Over Miami scripts landed me at lunch with TV superpower Dick Wolf, creator of the Emmy-winning juggernaut Law & Order franchise. I love mysteries—of the Agatha Christie, Ellery Queen, Moon Over Miami variety—but am not really much of a procedural writer, so this was a bit of a creative detour and an experiment for me. Dick said he wanted me to help “make the characters more three dimensional” on his mother ship Law & Order, then entering its fifth season (the year Sam Waterston joined the cast and O.J. tried to flee in a Ford Bronco). I decided to challenge myself and took the job, only to struggle to find my creative footing for 13 episodes before Dick and I parted ways. My greatest memory of that time period was going to New York for the table read of one of my episodes, then getting tipsy with the legendary Rita Moreno on the flight back to L.A. As for my experience on the show, I racked up another prestige credit, and have a great story to tell about the behind-the-scenes treachery leading to my dismissal, one that’s best told over cocktails…or to a book club. Ask me by visiting my Book Club page!

Wounded and bruised by my ill-fated foray into cops and lawyers, I walked out of Law & Order and into one of the best jobs I’ve ever had. Chris Keyser and Amy Lippman’s new and fledgling show, Party of Five, had just been picked up for the remainder of its first season. I was on the show for the next three years and change, got a WGA nomination for my “Falsies” episode, and gained invaluable insight into working in a writers room and producing/running a television show. I also made a lifelong friend with Lisa Melamed, a gal so damned witty I call her my own Dorothy Parker. Chris and Amy didn’t rewrite the experienced scribes on their staff, instead they empowered us to own our work and produce our episodes. I learned all about showrunning and how to manage a writing staff and the craft of TV writing and producing at the feet of two of the best in the business.

I likely would have stayed on Party of Five had I not had the colossal misfortune to sell a pilot to ABC about young Olympic hopeful athletes training and attending college together. The most exciting day of my career was when the show got ordered to series; the most soul crushing was when I got fired off my creation. There were two versions of the show, the first directed by former thirtysomething heart throb Ken Olin, then, after a “sex it up” rewrite and some wholly unnecessary recasting, the second incarnation was directed by Eric Laneuville. It’s too long a story (and as heartbreaking as it is hilarious) to summarize in a popup paragraph but suffice to say I had a vision about the complicated psychological makeup of young, gorgeous athletes determined to be the Gold Medalist in their chosen sport, and ABC and Columbia-Tristar Television only wanted “sex, sex, sex” or, as the network head put it, “Melrose Place in Spandex!” I fought the studio and network on an hourly basis, and their compromise was to fire me. Shortly before the show’s premiere, I literally fled the country, and by the time I returned, Push had been shoved off the air. Only the first two episodes aired April of 1998 before ABC put it out of my misery. They planned to “burn off” the remaining episodes in the summer, but due to—oh, hell, just read how Daily Variety reported this fiasco: “ABC’s Push returned for more record-low marks, this time hitting what’s apparently the net’s lowest Thursday 8-9 p.m. rating ever, duplicating Push’s feat in its previous Monday 8-9 p.m. slot last April.” Translation? I’m the ignominious creator of a show so bad it was cancelled twice. The best way I can describe the surreal absurdity of that experience is to tell you to watch David Crane and Jeffrey Klarik’s brilliant series, Episodes. Yeah, it was like that. You want juicy and outrageous “inside TV” dish for your next get together.  Ask me, by visiting my Book Club page! I’m your guy.

My time in the world of young gymnasts, swimmers, and runners ended badly, and I vowed I’d never work for Columbia Tri-Star Television again. Then Chris Keyser and Amy Lippman (remember them?) came calling with an offer to join them for the Party of Five spinoff, Time of Your Life starring the effervescent Jennifer Love Hewitt and her best romantic foil to date, the inimitable Patrick Fabian. I think I was alone in the realization the show was more or less a contemporary, more dramatic take on the old Marlo Thomas sitcom That Girl, and once I had that notion in my head, I had a ball writing and producing, all while learning my creative soul definitely had a price tag!

When Time of Your Life fizzled, my friend and mentor Jill Gordon  (whom I’ve already spoken about in celestial terms) had a series picked up at NBC based on a British show called This Life about the lives and lusts of young first-year interns at a prestigious law firm. She wanted to call her version of the show Briefs, but the network insisted on First Years. The highlight was getting to work with director Tim Busfield and to write for the legendary Patty Duke, who we cast to play the fundamentalist, homophobic mother of the show’s gay character played by her real life son, Mackenzie Astin. I was having so much fun that naturally the show was cancelled after a mere nine episodes were shot and only three aired, two of them mine.

My career path took a uniquely satisfying turn when I be hired to run the debut series created by a young writer named Mike White (Dawson’s Creek, Chuck & Buck, Freaks and Geeks, The White Lotus and lots more). Mike’s prime time soap for Fox was called Pasadena and the pilot, directed by Diane Keaton, starred Dana Delany and a young Alison Lohman. Prestigious stuff. When it was picked up to series, I got the call to come aboard, and after Mike made it clear that he really wanted to write every episode, I focused on the producing side of things and sat back to watch the fun. I probably shouldn’t confess this here, but Mike didn’t really need me; he was/is beyond talented enough to run his own show as he’s proven time and again since. The executives at Fox thought they’d bought a contemporary Dallas or Dynasty and were baffled by Mike’s deliciously strange concoction, so they took us off the air and seemed to forgot we were still in production. The show got intriguingly weirder and edgier and the plug wasn’t pulled until 13 very satisfying episodes were completed (but not all aired). I recently binged the show on VHS (yes, I still have a working VCR) and all I can say Mike White’s Pasadena deserves a hearty damn that was some good TV. I highly recommend it. If you can find it, that is.  

In 2002, my writer friend Jeff Kline (a super talented guy and former Columbia TriStar Executive) was the show runner on an ABC show called That Was Then about a slacker (remember when “slacker” was a thing?) who time travels into his own high school past to try to correct the mistakes of his life. Jeff brought me on as a consulting producer-writer. It was a fun writers room, but the show duplicated the fate of my ill-fated series, Push, and was cancelled after only two episodes had aired. The most memorable thing about the experience was that it was filmed in the same converted warehouse as my alma mater The Wonder Years. Turns out you can go home again, just not for very long.

I was again hired as a consulting* producer-writer on a newly ordered teen soap for the old WB network, One Tree Hill. Before the cameras even rolled, the show was already in trouble, the writing dangerously behind schedule and a production start date approaching like a category five hurricane, so after some executive shenanigans, I was bumped up to showrunner which was akin to being handed the helm of the post-iceberg Titanic. I’m happy to say with the help of my own Rosemarie, the lovely and talented Jennifer Cecil, along with the brilliant Mike Kelley and a great writing staff, we righted the ship and the show evolved into a modest hit. After two seasons, I was growing tired of reliving my teen years yet again, so I resigned to pursue development, then watched in astonishment as the series went on to run for 9 seasons.

*A consulting producer on a TV writing staff is usually an upper-level, more experienced writer working part time on the show to help out with writing as needed.

After selling a pilot script to Fox that didn’t get made, I went back to consulting. Windfall was another short-lived show about a group of friends who buy a winning lottery ticket together and hijinks ensue. The show’s characters were much luckier than the show itself. Another cancellation. My clearest memory of my time on that series is my parking place of all things. With its neatly painted MARK B. PERRY sign, it was right next to one of the show’s stars, LUKE PERRY (no relation). We were parked in alphabetical order.

You may recall some years ago a writers’ assistant on the show Friends brought suit against the producers for sexual harassment based on her exposure to the raunchy comments and behavior of her bosses and their writers room. In those pre-“Me Too” days, the California Supreme Court gave the producers a sort of “creative rights” pass. To be clear, I did not work on Friends, but I’m pretty sure their room was Mister Roger’s Neighborhood compared to the bawdy behavior on ABC’s What About Brian, which is where I landed (again as a consultant) after Windfall. As filthy as it was hilarious (and I mean that in a good way), I adored every minute of working in that roomful of incredibly talented people. Oh, and I have a great story about a power struggle between myself and a well-known A-list mega-writer-producer (sorry, no link). Not over anything creative, but over a parking space of all things. Me and parking spaces. I detect a theme.

After Brian crashed and burned, I found myself being wined and dined by my old pal producer-director Ken Olin (thirtysomething), producer wunderkind Greg Berlanti (Dawson’s Creek and eight million other shows), and playwright Jon Robin Baitz (The Substance of Fire), all working to seduce me into taking the job as showrunner on the second season of Baitz’s first TV series, the ABC hit Brothers & Sisters. With a cast including Sally Field, Calista Flockhart, Rachel Griffiths, Dave Annabelle, Balthazar Getty, and Matthew Rhys, the show was very high profile and thus important to the network. I was as delighted to join this prestigious production as I was to flee from it somewhere around episode 10 or 11. You want industry dirt? Ask me about Brothers & Sisters!

During the Writers Guild of America strike of 2007, as I convalesced from Brothers & Sisters, a friend from my Party of Five and Windfall days, P.K. Simonds, called and asked if I’d like to come collaborate on the CBS Friday night hit Ghost Whisperer. They specifically wanted me to inject a bit more humor into the very serious supernatural drama. My two seasons and change on that series ended up being one of my most creatively fun experiences and earned me the as yet unchallenged distinction of working on three—count ’em three—series starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. Top that! It was also during this time I rediscovered the first two chapters of my novel, and finally sat down to finish it.

I’ve always said be nice to everybody in this crazy business because it’s the right thing to do and you never know when you might be begging them for a job. In 2011, Mike Kelley, who had worked for me and helped me rescue One Tree Hill in its first season, asked to sit down with me to talk about working for him on his show, Revenge. In fact, it was during our meeting that he received The Phone Call from the head of ABC, informing Mike that the network was picking up his pilot to series. I feel so fortunate to have joined him as his second in command. The show was, as The New Yorker wrote, “venomously delicious,” and when Mike handed me an early draft of an early episode and said “fix it!” I took his command to heart. I holed up at home for three days and did what we called a page one rewrite, and, as Mike will tell you, helped establish the voice and tone of the show. I love love loved writing that show and watching the produced episodes as they went through postproduction and to air. I would have stayed beyond the first two seasons had Mike and I not been the victims of some devious back-stage real-life villainy not unlike our show’s vengeful protagonist, Emily Thorne. In this case, it was Life Imitating Art, and makes for a jaw dropper of a good behind-the-scenes story. You want Revenge stories? Invite me to your book club! Visit my Book Club page for details!

My phone rang and it was “work wife” and mentor, Jill Gordon, once again asking me to come help on another show she wrote and produced that had just been picked up by NBC. Heartbeat was based on the book Heart Matters by Dr. Kathy Magliato. starred Melissa George as a brilliant cardiac surgeon. Highlights (besides working with Jill, I mean) include perhaps my favorite stupid “network notes call” story ever and getting to meet and work with the comic genius Paul Dooley, who had first enraptured me when I was in college and saw him as the dad in Steve Tesich’s absolute gem of a perfect movie, Breaking Away. The incomparable Helen Shaver directed my episode, and working with her was a dream. I was having so much fun that—you guessed it—the show was cancelled mid-way through the first season.

If working with the one-and-only Dolly Parton is the cherry on top of my television writing career, then I can retire a very happy man. My friend Dorothy Parker—I mean Lisa Melamed—was working as the second-in-command on Dolly’s anthology series for Netflix, Dolly Parton’s Heartstrings. Most of the scripts were being freelanced and Lisa called and asked if I’d be interested in writing their LGBTQ+ themed episode inspired by Dolly’s hit “Two Doors Down.” Having grown up in Atlanta longing to work in tv and film, it was kind of surreal to return there for the shoot. It was also an amazing experience and I felt like I’d died and gone to southern gay boy heaven. I’m so happy to say Dolly Parton is everything you’d think she is and then some. For someone so self-deprecating about her big wigs and boobs and plastic surgery, she’s one of the most genuine and kind people you’ll ever hope to meet. I was honored to help add a GLAAD Award to her list of accolades. I nearly fainted when she said my name at the live-stream awards. Thanks, Dorothy and Dolly!

In addition to all the shows I’ve worked on, I’ve also pitched, created, and written more unsold pilots than I care to count, but that’s a discussion for another time. As to what comes next for me, well, if y’all buy enough books, I’m hoping to turn And Introducing Dexter Gaines into a feature film or limited series for streaming. And while Dexter himself might beg to differ, in this business, dreams really do sometimes come true.