If you’ve ever wondered why nine types of producers are listed at the beginning of TV shows, or whether one writer made up Mork’s dialogue and another wrote Mindy’s, you’re probably also the type who looked behind your TV set as a toddler to see if muppets were hiding there after Sesame Street was over. In honour of peculiar people like you (and me), this week’s TV column is devoted to demystifying the process of putting together a TV show.

I had the curtain peeled back for me when I spent a summer in Beverly Hills working for two junior executrixes at Brillstein-Grey Entertainment, the production company responsible for The Sopranos, The Larry Sanders Show and other fine programs. Besides discovering that my master’s degree was worth less to my bosses than their shoes, I also learned that my bosses bowed to an unlikely master themselves: the televison writer. Virtually every call I took, every meeting I arranged was with a writer whom my bosses were either trying to woo or desperate to keep. Whereas in film, everyone knows the director is God, in television, the writer holds the same power; it’s just not trumpeted as much. Hence the fame gap between Francis Ford Coppola (The Godfather) and David Chase (The Sopranos). Hence also the stuff TV writers get away with. For instance, it’s a well-bemoaned fact that film directors can fire and hire screenwriters at will. But on a TV show, the head writer (also known as the show runner, executive producer, or Master and Commander) might hire a different director each week and no one bats an eyelash. Of course, film directors and TV writers alike must answer to even higher powers — the almighty buck, studio busybodies, the FCC nipple patrol — but that’s a given in show business.

The big difference between film directors and TV writers comes down to the work itself. Film directing is a solo job; co-directors are as rare as Siamese twins. Television writing, however, is a collaboration. The exceptions are David E. Kelley, who wrote most of the episodes of Ally McBeal and The Practice by himself, especially the crappy ones, and J. Michael Straczynski, who wrote 92 of the 110 episodes of Babylon 5.

Here’s how a TV show gets made: someone comes up with an idea for a show, writes the first episode and show "bible" (details on the setting and characters, their pasts and futures, etc.) and pitches this package to a studio and/or network. If the show makes the cut, that writer becomes the show runner and hires some writers for his or her team. This team brainstorms what happens over the season. The show runner then outlines the season and assigns writers to different episodes. At least one episode must be written by a freelancer according to Writer’s Guild rules, which explains why there’s often one episode per season that feels like a throwaway — basically, it is.

After a script comes in, the show runner goes over it to make sure characters sound consistent from episode to episode. (You could always tell when Joss Whedon tweaked the dialogue on Angel.) But there’s never one writer per character or other such nonsense. Episodes are inspired by the team, outlined by the show runner, scripted by one writer (or by writing partners) and then polished by the show runner before getting delivered to cast and crew. This process starts a few months before a show airs and continues throughout the season.

Of course, a lot more is involved in putting together a show — designing costumes and sets, composing music, editing, etc. In film, the director has the final word on these things. In television, the show runner does. That’s why he or she also gets the title of executive producer. In case you haven’t guessed it yet, every writer on the team also gets to be called a producer of some sort — hence the long and confusing opening credits. The titles correspond to rank and nothing else, so the only difference between a supervising producer and a producer is seniority, not extra-special supervisory ability. From entry level up, the pecking order is: staff writer, story editor, executive story editor, co-producer, producer, supervising producer co-executive producer and executive producer. Sometimes a writer who doesn’t want to work hard gets called a consulting producer. Consulting producers don’t write much — they just bequeath ideas. The black sheep of the producing family is the line producer, who does no writing but lords over the technical side of production. When the credits say "Produced by," they’re referring to the line producer.

The last thing to clear up is how writing credits get divided. If one writer comes up with the story for an episode but another writer drafts it, the credit is split in two: "story by" and "teleplay by." I suspect this split also results when the first writer does such a lousy job that someone else comes in for a drastic rewrite. But egos are carefully protected in Hollywood. My bosses chortled over how writers tend to fail upwards — if they’re fired as producer on one series, they’re invariably hired as supervising producer on the next. But what else can you expect from an industry that calls the guy who coils cables its "best boy."