TV’s Gig Economy Trap: Why Too Many Prod-Co Founders Are Still Thinking Like Freelancers

You own a business now. It’s time to act like it.

Here’s a problem no one talks about: most TV company owners still think like freelancers. It’s not really their fault. Many of today’s founders like myself came up through the production trenches - self-shooters, producers, APs, edit directors - hustling job to job, chasing the next gig.

That mindset made them great at delivery but it’s also what’s holding them back because when your instinct is to “get the commission, make the show, move on,” you’re not building a company. You’re just wrapping a limited company around your labour. Perhaps worse, you’re acting like a jobbing tradesperson like a plumber turning up to install someone else’s system with no upside after the job is done.

But that’s not what you do. You’re not just providing a service.
You’re creating the idea. The IP. The thing of value. The name.
The format.
The tone.
The entire blueprint. That’s not pipework. That’s architecture and when you hand it over, for free, or for cheap, or “just to get the commission”, you’re not being clever, you’re just building someone else’s asset.

Yes, obviously better to have a gig than no gig at all. But if that gig comes at the cost of your rights, your brand, your format, your future then you’re not growing a business - you’re just leasing your best ideas to someone else. However, now that the government is finally beginning to listen and is proposing to give you the tools to act like an entrepreneur and stop you thinking like a simple service provider.

The invisible goldmine

The UK is a powerhouse when it comes to global factual formats. Not just shiny-floor entertainment but real-world, specialist factual that quietly travels to dozens of territories and pulls in millions. Wheeler Dealers has been sold in over 150 countries. The Science of Stupid has been remade in more than a dozen local versions. First Man Out built a loyal, global fanbase from survival-obsessed audiences in Europe to military networks in Asia. These aren’t just one-offs. They’re brands. Formats. Franchises.

And in most cases, the people who originally developed them? No longer control them. In factual, perhaps more than any other genre, producers are lulled into thinking: this is a simple show - how valuable can it really be?

Answer: very.

Because it’s not about the headline - it’s about the repeatability. The low cost, high sell-through. The fact that you can dub it, localise it, spin it off, or re-version it for years. Channels love that. Investors love that. Distributors love that. But if you gave the rights away? You’re the only one who doesn’t benefit from it.

And here’s the irony. The shows I mentioned above - these are great formats - but they’re, in my opinion, massively under-exploited pieces of IP. Why? Because the channels that commission them are hungry beasts. They order, broadcast, move on. They just want content. They're not wired to think like brand builders.

The weird thing is, their aggressive rights grabs have created a kind of stalemate. The producers are so disincentivised by the deals they signed that they’ve no reason to push the IP forward either. The rights are locked up, but the engine is idle. Everyone moves on to the next commission, and the show sits there, under-used, under-exploited, undervalued. That’s not how you build equity. That’s how you waste it.

Desperation is expensive

Here’s the thing no one tells you: broadcasters and streamers often want all rights, in perpetuity, worldwide - not because they’ll exploit them, but because they can. Their lawyers are trained to capture everything "just in case." But most rights never get used. That board game, that podcast, that tie-in book? They’re not in anyone’s active plan. They're just parked. For 20 years. And that’s the trap. You give up optionality - just in case they want it - and in return you get… nothing.

So unless you actively carve out those rights, you won’t be able to make anything else from your clever idea and by the time the deal term ends, the show’s likely rinsed, irrelevant, or unrevivable. Ask yourself: other than scripted dramas, when was the last time you watched a factual show from 20+ years ago?

That’s not a library. That’s a graveyard.

I saw a show taken from its own creators

Yes, I’ve genuinely seen it happen. When I was a commissioner, I witnessed a production company lose its own show. They’d created it, shaped it, delivered the first two seasons. Then, once the numbers looked good, the channel handed it to their in-house team to continue. They didn’t break any laws. They didn’t even break the deal because the deal had already done that job for them. It was watertight from the broadcaster’s point of view. The original producer had signed away too much, too early.

I wasn’t at the channel when the original deal was done, but looking back, it was clear the company had been young, and probably desperate for the commission. They took the offer on the table but that offer came with strings. The result?
The channel made millions.
The production company got left behind.
They didn’t even control the spin-offs - we were allowed to give those to other companies entirely.

So let this be your red flag: just because a channel loves your idea, doesn’t mean they love you, no matter how many smiling execs tell you otherwise.

When the numbers look promising, the gloves come off and remember, if you’ve signed badly, they don’t need your permission to move forward without you.

Brand name first. Everything else follows.

Once a show becomes a hit, that’s when the offshoots begin. You’ll see local-language versions in Germany or Korea. You’ll see celebrity specials, YouTube reboots, merchandising experiments and every time they happen, if you’ve given up too much - you’re watching from the sidelines. Which is why the name is everything. Own the name of the show and you own the name of the brand.

That’s the key that unlocks everything else. Without it, you can’t enforce rights. You can’t gatekeep spin-offs. You can’t demand a licence fee. But with it? You’re holding the keys. Every local remake, every international version, every derivative product they all have to go through you. So when you’re sitting at that deal table and the lawyer slides across the “all rights” clause, ask yourself this: Are they protecting your brand - or trying to buy it cheap?

What’s the long game?

This is the real test. Not whether your show gets commissioned but whether it lasts because if you want to build a business, not just a busy year, you need to plan for what happens after transmission. That starts with one question: Does this idea have legs? Could it become a book, a board game, a podcast?
Could it travel? Be remade? Generate merch or a community? If yes - protect it. License selectively. Carve out those rights.
If no, then maybe you trade them. But do it eyes open because the worst deals aren’t the ones you walk away from. Stop thinking about what you get now - but what you could be getting in a couple of years time. Trust me you’ll be thanking me for this advice.
The deals you sign too quickly will be the ones you regret for decades.

However, I get it, I run a prodco, it’s hard when you’re chasing your first wins. Every deal feels like David vs Goliath at the beginning - but it does seem that the tables have just begun to tilt in our favour in the UK.

The Government Just Gave You Permission to Think Bigger

For the first time, government policy is catching up with what the smartest producers have been saying for years: intellectual property is capital. Production companies are growth businesses and rights, when properly protected, can power jobs, exports, and reinvestment. In the latest Creative Industries Sector Vision, there’s a quiet revolution underway:

• IP-backed finance pilots
• More support from the British Business Bank - so creative startups can finally access debt and equity
• A working group to dismantle the barriers to IP-backed lending across the industry Right now, it’s just talk.

A roadmap for what the creative economy could look like in a few years.
But the language has already shifted from subsidy to scale-up. Will it come to fruition? Ask Lisa Nandy, the UK’s Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport. But if it does, it could mark a genuine sea change.
It would allow startups to flourish.
It would give producers control of their futures.
It would mean no more bowing to mega-corporations and overreaching broadcasters.

Until then though, here’s the catch: You’ll only benefit if you’ve kept your IP.
You’ll only qualify if you’re thinking like an entrepreneur - not a freelancer.
You’ll only grow if you’ve protected your most valuable asset: your rights.

So prodco founders remember - you’re not a freelancer anymore

You didn’t build a company just to be a producer for hire on your own idea, you started it because you wanted to create a sustainable long term business that would allow you to make the content you wanted to. But to do that you need to build it to keep control. To build value. To grow. That means no more defaulting to 20-year rights deals.
No more giving away the brand name “just to get it made.”
No more treating success like a one-time paycheque. You are not a freelancer anymore.
You’re a founder. Start acting like one.
And whatever you do - don’t give away the name.