I had the honor of speaking with Emmy-winning writer and executive producer Simran Baidwan, who has helped shape The Pitt into one of television’s most distinctive medical dramas. Much like ER defined the ‘90s and Grey’s Anatomy the early aughts, The Pitt captures our post-COVID reality, shining a light on complex characters and the human condition. Its unique structure—unfolding over a single 15-hour emergency shift—challenges the writers to chart deep emotional journeys in real time.

Baidwan and I discussed her meaningful contribution to Season 2: the introduction of nurse Lena Handzo, who also serves as a death doula. Baidwan’s research highlighted how many nurses, particularly during COVID, quietly took on this end-of-life role. 

We also touched on her inspiring pivot from law to Hollywood. Her journey—from the courtroom to an award-winning writers’ room—is as compelling as the stories she crafts. I am so grateful for our conversation and for creators like Baidwan who continue to push the industry forward.

The Pitt compresses an entire season into a single 15-hour shift. How does that structure change the way you think about character development compared to a traditional medical drama?

That’s a great question because, in many traditional shows—or at least the shows I’ve worked on—a season spans days, weeks, or even months. This show is really trying to capture a slice of people’s lives over 15 hours in a single day. You might see very subtle, nuanced changes during those hours, and we have to remind ourselves that these people just had coffee 12 hours ago. They’re still trying to process what the day is bringing them, which is really fun and different. It’s a great creative challenge for us.

How did your experience working on other medical dramas prepare you for the specific demands of The Pitt?

It was great to have all that experience working on medical shows. The idea of researching medical cases or writing about them wasn’t intimidating because I had such a wonderful foundation from working on House, The Good Doctor, and Royal Pains. That background helped me understand the medical language and writing requirements.

But what may have been even more influential was writing for shows that were very character-forward. On series like Manifest and Ordinary Joe, you’re really leaning into complex characters and the human condition. Ultimately, that’s what we hope we’re doing with The Pitt: putting healthcare workers at the forefront. What are their points of view? What are their perspectives? How do the cases and events that come through their emergency department doors affect them?

There’s a lot of tension in the series, with both intense and quieter moments. What writing techniques do you use to maintain that balance?

I’m a big believer in outlining. We create a beat sheet and really break every story down together in the writers’ room, which is great because we can look at each other and ask whether we’re hitting everything we want to show onscreen.

After that, we do a weave with the beats. You’re essentially writing out everything that happens in an A-story with a character and patient, chronologically, and then weaving it into the acts. We ask ourselves: Where will it have the most impact? Where does it make the most sense within the medical story? Do we need three minutes between every defibrillation, or do we need 15? You have to consider the technical aspects.

Then we create a very detailed outline. The writer assigned to the episode goes off and writes it, and then we all come back together to review it. We look each other in the eye and ask whether it’s working. Everyone gives feedback, and then the writer goes off and drafts the script.

After that, we do the same thing again. It’s a system of checks and balances—making sure we’re hitting the tone and every beat of the emotional arc. The collaborative process is my favorite part of writing for television because it’s so easy to develop tunnel vision as a writer. When you have a room full of people who care just as much about your script as they do their own, it’s really wonderful.

I think that’s a testament to Scott Gemmill, who leads by example. He puts his own scripts and outlines through the same process. It creates a safe space where we’re all able to take feedback and improve the work. Everyone cares deeply about every episode, whether their name is on it or not. That’s what makes us a successful show.

The death doula is a relatively new concept for many viewers. What did you hope to bring to the screen through that storyline with Lena and Roxy in Season 2?

For me, that story was really important. We’ve told some impactful stories about death in the emergency department. People usually come into the ER on one of the worst days of their lives, and the deaths we’ve portrayed in Season 1 were often sudden and unexpected.

Even with the elderly patient, Pace Spencer, in the beautiful episode Noah Wyle wrote, the family wasn’t prepared for the next steps or for comfort care. How do we move forward? How do we accept that our father is no longer going to be with us?

I wanted to show death in a different way. Not to suggest that death can be happy, but to show that there can be beauty in it. There’s something meaningful about giving people ownership over how they pass and the end-of-life decisions they make for themselves.

So often, people find themselves in situations they weren’t prepared for and don’t know how to navigate. That applies not only to those caring for elderly family members but also to people facing all kinds of terminal illnesses. It was important to me to portray someone who was a young mother—a woman in her 40s with children and a terminal illness—taking control of those decisions.

The role of the death doula is centuries old, much like the role of a birth doula. Having someone help bring you into life and someone help guide you at the end of life is something I really wanted to honor. We see that approach more often in other cultures.

As a Southeast Asian person, I grew up with elders in our home who passed away there. It was never viewed as a burden. It was about making them as comfortable as possible and allowing them to remain part of the family. I recognize that kind of care is a privilege many people don’t have, which is why it felt important to highlight that story.

In my research, I learned that many nurses pivoted into this kind of work after COVID, either part-time or full-time. They had witnessed so many people dying alone, holding up iPads so loved ones could say goodbye. It was heartbreaking and had a profound impact on them. You can’t completely shut off that kind of emotion.

I think many of them saw a need to help create more connection between patients and the end-of-life process. Looking at all of those elements, I thought it would be meaningful to have one of our own night-shift characters return and reveal that this is what she does on the side. It’s another form of caregiving and another way of showing up for people.

Can you talk about your conversations with real-life healthcare workers? How does that contribute to the process of building these characters? Do you actively seek out healthcare professionals?

Absolutely.

How does that work?

We’re very fortunate. This season, we actually have three ER doctors—either former physicians or doctors doing other work—who are writers on the show. Dr. Joe Sachs was with us in Season 1, Dr. Mel Herbert joined us in Season 2, and Dr. Joshua Troak joined us in Season 3.

In addition, when we’re shooting, we have real ER physicians with us throughout the entire process, from preparation through production. Many of them come from Cedars or UCLA and moonlight on the show. They’re there every day to make sure we’re authentically portraying how emergency physicians would operate.

We also have real emergency department nurses playing nurses on the show. Many of them even have speaking roles and are now members of SAG-AFTRA. If you walked into a hospital in Los Angeles, there’s a good chance one of our nurses could actually be your nurse. (laughs)

Beyond that, we do a tremendous amount of research. We’re fortunate that Joe has extensive connections in the emergency medicine community. The Norman Lear Center also has a wonderful program called Hollywood, Health & Society, which connects writers with experts across a wide range of fields.

If we want to learn about metastatic breast cancer, we can speak with a specialist. We also consult experts on social services and healthcare systems, including topics like Medicaid access in Pittsburgh, because Pennsylvania’s system is very different from California’s.

It’s important to us to get those details right and avoid spreading misinformation. We want the show to reflect what’s really happening in the world, and it would be irresponsible not to do our homework.

That’s so interesting. It makes the show even more meaningful because of all those different perspectives.

I also want to talk about your career. You started in the legal profession, went to law school, and then made a major career pivot. Could you talk about that journey? And do you have any advice for women and gender-expansive people who want to make a similar shift, especially when they don’t often see themselves represented in leadership roles?

That’s honestly what I used to think too.

As an undergraduate, I double-majored in political science, with an emphasis in law, and communication, with an emphasis in film and television. But I studied film and TV mostly for fun. It was something I loved, but I wasn’t writing scripts.

When it came time to decide what to do next, I never even considered film school. Like you said, I thought that world was for white men. I didn’t know any women or people of color who had pursued it. So I went to law school instead, which I also enjoyed. I passed the bar and worked at a law firm.

After a few years, though, there was a creative itch I couldn’t ignore. I’m very fortunate to have a supportive partner. At the time, we lived in San Francisco, and he told me, “We don’t have a mortgage, children, or even a dog. If you want to explore this, do it now. You don’t want to regret never trying.”

So I took an 85% pay cut and became an assistant—fetching grilled cheese sandwiches, answering phones, and learning how the sausage was made. It was incredible. I think of it as paid graduate school. I recognize that it was a privileged position to be in, but it was also eye-opening.

Very quickly, while working as an assistant on Judging Amy, I realized there was an entire group of people whose job was to build narratives and essentially sit in a room playing make-believe. I found that fascinating.

I’d always written short stories, though I never shared them. They just sat in a drawer.

Through that process, I began reading scripts and studying television. I’d pause my TiVo and write down what happened in each scene, not realizing I was essentially creating beat sheets and outlines. I never took formal writing classes, but being immersed in that environment taught me how to write.

Eventually, I wrote spec scripts, got into a writing program, found representation, and began working professionally on a show.

One thing I appreciate about this industry, compared with law, is that there isn’t a single prescribed path. Law requires a bachelor’s degree, law school, and the LSAT. Television is much less linear. There are many different routes into the profession, and because of that, we get voices from different cultures, communities, and life experiences—which is exactly what television needs more of.

That’s wonderful. I’m excited to share your story because I think it will resonate with a lot of readers. As a final question, what do you hope people take away from The Pitt?

I hope the show gives people a sense of hope and reminds them that humanity is not dead.

We’re living through unprecedented times that can often feel dark and difficult. If the show can serve as a beacon of hope and a reminder that there is still good in the world, in our communities, and in our country, then we’ve done something meaningful.

I hope viewers can look to these people and see examples of compassion, support, and service. Maybe that helps us come together, become better examples for our children, and build a better future.

Ultimately, I hope the show reminds people that there is still light at the end of the tunnel.