Sociable Commentaries

Quite a lot that I know about writing, TV and film-making I have learnt from listening to commentaries on DVDs. I presume other people do this as well: an enormous wealth of useful information is available on the secondary audio track.

Alas, there is a lot of dross as well: I remember one, on a Fawlty Towers disc I believe, that consists of pretty much nothing but the director saying "This is a mid shot..." then "...and this is a long shot..." then "...and we're back to a mid shot now" for six times thirty minutes! And this is why I'm very excited about the forthcoming Fawlty re-release where John Cleese is commenting on every single episode. My wife does not understand this: she just thinks I'm buying stuff again that I already own, for the sake of hearing someone waffle over the action. Which is not even slightly true, obviously. Obviously.

In order that some of the dross be avoided, and that perhaps people can better explain purchases to their wives, husbands or partners (or at any rate just blame me), here are a couple of recommendations. One of the first and best I ever heard was Robert Rodriguez's talk track on El Mariachi, which is a veritable masterclass on getting the most out of a 'low-to-no' budget.

Another good pick is the first and second series sets of Father Ted, on each episode of which Graham Linehan details the writing process, explains why some things work and some things don't, picks holes, mercilessly slags off his own work in the Christmas special. At one point, he even starts explaining how he's going to make the commentaries on future episodes work better. He is incapable of opening his mouth without being informative and entertaining, and it's worth the weight of any comedy-writing workshop, trust me.

My latest commentary hero is Stephen Gallagher. As long-term readers and friends will know, I am a true Who geek. I buy all the Doctor Who DVDs as they come out, and watch and listen to all the extras. Whatever you think of the stories, Peter Davison's tend to have the best commentaries. Peter is always prepared, and always informative, but usually quite tongue in cheek too. It's a good mix. But on recent release Terminus (currently only available in a box set called the 'Black Guardian Trilogy') Stephen G bests him in both trivia and jokes. I would almost go as far as to recommend it even if you don't like Doctor Who (your wives, husbands or partners would love that, I'm sure). He really is that brilliant, and keeps a nifty blog too - check out Hauling Like a Brooligan, if you haven't already (and why would you not have, hmm?!).

And if anyone has any other recommendations of informative and/or entertaining DVD commentaries (film or TV), they'll be gratefully received at the usual address. Cheers.

What I did on my holidays...

Hello, yes - I'm still alive, and so is the blog. I've had this place redecorated ("don't like it!") and changed my profile pic now that my hair's grown out a but and I'm more comfortable with my short-haired 'do'.

So, what have I been up to these last two months? Here's what: no writing. None. No scripts, no treatments, no outlines, no blog entries, barely any tweets, nary even a note for the milkman. It will probably shock a few people that I'm able to admit this. Thou shalt write every day is the first commandment of writers, after all. Oh well. After a sustained period of about five years solidly working on projects both paid for and speculative, I needed a break. Not a lot was happening on collaborations, or with my optioned stuff, and I had some 'real life' stuff to attend to (more on that later).

Does this mean I'm not a professional? Well, I've talked on the blog before about how my 9-5 day job is both a curse and a blessing, as it allows me wriggle-room when choosing what I work on, as my family won't be starving if I choose not to do particular jobs. Of course, this brings with it the risk that a golden opportunity or valuable learning experience might be passed up. Oh well, again. From talking to other professional writers, it seems that the credit crunch is biting, and opportunities are thin on the ground at the moment anyway.

And I wouldn't have had much attention to give them even if they had arisen. In summary: over the last eight weeks, I have escaped a heavy bout of redundancies at the day job, but will be waving good bye to a few old mates soon, as they weren't so lucky. Then, I had the responsibility of giving my sister - who lives about two and a half hours away from me - away at her wedding, and I was expecting the birth of my second son. Both these things are joyful occasions. But some of the joy rubs off when they are both due to happen on the same day.

Yes, as well as all the work preparing the home and family for the onslaught of a newborn, and working double hard at the day job to prepare for paternity leave, a lot of the weeks and days approaching the 15th August were very stressful, as this was not only the date of the wedding, but also the best guess due date of the baby too.

I only have one sibling, and my Dad is sadly no longer with us. I am the only close male relative of my sister - I have to be up at her place, get her to the church, walk her up the aisle, and later do a speech. Have to. I also have to be close to my wife, as I will be needed as her birth partner, to help her give birth to my child, then look after her once he's born. Have to do that too. So, it was up to luck and mother nature as to whether I'd get to do both these things. It was looking very dicey at some points. But it all worked out, my very tired wife, my son and I attended the wedding, came home the following day (without having a baby on the M25) and the day after that my wife went into labour. It's all about timing.

So personal circumstances have got in the way of my writing, but I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing. Personal circumstances are what feed into our writing, and make it better. Thou shalt live every day should be the first commandment of writers... and then write it all down, of course. Besides - as any of the Doctor Who fans reading this will know - there is a celebrated anecdote from the late Seventies of a normally dependable writer finding himself unable to complete a script because of personal circumstances. A crew was assigned and shooting was getting very close, so the producer and script editor had to step in, rework the scripts such as they were over the course of a weekend (hosed down with whisky and black coffee, so the legend goes). That story - a combination of the work of all three men - turned out to be City of Death, a fan favourite and still the highest-rated episode in the show's history. Score one for personal circumstances.

And I was lying anyway about doing absolutely no writing. Of course, I had to write a speech for the wedding. I mention this, because I was dreading it. I put it off for ages. Maybe this was writer's block, but I don't really believe in writer's block. I did the usual thing of staring at a piece of blank paper almost until my forehead started bleeding. But I couldn't think of anything. Do you know what I did in the end? I wrote it. Just put finger to keypad and got it out of my system; it took less than an hour. And on the day, it went down a storm and people were congratulating me for the rest of the evening. I felt like a writer again.

So, I feel good for my break, as if I'm getting some perspective. I stood atop the tower and looked down, I walked along the rim of the volcano and did my dance. Now, I return home with the elixir, etc, etc. Time to do some writing again. It seems apposite to be publishing this on the 31st August; September traditionally marks the start of a new school term. I'm on the cusp of phase 2 of my (so-called) career. It's going to be fun...

The 'Stuff To Do' pile

My extensive research for the Writers' Academy is underway. This will mean watching and analysing all the shows, and I also plan to follow up my successful spec script exercise writing a modern Doctor Who episode, with a similar exercise for the show Doctors. Plus the day job, and some other writing bits and bobs (see below). And, you know, eating and sleep. So, posts might become a bit sporadic around here for a bit; because of this, I am doing a catch-all update of what I've got on the go, which will hopefully serve until I can next give the blog some TLC.

'Santa Baby', the Christmas TV project I'm working on with Colin Stevens of Deep End Films, is at the treatment stage; Colin is preparing some notes right now, after which there will no doubt be a new draft.

'Life Support' has just been reworked (it was the example script I sent with my Academy application). There were still a couple of flashback sequences sticking to the previous draft like barnacles, but I've scraped them off, and now it's pretty much the straight narrative I set out to write initially (though it took me a very circular route to get there).

Following the lead of the mighty Stack, I am seriously considering a self-produced short film. I have a short screenplay called 'The Last Intake' that, once it's had a polish, needs to be made and seen. This will definitely be something for the Autumn, but I shall be considering the logistics and doing that polish sooner than that. I'll also be thoroughly digesting the recent filming diaries of both Danny and Dan Turner to get some tips.

Plus, as most of the stuff I've been working on lately has been straight drama, I'm doing the first draft of a genre feature script, working title 'The Late Shift': no fuss, no over-thinking, just adding to it whenever I get a spare moment on a commuter train: getting it written rather than getting it right. And having fun. I outlined it a long time ago, and have been looking for a chance to get it drafted ever since. I've so far done 5 pages, and reading them back is definitely making me laugh. Shame about that, really, as it's a horror script. (I'm pulling your leg, it's actually a comedy horror and is supposed to make you laugh. Tee hee.)

Finally, if I get a moment between all that lot, this competition that Laura has posted about is very tempting too.

I'm Sorry. I'm So Sorry...

Actually, I'm not sorry at all to report that, as comes the end of March, so comes the end of the 'For Fun' spec challenge. I have completed an absolutely useless, totally unsaleable, but enormously enjoyable (in the making if not the reading) spec script for Doctor Who. And I rather like it.

I wrote it for David Tennant, with no companion, and 45 minutes long. I didn't go mad with Daleks and Cybermen, I didn't do a reboot, I didn't kill off the Brigadier. I just wrote an episode that I thought could nestle into mid-season next to one of Stephen Greenhorn's ones, with no returning characters or fanboy-ness. Well, alright there are a couple of fannish references if you look hard enough, but this again is not something out of whack with the current house style.

I have, as is the rules, exchanged the screenplay with the other members of the Script Challenge group. The mighty Stevyn Colgan has also written a Doctor Who script which I'm looking forward enormously to reading. Another writer has had a crack at a Primeval, and so I'm going to have to watch at least one episode of Primeval before I read that one, so I know who all the characters are! Well, it had to happen sooner or later. We'll all give feedback on each others work, as is the form, and then on to the next challenge. And after that, somehow, the script will end up being passed to Steven Moffat's inbox. He will read it, realise I'm a genius, get me to write four episodes for Series Six, I will be showered with riches and all the gold I can eat, people will dance in the street as I walk by, and...

...sorry, lost myself there. No, none of that will happen, alas. But I might publish the script online, if the feedback comes back reasonable. I can't usually do that as scripts are either intended to be sold, or under confidentiality agreements, but for this one: it doesn't matter.

For Fun

Two pieces of writing will be taking up most of my next few weeks; one of them is proper serious work (the comedy), and one is just for fun (the drama).

The comedy is a TV project I've been working on with Colin Stevens for a while now, and he and I will be launching a web presence for it very soon: I shall keep you posted on this here blog. The drama? Well, it's very rare to have some screenwriting to do that's 100% for the enjoyment of doing it, with no hope to sell or make the piece afterward. And it's quite refreshing. Here's how it came about:

As many readers of this blog, and others in the scribosphere, will know, I regularly meet up with a group of writers in London for drinking, gossiping and the setting of script challenges. These are usually standard things: write a radio play, write a script report, finish something you've started, and all have the same timeline: one calendar month elapsed to complete, doesn't have to be good, but it does have to be finished, else you face a round of mockery from your your peers at the next drinking session. I've gone in for many of these in the past, but I don't normally post about a challenge as I'm superstitious, and worry that if I shine a little light on it, I'm bound to fail to deliver.

The latest challenge, to be completed in the month of March (and not a single word of which is to be consigned to hard copy before midnight tonight), is to write a spec episode of a current UK TV series. Unlike the US, in Britain this is a bit of a silly idea, as - according to every 'how to' writing guide you'll ever read - no one wants to see a spec episode of anything, and they'd rather see something all-original (although one occasionally hears of an exception to this).

Boring old best behaviour would be for me to do a spec episode of Doctors, as it's the nearest you can get to entry level TV, and I'm currently watching the episodes and studying the format, and I want to get to pitch ideas for the show; but, sod that: I'll do that in April (I don't want to rush it with an arbitrary imposed timeline). I'm going to write a Doctor Who.

This is the closest I'm going to get to a commission to write for the good Doctor any time soon. And it multiplies the silliness: it can't really be shown to anyone as an example of my work, it's for a show that one gets into by invite only and where a showrunner would give you a plotline rather than have you pitch one, and best of all... it doesn't have a publicly available house style at the moment. All the episodes of David Tennant's tenure have been written and are currently being shot, and no one bar Steven Moffat and Piers Wenger knows what the Matt Smith era is going to be like, or even who the companion's going to be played by. There is no other reason to write it than the fun of it...well, maybe there's the humble pie reason too.

An infamous Doctor Who novel author and online critic, who I'm not going to name, keeps a blog where his opinion of other people's TV Doctor Who scripts is never less than forthcoming, and is usually quite critical. When challenged, this person wrote and posted up an example of how they would write a script for Who; I read that script, and disliked it very much. I was quite free with my negative opinion of it at that last writers' meet. Now, it has occurred to me that this is no way to behave about a fellow writer, even one I disagree with. So, the challenge is to do what he did, and create my own script: it will be for a David Tennant-like Doctor, with no regular companion, in a style which would roughly fit within the Russell T Davies years.

I have so many ideas for this - the first Doctor Who script I will have written since the one I co-wrote with a boy called Graham when I was twelve years old which had a Cyber-Dalek hybrid in it - whirling around my head: roll on midnight.

Going Postal

We all know about character development over the course of a drama, it's something we all strive to do, and to do well. But there's another kind of character development, a rarer, non-deliberate kind, where a character endures in a popular medium through many years, multiple writers or production teams, and through multiple trend changes in that medium and in the wider culture. Big Russell, who I seem to be referencing a lot these days, acknowledges this in The Writer's Tale. It's not so much Doctor Who I'm talking about, though there's an echo of it that series: the changes in The Doctor's look and personality are a deliberate function of an individual script, and they are used to prolong the series beyond the presence of one actor. This is more the other way round, when an actor or character stays in place, and the series changes around them, The whims of unfeeling Father Time, and even more unfeeling New Broom Producer inadvertently cause the character to change, sometimes subtly, sometimes not so much.

For example: Dot Cotton used to be a hell of a causal racist. She's not anymore. We all know why this is, and we know it isn't a deliberate change of character on behalf of any one writer, but it's nice to take it at face value and imagine that maybe life has mellowed Dot in that one particular way. Extremely long-running soap characters like Ken Barlow and Ian Beale are rare, but fascinatingly rich: we've seen them young, and we've seen them grow older, and we may even see their (fictional) death one day. The totality of the character's fiction is bigger than any single imagination, and – like life – it can't really be appreciated as a whole, it can only really be glimpsed in little half-hour shaped pieces.

Some types of shows can throw up quirks when their characters are measured against real life. For example, Ken and Ian at least age. Doctor Who fans have to face up to the inevitability that a Doctor's going to come along that's younger than they are. It'll happen to me (and loads of other people - he's so young!) when Matt Smith takes over at the end of this year (David Tennant is about four months older than me, so I've avoided this until now). The writing is clearly on the wall: the show is bigger than any one of its fans (or writers, or producers, or stars). The fictions will go on, when we're all dust. We didn't know how lucky we were when Who was off air, not to have this ever-present ticking clock to measure out our mortality.

Then, you have to feel for the poor people who work on animations, where nothing and no one ages: I remember hearing one of The Simpsons' show-runners (maybe Al Jean) bemoaning the day that he overtook Homer in the age stakes. Homer may be old, bald and fat, but he'll never get older, balder or fatter (except in the episode King Size Homer, before anyone mentions it: I am aware of King Size Homer). We aren't quite so lucky.

All this is as it should be - if a little maudlin for me, but I seem to be in a bit of a 'Oh Shit, I'm getting old' mood at the moment (must be the weather). But what about when this supra-character development makes a well-loved character less interesting and less rich. What if this process causes character un-development? What the hell – if I might be so bold – happened to Postman Pat?

If you're reading this, you probably haven't seen Postman Pat recently. Even if you have because – like me – you have a young child in the house, you might only have seen the most up-to-date version. But, through the beneficence of his older relatives, and charity shops, my boy has accumulated a collection of these things called videos (remember them?!) from every era of Postman Pat. The show has been going so long, it's like a history of children's television over the last twenty-five years. And therein lies the tragedy.

The earliest episodes are quite slow, have very basic hand-made animation, and no lip-sync. Just one male voice doing narration, and putting on all character voices. They remind one of the Sixties and Seventies stop-motion shows like Camberwick Green and The Flumps, and were clearly a continuation of that tradition. This is the incarnation that my son likes the best.

A few years later, the colours seem a bit brighter, the animation a but slicker, but it still has the same wonky charm. Pat has got married (from the episodes I've seen from the early days, it's not clear what his marital status is, but it looks very much like he's a single man who spends a bit too much time with his black-and-white cat). And on the production side, the first major innovation: a woman has become the co-narrator, voicing all the female characters. Still no lip sync, though.

As the years roll on, the show enters the caring sharing late nineties/early twenty-first century and the changes get more pronounced: lip sync arrives, with different actors/voices for each character. Pat's postal patch, Greendale, which once was a small white rural community of stereotypes (vicar, posh lady, spiv, farmer, old washer woman), is now a much more cosmopolitan town peopled by multi-ethnic and disabled stereotypes. This, depending on your outlook, is either an admirable stab at diversity or Burger King kid's meal gang tokenism, but ultimately the widening of the supporting ensemble allows a broader range of stories, so it seems to be a worthwhile thing . Also, Pat has acquired a son, and the children in the cast are pushed much more to the foreground of the stories. Fair enough, again, it is children's show after all.

The final regeneration brings us to the present day: the show has got a new name - Postman Pat: Special Delivery Service - and a new theme tune (although they still use a section of the original theme at the beginning, you couldn't mess too much with that). And now Pat has kit. With a small 'k', I mean: he doesn't have a talking car. Although that's pretty much all he doesn't have: the SDS allots Pat a van, a motorbike with a sidecar, and a helicopter. He even has a mobile phone and SatNav. If this was a podcast rather than a blog, this is the bit where I would half cough, and half say the word 'merchandising' under my breath. But again, don't think I'm being Grumpy Old Man here. Merchandising is great, kid's TV is no longer the cottage industry it used to be in my day, and my boy has lots of Pat toys which he loves. I wouldn't want it any other way. Plus, it's still a good and well-made show.

But what of the star of the show in all this? What of Pat? Reader, I'm afraid to say, he's become a buffoon. And that's the bit that I don't like. Somehow, all of the changes detailed above have had the effect, without anyone necessarily wanting it to be so, of diminishing the main character's intelligence to a very low level. At the start, Pat is a good postman, who no matter what obstacles are in his way, will always get the letters delivered. He even rises to the occasion with a healthy dose of heroism and derring-do when necessary. By the end, though, he is reduced to delivering one package at a time, which he has an alarming inability to do without losing or breaking what's inside. However, he usually improvises some compromise solution at the eleventh hour, which heavily relies on the good will of the people of Greendale, and he keeps his job by the skin of his teeth.

A favourite example is the episode where there is a film festival, and Pat has to deliver the film can of the single movie they are showing. Pat is racing to get the print to the cinema before the screening, when he drops it in a muddy field and ruins it. The package that Pat has been given responsibility for delivering has not only been opened but its contents have been completely destroyed. And for this, they give the man control of a helicopter? Luckily, Pat's son has been making a home movie during this chaos, and this is what is shown at the festival instead. (This is not like any film festival I have ever been to: I couldn't help worrying for the members of the audience sitting at the back thinking 'I paid £350 for a delegate pass for this!')

I'd love to think that there is subtext at play here: that this is a comment upon the effect of increased technology to erode common sense, or a political statement about the deterioration of the Royal Mail's service over the last twenty-five years. But it isn't. They've just turned Postman Pat into a blithering idiot, and it shouldn't be allowed. Tell someone!

T is for Television

A lot of bloggers, and even some people in the real world, commented on The Writer's Tale a few months back; but I haven't seen anything yet about T is for Television by Mark Aldridge and Andy Murray, a brief biography and reasonably detailed career overview (so far) of Doctor Who Confidential's own Russell T Davies.

I've just finished it, and it serves as a perfect companion piece to Russell and Ben Cook's weighty compilation of E-Mail trails from last year. Somewhat perversely - but perhaps it was only to be expected - that semi-autobiography is much more searching and critical than this biography; which is not to say it pulls its punches, singling out some Doctor Who episodes, the first season of Torchwood, and a few other works, as not being up to the RTD standard. But also it's a loving tribute to the big, Welsh giant that's revolutionised Saturday night drama, etc. etc.

Russell - in one of many original interviews done for the book - comes over as passionate and contradictory as always. In one breath he is saying he hasn't ever joined the Writers' Guild because he doesn't think of writing as a job; the next, he's bemoaning the artistic temperament of some writer prima-donnas he's known who've forgotten that "it's a job" and should be done professionally. He also might frustrate the aspiring with his contention that it's easier to get into TV writing now than when he started, but he makes a persuasive case.

Obviously, any attempt to cover over forty years of life and over 20 years of career in 240 pages is going to seem a bit sketchy here and there (but that may be because I'm also concurrently reading Philip Norman's monster John Lennon biog which covers Lennon's life - shorter than RTD's, I think - over 800 pages that don't even talk about the music that much); but, there is some light shone into dusty corners of Russell's CV, like his work on Revelations and Springhill, that have not had much in the way of coverage until now.

It's also full of tidbits of advice from the mighty Rusty, as ever: don't just keep an ear out on the bus for living dialogue, check out the TV schedules too, and learn how to identify the really bad dialogue ("I feel hurt, betrayed, alone"); don't dismiss reality TV, or any genre, as somewhere where you can learn more about life, and therefore become a better writer; and, if you've sent off ten dozen scripts and not got anywhere, maybe it's worth quitting and doing something else. And many others.

Anyway, if you come by a copy, I can heartily recommend it; and I'm not even affiliated with its writers, or publisher - I should be getting a commission at least. Oh well.

"You'll never look at a truncheon quite the same way again!"

Event: "Imaginary Worlds"


Date: Thursday 1st November 2007


Venue: The Guild Centre, King's Cross (not in the usual large conference room, but in the smaller area normally used just for networking - sadly the event seemed a bit undersubscribed.)


The Set Up: Panellists were Phil Ford (PF) writer on The New Captain Scarlet and The Sarah Jane Adventures, Ashley Pharaoh (AP), co-creator and writer of Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes, Adrian Hodges (AH), co-creator and writer of Primeval, and Phillip Palmer (PP), author of SF novel Debatable Space. Questions came from Edel Brosnan (EB), Chair of the Guild's Editorial and Communications Committee.



The Questions, The Answers:

Q. What was it that drew you to the 'imaginative' in your work?
PF: Simply, it's what I always wanted to do. I'd always read science fiction, and always loved the movies. It's great to create a fascinating new world, where you can turn things on their head; as long as you ground things - it has to be about people and relationships. If anything can happen, it doesn't make for good drama.
AP: I fell into it, really, via the premise to Life on Mars. I'm a recent convert, but really really enjoying it.
PP: I've never had a plan - every plan I've ever had has ended in disaster. When I wrote for TV, I went with what was there, which was shows like The Bill. Nick Elliott, ITV drama controller, once told me "We don't make science fiction, we don't like science fiction", so I never tried to pitch those projects in TV. I had a movie that didn't work out, but I rewrote it as a novel, and ended up with a three-book deal.
AH: I'm not so much a fan of science fiction, as I am a fan of a good story. I remember seeing a BBC drama in the early 80's,The Flipside of Dominick Hide, and thinking it was a love story, but told in a wonderfully fresh way. The same was true of Alien, which was at heart a thriller, and so on.


Q. Now that the genre has been revitalised, thanks to shows like Doctor Who and Life on Mars, do you see things going to back to how they were? Is this a fad, or is it here to stay?
AH: I don't think we can go backwards now - the audience has been awakened. Shows will only do well, though, if they're character driven.
PF: It's about stories, and it's about people. It's a shame that commissioning execs didn't realise this - they just hid behind the excuse that SF was too expensive.
AH: It's not a genre that's ever been considered posh.
PF: You can do these stories without many or any special effects.
AH: But technology has played it's part.


(The panel took a few minutes here to recommend a 90's SF serial from ITV, The Last Train - written by Ashley's sometime creative collaborator Matthew Graham - which used very few special effects. The consensus was that it really should have got a second series, and if you get a chance to watch it, do.)


Q. Are writers outside of the genre resistant to it?
AP: A prominent writer criticised Life on Mars in a newspaper, and I responded to that criticism. He thought that the point of writing was social realism, or social upheaval, making changes. But we've had fifty years of that.
AH: There are writers, and commissioning execs that are resisting, but it's always been that way. If you look at Nigel Kneale, he always occupied an odd place - it's always been an uneasy thing. Perhaps it always will be.
PP: There's a quality of imitation in British TV -
AH: Not just British TV.
PP: Just repeating things that have been successful. One detective drama is good, but by the time you've got wall-to-wall detective dramas, you just want to scream. The challenge is getting some variety in there.


Q. How are things different when writing novels?
PP: It's different from TV where fantasy /sci-fi is still something of a dirty word.


Q: All of the shows that you do are different - how would you define the genre?
AP: Anything that isn't social realism. Anything where you get a heightened response from the audience. I've never written a show before that had fan websites. Or where fans have been writing slash fiction. (Another pause here while slash fiction was explained to the uninitiated in the audience - see the wikipedia entry for a full definition.) After reading some Life on Mars slash fiction, you'll never look at a truncheon quite the same way again!
AH: I wouldn't dream of defining the genre, but the level of engagement, to praise or to criticise, is huge. It's a great thing to see.


Q: Phil, you've worked on Torchwood, and the Sarah Jane Adventures. Is there a different approach for pre- versus post-watershed SF drama?
PF: I think you instinctively know which sort of stories are suitable for which. It certainly didn't worry me going into it. With kids shows, you've got to be careful. You can frighten kids; it's exactly what they did in Fairy Tales, but you mustn't terrify them. That's the line you don't cross. And it's always possible to get it wrong - one of the episodes of Captain Scarlet I wrote was deemed too extreme, and was never made.



Q: Adrian, as well as your SF work in Primeval, you have done a lot of historical dramas, for example Charles II, The Pride and the Passion. Are there similarities in approach between the two?
AH: Someone clever once said: ”You can’t reproduce the past, you can only reinvent it.” A realistic portrayal of Charles the Second’s time would be truly alien, and wouldn’t be understandable by a modern audience. So, you’re dealing with a reinvented world. These genres aren’t as far apart as they’re perceived to be, just different ways of telling a story.

The clips & the reading:

Ashley Pharaoh showed a clip from Life on Mars, Series 1, Episode 4: Sam Tyler has a girl in his care: she spikes his drink, seduces him, and leaves him chained to his bed with a pair of Police handcuffs. Gene Hunt finds him the next morning, much to the hilarity of the rest of station.


AP: Everything in that clip stems from the original premise (a 21st century cop trapped in 1973) and I loved writing it. Not to be too pretentious or anything, but it’s closer to poetry when you get it right. But it took seven years of pitching to get it to screen, and that was a very painful process. I explained to one exec that it may all be in the central character’s head, or he may really be back in time. He said: “But that’s ambiguous”. “Well….yeah!”. People didn’t get it. In fact, we were told many times “Don’t do it – careers will end if you do this.” But John Yorke developed it with us, first at Channel 4, where it almost got green-lit, and then at the BBC. If you wait long enough, things will change – Doctor Who came along, and Lost, and that paved the way. I think we only got through the dark times because there were three of us - just when one person’s enthusiasm was flagging, the other two would remind him what was exciting about the project.

Q. What about the planned American remake of Life on Mars, by David E Kelly?
AP: They need a show to provide 60 episodes in America. You can’t keep a mystery of whether someone’s in a coma going for that length of time, so they’ve dropped the metaphysical aspect, and ramped up the comedy in its place. I don’t know if it’ll work. It shows that there is a strength to having short runs of shows, as we do here, as it allows you to tell more intense stories.

Phil Ford showed a clip from The Sarah Jane Adventures: The Eye of the Gorgon. Maria’s Dad has been turned to stone, and his estranged wife – thinking this is a statue of her ex – tells him what she really feels for him.

PF: This is what I meant by grounding SF in reality, here the reality of Maria and her family. In fact this was the first scene to be written – I knew in a gorgon story that someone was going to get turned to stone, and that someone would mistake them for a statue. The rest of the story flowed from there. It gave us a nice opportunity to find out how a character ticks – a nice emotional scene in an action-packed story.

Phillip Palmer read from Debatable Space. A very funny excerpt where the hero Lena, a 900 year old woman who was born in our time, has been kidnapped, and is being held by flame-beasts – highly intelligent creatures composed entirely of flame. She ponders her predicament, and some of the changes she’s seen in her long lifetime.

PP: That’s from the other end of the scale – the furthest extreme, space opera.


Audience Questions:

Q. How much do you think about budget?
PF: I don’t think about it all for the first draft. I let other people tell me afterwards if things can’t be achieved.
AH: It’s best not to self-censor. And the costs of CGI, for example, change all the time – you don’t know what you can or can’t afford. A herd of rampaging velociraptors might be achievable where two men talking in a car might be expensive!

Q. How difficult is it to pitch hard SF?
AH: It is harder. A show like Heroes plays on ABC and gets loads of viewers. Battlestar Galactica plays on the sci-fi channel and gets much less.
PP: On TV, SF has to come packaged with another genre.
PF: Yeah. IF you remember, the first season of Doctor Who was almost as much soap as sci-fi. Over the years, the sci-fi elements have built up – it’s the Trojan Horse approach.

Q. How easy is it to find an agent as a screenwriter specialising in fantasy?
AH: Don’t use the word fantasy if you’re worried.
EB: People want to see good writing, irrespective of genre.

Q. American SF was huge for years – what are the differences.
AH: Budget.
EB: There aren’t so many differences. The US loves Brit sci-fi – Heroes, all Joss Whedon’s work, Alan Moore.
AP: George Lucas is looking for British writers to work on the Star Wars TV series

And just to round off the evening with an exclusive, Ashley proceeded to tell us of two particular writers who have been invited to the Skywalker ranch for discussions about this. I’ve omitted their names as I don’t think it’s public knowledge yet!


Value for Money?: Guild events are always good value for money. Join the Guild! As usual, the event was followed by networking with wine and nibbles provided. All the panellists stuck around to talk. But the best part of this was that - having been to enough recent talks about pushing forward one's career - this was simply about celebrating good writing and good writers.

Slight Return

Apologies for the break in transmission; unfortunately, this is not because I’ve been on holiday like some other folks out there in Blogland (chance would be a fine thing!) but because I’ve been tremendously busy. Which is nice. Things what I have been doing:

Having meetings. I have been lucky enough to have three meetings in the last week. Two were for short film projects that now seem to be a definite go. The third meeting was for a feature, and I’m keeping everything crossed. I’m too superstitious to add anything more at the moment.

Preparing for the Screenwriter’s Festival. I’m going for the second half. I’ve entered a script into the market, and I’ve submitted a pitch (if it makes the final ten, I can go for the first two days as well – if the Day Job lets me have the time off).

Getting the best rejection I’ve ever had. The BBC Writers’ Room got back to me about my radio play. It got two reads, and I was given some very positive feedback. They don’t want to develop that idea, but they want to follow my progress and have solicited my next script, as and when I can send it in. As far as I can tell, this is as far as I can go through the system without being put in touch with a producer. So, I’m happy, and raring to go on my next spec radio play.

Watching last Saturday’s Doctor Who every (thirty-something, male) writer seems to be blogging about it, and with good reason. It was a very good show in a long recent run of quality episodes. And it had the return of a character from the series past that made my inner-fanboy do cartwheels. If none of this means anything to you, then you’re probably a grown-up. How does that feel?

Preparing for the Script Factory Storylining course this week. It’s tomorrow and Thursday, and Sir Jason of Arnopp will also be there. It involves breaking down the story beats for the first 8 episodes of “Harkness Hall”, a fictional soap opera developed by the tutor Yvonne Grace. I have received the series outline document, and am currently getting to know the central characters, and working out ways to melt them.

Things what I haven’t been doing:
Writing the – hilariously delayed – third part of my Digital Shorts diaries. But it will come. I predict another week of quiet, and then I’ll be blogging every day again. TTFN.

Paul Ashton Q & A

Over the next couple of days I’m going to complete the write-ups of all the recent screenwriting events I’ve been to, including the Writers’ Guild ‘Meet the Agents’ event, where I got to meet many lovely bloggers. Yay! But first, I thought I’d post on this as it’s probably the most useful to my reader(s) - Paul Ashton, development manager of the BBC Writers’ Room, had a brief slot for questions and answers at the Screen South Information day last month. Here’s a summary:

Paul first talked briefly about BBC Films, as it was a film agency gig. The bottom line is that BBC Films do not accept unsolicited scripts. If you don’t have an agent, or if you haven’t a producer or production company (with a track record) attached, then send your script to the Writers’ Room in the first instance. If you do have these attachments, still don’t send the script to BBC Films, but contact them to arrange a meeting. [NB: Since Paul made this statement, there has been a shake up in BBC Films instigated, so the situation may change.]

Moving on, Paul urged new writers not to overlook radio as a medium for new writers. In his opinion it is closer to film than, say, TV. Radio has lots of slots for one-off dramas, and so writers don’t need to fit in with an existing format, and can realise an original vision. Strands like the Friday, and Saturday Plays, and the Wire on Radio 3 are home to some more challenging and extreme pieces.

For radio there are two other routes aside from sending material to the Writers' Room: an in-house producer, or an independent producer or production company. When I asked Paul later about sending material through these routes, he repeated the standard BBC policy of not sending material to in-house producers, as they will only redirect it to the Writers’ room. But many other sources have told me that an introductory letter to a BBC producer doesn’t hurt at all, and having a producer champion your work will obviously mean it stands a greater chance of a commission that sending a script in cold. As for independent producers, Paul said it was fine to try that route. But he added that independent radio producers only have a certain amount of slots that they can bid to fill, so you may find that they are less receptive to new writers.

Paul was asked an audience question about what percentage of submissions are successful. About 20% of all submissions to the Writers’ Room are given a full read, and the remainder are rejected based on the first ten pages (they call this ‘sifting’). Of those, it is hard to say how many go on to be made, as it differs depending on what is being applied for. Radio wins out again here, though: 25% of Radio 4's afternoon plays must come from a first or second-time writer.

Another audience member asked what material the Writers’ Room will consider, particularly in regard to short scripts? They will read them, but only as an example of the writer’s work; and they would need to see more material than just one short script: a minimum of 30 pages/minutes as a guide. There are no shorts being shown on the BBC currently, but this could change depending of the tastes of the commissioning heads.

Are spec scripts for existing TV shows accepted? No. Paul wants to see something original from a new writer. But if you want to write for Doctors, say, send in an original piece that’s roughly similar in tone – don’t send in a wacky sci-fi plot, for instance. The BBC Writers’ Academy will mean that it is a little more difficult for untested writers, who aren't in the academy, to get scripts on continuing drama shows, but the Writers’ room will always support writers that they think are producing good enough material.

Do one-off dramas by new writers get shown on TV? No, this doesn’t happen. But there are ways and means that a new writer’s vision can get to the screen. Recently, two different writers’ scripts that started off as original pieces were adapted for the last Silent Witness series. Other new writers have got to write for shows such as Inspector Lynley or Daziel and Pascoe. The only BBC show that Paul feels is invitation only for writers is – you guessed it – Doctor Who.

Finally, Paul was asked if he could define good writing, and what he is looking for in a script. Here’s his thoughts:

• Knowing the medium (Tv, film, radio) and knowing the genre
• A good hook in the first 10 minutes
• Bold and vivid characters that you want to spend time with
• A lot of story packed into every minute, so that your script isn’t slow
• Original thoughts: don’t just serve up what you think the market wants
• Good dialogue
• A story that starts in the right place
• Focussed storytelling

Paul was full of useful information, and stayed long after the lunch break had started answering personal questions from eager writers. If you have the chance, I would recommend attending an event where he speaks.

Stop Gap Blog Post

On Friday, I return to the day job after a long break working on my writing. I'm madly busy trying to finish a few things, and the blog is not getting as much of my attention as I'd like. So, only time for a few bullet points:

1. About an aeon ago, I went to a Screen South Information day, and a Raindance open evening. A couple of people expressed interest in seeing a write up of these. I have a pile of notes that I hope to turn into a post before too long. Ditto for the next installment of my Digital Shorts diary. Watch this space.
2. I didn't make the Script Factory 'Wireless and Boundless' scheme but I did at least get a polite (mass) rejection e-mail. 120 people applied for 20 places. Phew! Anyone else apply? Anyone get in?
3. Paul Cornell's episode of Doctor Who on Saturday was possibly the best so far. And what a cliffhanger!
4. The BBC Writer's Room still has my radio play, and it's nearly been four months. Is this a good sign or does it take them that long just to reject scripts? I'm hoping for some feedback at least (fingers crossed).
5. My second spec radio play has been put aside half-finished while I've been revisiting a short. I'm rather pleased with it, so it's off to the British Short Screenplay Competition. Hooray!

Okay, that's all for now. Back to work.

Yes, I did use a metaphor concerning my tackle on a table.

I was given this idea by Paul Campbell’s instructive Scriptuality blog. He did this as a set of New Year’s resolutions, but since starting my blog, and watching uncrushed diaries blossom, it has felt like the beginning of something. So, I’m going to list my aims for the following year. Here goes:

1. Get into the imdb. I know it’s a bit sad, but I won’t believe I actually exist until my name is in there. I suppose this will happen somehow when my short film ‘Lent’ gets distributed more widely. But do I have to e-mail them myself? Or is someone else supposed to do it? I’ll be Stuart Perry [II] if I get in, as that guy from The Poseidon Adventure beat me to my name by a few decades.

2. Get another of my short film scripts produced. I’m working on various different possibilities, and it's looking good. I'll keep my fingers crossed and say no more, to avoid jinxing it!

3. Get an agent. I’m going to the WGGB’s ‘Meet the Agents’ event, and writing to a few. I’m not holding my breath on getting anywhere before the ’25 words or fewer’ UKFC scheme closes, though. If any interested agents are reading this – it could happen – please e-mail me (details are in my profile).

4. Get an afternoon play commissioned for Radio 4.One script is with the BBC Writers’ room, and I’m working on another to try to interest a producer. Perhaps I should have started with the producer route; has anyone had any positive responses going directly to the Writers’ Room? I imagine it’s a teetering slush pile. If any interested radio producers are reading this – it could happen – please e-mail me (details are, as I say, in my profile).

5. Apply to the BBC Writer’s Academy.That’s what I should be doing right now: writing this blog is my displacement activity. Hence the name.

6. Write an episode of Doctor Who. That’s an ambition I’ve had since I was ten. I should have tried submitting something then, it would have been easier. Actually, a friend did get my CV screenplay to Russell T Davies, but I’d imagine he’s been too busy to read it. I’m hoping by the time he is able to I will have successfully completed 1 to 5, and so will have a track record good enough to stand a chance of getting a commission. Although, to be honest, it might be better, if we’re talking about aims for the next year, to change that to

6. Write an episode of Doctors. And I’m not just being sensible: I love Doctors, and would give my right arm to write for it. I can’t believe Greg’s gone!

There you go: I’ve put my metaphorical tackle on the table for fate to whack it with a mallet, if I fail to achieve any of these. Better get back to that Academy application…