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...

Music is my music is my music is my life

I have been tagged by Piers to list seven songs that I'm into right now. Easy peasy: iTunes is my friend - I shall pluck a few of my top 25 recently played list. That way, I can't even cheat to make you think I've got better taste than I really have.

To link this with screenwriting in some way, as that is the main focus of this blog, a few words about music and screenwriting. On this subject, here's usually two main FAQ / FAQs (does the initialism stand for Frequently Asked Questions or Question singular? Answers on a postcard). The first is: should one listen to background music when one is writing? I say: Yes and No. I do like to have tunes on sometimes, particularly when I'm in full flow and typing away; but the moment I need to go into problem-solving mode, which is often, the iPod gets silenced.

Second, should one specify a particular song in a script if one wants its use as incidental music? Personally, I never do this, my reason being that it might put off the reader if they're not familiar with the song. And anyway, the director or producer will probably overrule my choice. But I know of many a successful and professional writer that does do this in scripts, so don't pay any attention to me.

OK, to the 7. Generally I like warm electronic sounds, jangling guitars, big beats, and combinations thereof. Seven songs in heavy rotation on the iPod of late are as follows:

1. 'The Greatest Story Never Told' / Murray Gold and the BBC Wales Orchestra. This is Doctor Who incidental music, a cue from Steven Moffat's Library-based episodes. I was incessantly listening to the album, and this track particularly, when writing the recent Doctor Who spec script, to get me into the spirit of the thing.
   


2. 'More than a Dream' / Pet Shop Boys. My favourite track on their latest album. And I'm very excited to be seeing them at the O2 Arena in June (I don't get out enough!). Anyone else going?


3. 'Toe Jam'/ The BPA (feat. Dizzee Rascal & David Byrne). If you haven't heard of it, the Brighton Port Authority is the latest project from Norman 'Fatboy Slim' Cook. This comes with sleeve note pretence that these are recently recovered recordings of an old, forgotten band. But forget the fakery, it's essentially another Fatboy album, but more song-based and with a few celebrity vocal talents thrown into the mix. And it's better than anything he's put out since around about 'Praise You'. This song is bliss encapsulated.


4. 'Neon Tiger' / The Killers. I love The Killers, they can do no wrong.


5. 'Not Fair' / Lily Allen. The music and production on Ms. Allen's latest album 'It's Not Me, It's You', courtesy of the Bird and the Bee fellah, is impeccible. But she sets her stall as a lyricist, and judged as a lyricist she is infuriatingly variable. On songs, like 'Not Fair' where she's speaking for herself (or more probably a characterisation close to herself) it works. But when she strays from that and starts speaking about society, it all just makes my toes curl. Worst offender on the album is the song that includes the refrain "Society says that her life is already over" about a character who's 29. 29! FF, and if I might be so bold, S! Society doesn't say women's lives are over by 29, Lily: idiots in society say this, Don't be one of them.


6. 'Mario's Cafe' / Saint Etienne. From their second album 'So Tough' and also on the 2-disc 'best of' currently living on my Shuffle. I parted company with them after 'So Tough', so mostly the compilation is new stuff to me , and very good too. But a few tracks, including this one, are a pure hit of Nineties nostalgia from back when I had a major crush on Sarah Cracknell. Actually, I still have a major crush on Sarah Cracknell.
   


7. 'I Box Up All The Butterflies' / Boy Least Likely To. I don't ever get time to listen to the radio anymore, so I catch up with new music via The Word magazine, like quite a few discerning Dads out there I suppose. There is a CD sampler of new music given away with the mag every month, and this my most listened to track from the latest one.

That's me done. If anyone has any recommendations, I'd welcome them. I'd create a spotify list of the above songs, but I haven't got around to trying spotify yet, and by the time I do, it probably won't be fashionable any more. Ah well.

The Eighty:Twenty Rule

I was reminded of this rule when talking down the pub with some writers the other day, and I thought it would make a nice blog post. It's popular in many disciplines; I first heard it at the day job, but it is just as applicable to screenwriting. It is this: in any endeavour - if we assume that infinite time or infinite resources are not at your disposal - 20 percent of the stuff you want to do will never get done. Simple as that.

That 20 percent might not be possible at all, or it will be prohibitively difficult, or too costly in either time or cash to achieve; or, most likely, it might become clear as you proceed that it was never worth doing in the first place. Wisdom is the ability to identify which 20 it is before you start, and then deliver the remaining 80 without getting distracted by what might have been.

I have not yet achieved wisdom, obviously, but I keep trying. I'd never thought about the rule with regard to writing, but then I read Andrew Harrison's interview with publicist Mark Borkowski in this month's issue of Word magazine, and Mark expressed the rule in a slightly different way. (He also sets the cleaving point at 75:25, so I'm obviously more optimistic than him; but, he is in publicity...)

If I might have a little fair use quotation for truth, Mark says this: “You can never make a hundred percent of people interested in an idea. The most you can aim for is 75 per cent, and you have to keep telling your client not to bother about that other 25 per cent, because actually they don't matter. Just don't let anyone leak from the 75 into the 25. But your client will always start obsessing about the 25 per cent. Hubris takes over. 'We have to have them!' You waste your energy on people who will never love you. Not unlike life in general."

This really struck a chord with me when I read it, as I'm currently in the process of getting script notes back on a project. Whenever I do this, as I often do, I hold in my mind the 20% of people out there will never like my script, no matter how much I change it to try to please them. Obviously, if this is a commissioned piece of work and the producer is in the 20% then you've got problems; you're both making a different film. This has happened to me, and it ain't pretty.

With spec work that you're getting peer reviewed during development, you don't really know what unconscious prejudices a particular reader is going to have. So, the wisdom is the ability to identify if they're 80 or 20 based on their notes, right? Nah. I don't believe it can be done. No one's that wise. And the possibility for self delusion ('they just don't get it!') is always a risk. Maybe you could tell if you can see the whites of their eyes, but sometimes not even then. Half the time they don't even know that they will never like your script, so you're going to have trouble telling.

So, what's the solution? First, make the script as good as you can make it for yourself. There's nothing worse than getting notes, negative or positive, on a script you're realised - between sending it out and getting the feedback - that you don't even like. Don't be in your own 20 percent.

After that, get as many and as broad a range of sets of feedback as possible and cross-reference them. This means you can see the trends forming and work out where the 80:20 line is falling. For this reason, I would avoid having only other screenwriters appraise your work - a trap I've fallen into often. Every screenwriter has their own voice, and we prefer it! So, any script not written by us is automatically going to be at a disadvantage. Okay, I'm being a bit flippant here, and anyone - myself included - that has to give script notes will try their hardest to be objective and not try to rewrite your script in their own image. But writers like to write, so they may end up appraising a script that isn't what you want to make, but... something different.

Professional script readers should have more detachment, but they cost money and so must be used sparingly (unless you're rich, and if you're a screenwriter there's a lot less than 20 percent chance of that). Beyond that, it would be useful to find a genuine punter for the type of work you're writing. This is tricky unless you're going to drag someone off the street; friends and family can often pull punches so as not to offend. Luckily, I have friends and family not frightened of offending me, so I have a few trusted readers outside of the screenwriting world and all its arcane ways.

But most of all, your rewrites will take lots of work to get to the best possible script. And that's another version of the 80:20 rule: 20% percent of the work will take 80% of the effort. I think this one applies to screenwriting too. First drafts - getting 120 pages of white and black down that makes some sort of sense - they're the 20; the 80 is all that wonderful rewriting after that. And on that note, I better get back to working on my screenplay. Ta ta.

INT. STUART'S MESSY OFFICE - DAY.

The room is semi-decorated, like a half kept promise. STUART - 30s, devilishly handsome, slightly deluded - sits at his desk and taps away at a keyboard: the monitor screen shows Final Draft filling up with script.

STUART

Hmm. Scene headings are ugly.

He types some more, growing increasingly, but gorgeously, irritated.

STUART

Do I really really need 'em?

FADE OUT

Good question, fake courier-12-point me. Like most of the regular readers of this blog, I write a good deal of script. Now, I'm still an emerging writer (love that phrase - I can't control whether that conjures images in your head of emerging from a cocoon, or emerging from some bushes, and I like that danger). And as an emerging writer (it's bushes for you, isn't it?!) most of what I write is designed to be read first, made (hopefully) later. For a script intended primarily to be read as a story rather than as a blueprint, by people wondering 'should this be made' rather than necessarily 'how the hell do we make this', a lot of the conventions of the screenplay format are at best meaningless, and are at worst in the way.

The 12-point courier thing, as a rule of thumb, makes a screenplay work out to be about a page per minute of action. But, as anyone who's ever operated an iPhone in a hurry can tell you: thumbs can be inaccurate things. Particularly with shorter scripts, I find it the page per minute thing can be way off. And of course, anyone can film a script as sloooowly as they like (particularly directors). But, even so, I would keep the 12-point courier and the spacing as they are. But scene headings? I would change them like a shot (pun intended).

How would I change them? I'd get rid of EXT and INT, and probably DAY and NIGHT too. Is this craziness? Possibly. I'm bound to be on to a loser trying to change things: the film screenplay format has been pretty much the same for fifty years or more. William Goldman writes scripts dispensing with the uglier slug line conventions. But he's William Goldman; and even he couldn't persuade anyone else to follow his lead.

So, we are stuck with INT and EXT, but what do they give us? They are ultimately a tool for line producers to budget scripts within a studio system. For anyone outside such a system, and even for a lot of Hollywood films, they are wildly out of date: an interior shot of a house is very likely to be shot on location, where an exterior scene might be filmed against a green screen in a studio. And for a story to be read, INT and EXT convey nothing that can't be covered in the location or scene description. If you're in a living room, you're inside. If you're in a field, you're outside. If there's any doubt, rewrite it until there's no doubt; that's got to make for a better script and a better writer.

What about DAY and NIGHT? Well, they're mainly queues for lighting, but outside of a shooting script they can be useful to show the passage of time. Again though, this can be used as a crutch. When I was a less experienced writer (a few weeks back!) I lengthened and lengthened my scene headings with extraneous detail: not only was it DAY in this scene, it was LATER, no sorry: MOMENTS LATER. THE SAME DAY. CONTINUOUS. I went hog wild, making sure people would get it. I wasn't necessarily wrong either, as plenty of pro film scripts use all of these. Someone somewhere must like them, but more and more I think they're unneeded, except for the first scene or if a major change has occurred. If the script has been written right, it should be obvious how much time has passed from the scene description and character behaviour.

If it isn't clear whether a scene's in or outdoors, or at night or in the day, you're better off not trying to address this in the scene heading, as I'd wager that most of the people reading your script will skip the scene headings anyway. We all do it, don't we? I certainly do, even with my own scripts. Because scene headings aren't very interesting. So, why not drop all these annoying things, and concentrate on what everyone's interested in: the story? As follows:

STUART'S OFFICE - DAY:

Stuart sits and types.

STUART'S HALLWAY:

Stuart's son walks to the office door.

STUART'S SON

Get off Twitter and do some work, Daddy.

Why not? Well, it's usual reason: The Fear. The fear that an overworked script reader will think "No EXTs and DAYs - amateur - reject!" and put your script in the green crayon pile. Now, this fear is probably unfounded; or, if not, then you could use the argument that, if they're noticing stuff like that, then your script's lost them anyway. But if there's even the slightest chance that it could make a difference, why rock the boat? So, I'll be leaving all the EXTs and INTs and DAYs and NIGHTs in my scripts, and crossing my fingers. But, every so often, I'm dropping out a DAY or an INT here and there, to see if anyone notices, trying to bring down the system from within.

What about you? Do you hate these things too? Or am I over-reacting? Are they useful in some way I haven't considered? Or have you dropped them from your scripts altogether? Has anyone noticed? I'd love to know.

Juvenilia

One of the best pieces of advice I’ve been given about screenwriting was when a writer on a panel, at some event or other many years ago, advised all the budding scribes in attendance to “go on an editing course”. It was such good advice that one day I’ll perhaps get round to doing it. For instead, you see, I thought “I won’t go on a course, I’ll actually edit something instead”. And I did.

I armed myself with a mini-DV home camcorder, and a copy of Adobe Premiere, and some like-minded friends, and over the course of five years or so, I proceeded to write, direct, edit, and (eep!) co-star in a series of shorts. Some were office-based things at my day job, which we’d then show at Christmas parties. Another was a ten-minuter that my wife and I made together, which was shown on a big screen at my wedding (I got married in a cinema – doesn’t everyone?!).

It was a great learning experience, and I recommend trying it. You learn all sorts of things about in and out points of scenes, structure, working to deadlines, seeing material enjoyed - or not – by an audience. Of course - as they were learning experiences - I would never dream of exhibiting them as examples of my work. That would be foolish.

This is where I wish, fleetingly, that I wrote novels: for film is a collaborative medium, and one of my collaborators – Andrew Hunt, also known as Uncle Hunty – has put some of them up on youtube in all their bad sound, wobbly cam, in-jokey glory. I’m not going to link to them from here, but a quick search should give you access if you’re interested / bored / masochistic. No apologies, and since they’re free – no refunds either.

Displaced Activities

If you write films for a living, or if you aspire to, then how many hours of films should you be watching a week?

It's a question that I'm always asking myself, as I am a terrible procrastinator (well, actually, I'm a very good procrastinator - see, I'm even putting off the end of this sentence), and ploughing through a stack of DVDs is a good way of avoiding proper work. But it is nonetheless vital to be aware of new films, analyse their structure, read their screenplays, keep up to date with trends and commercial and critical performance, and so on.

I'm almost reluctant to tell you this, as it is so uncool, and because once upon a time I was Mister Cinema (it was a little embarrassing, I had to change it by deed poll in the end). I would have seen and had an opinion on every release within days of it opening, or I'd have seen it months before at some festival or other. But, since I became a rookie parent, I've found myself going to the flicks less and less. I'm on a six to twelve month delay on all new releases - that's how long before they filter through from my lovefilm.com list, and I finally find a moment to watch them. And I'm more than ever aware of this around the Oscars ceremony: five best film contenders - know of them all, read the reviews, seen their box office reported on in Screen International. Seen 'em? Nah.

But if I have spare time, I feel I ought to be using it for writing, and if the opportunity of a baby-sitter comes up, my wife objects if I suggest "ten films" as what we should do with our evening.

Should I worry? What's the right balance to have? I don't know, but I'm trying my best to find it. That's another reason why it was so nice to have attended the 'Look at Me' premiere this week. It was great to see a film in a darkened theatre, and it was not just any old film but the first produced work of fellow screenwriter/blogger, and my good mate, Jason Arnopp. Read all about it here (I'm the fellow with a beard and specs in the second picture down - fame at last!).

And if you come back here in six months time, I'll give you my views on which is better 'There will Be Blood' or 'No Country for Old Men'.

Scratch

Writing is an odd profession/obsession, isn't it? I met with a director, the fabulous Lou Birks, last week to discuss a project we are developing together. It's a ten minute long dramatic short, which I've done three drafts of, over the last few months. And it's not quite working.


Lou and I discussed the issues we both had with how the short was shaping up. Luckily, we both had come to exactly the same conclusions. We decide not only shall I do a page one rewrite, but also that length might be counting against us. The material fits nicer within 30 minutes, rather than 10. More running time gives it a chance to breathe, the backstory can be delivered at a better pace that doesn't feel like overload, and the tension can really be ratcheted up.


And I leave the meeting really energised and happy. Despite the fact that I've just agreed to three times as much work, and I'm starting from scratch. There really is no business like this, is there?!

Opportunities

Still very busy, still don't want to post about it until contract negotiations are officially complete, but it's going very well. Meanwhile, here are some events and schemes that you may or may not have heard about:

Firstly, 4Talent are running a scheme where new writers can apply with a pilot for a 6 x 23-minute episode series. Thanks to both Lianne and William Gallagher for independently pointing me in the direction of this one. Deadline is 23rd November.

The UK Film Council has changed its rules allowing first-time writers to apply directly to them for development funding. A good write-up on the Guild website, or on Piers' blog here.

Finally, The Writer's Guild are having another 'Meet the Agents' event. The last one was over-subscribed, so I'd get in early. I'm going if I can get a ticket, so I might just see you there. Usual Guild event rates: £5 for members, £7.50 otherwise. It's on Monday 29th October.

On the IPod today: The Killers' "Sam's Town", which I thought was a bit 'meh' when it came out - crikey - it must be about a year ago now; but revisiting it, converting it into mp3 format, and carting it around with me, I've come to appreciate it a lot more.

Digital Shorts – Part 4: Shooting

I can hardly believe that the last instalment of my Digital Shorts diaries was posted in July. Where has all of the year gone?! Anyway, as the Digital Shorts scheme is now taking submissions for 2007/08 in all regions, it’s probably about time for this fourth instalment. I left off in January of this year: we had a locked script of my short ‘Lent’, and a provisional shoot date in February.

January 2007: This is the period where I, as the writer, had less to do than the other members of the team; but I was keeping my hand in too. The director, James, was auditioning to cast the two characters: a seven-year-old girl, Jessica, and her Mum, Diane. Meanwhile, the producer, Ricci-Lee, was putting together a fantastic crew, pretty much all of whom worked for expenses. I don’t like the idea of people not getting paid for their skilled work; but, this was a micro-budget short, and I wasn’t paid either, so it seemed fair! And we got a lot on screen for our no-money. For example, we got free use of crane and an experienced grip on two major set-ups in exchange for employing a trainee, the grip’s son, for the rest of the shoot. He was excellent too, and has a shining career ahead of him, I’m sure. Putting together deals like this is an art, and something I’d be frustrated doing (I’d rather be writing), so I am eternally grateful to Ricci-Lee.

There were some minor script changes early in the month (did I say locked script in my opening paragraph? Ha! No such thing, until you’ve finished editing, and even after that…). The final draft was turned into a shooting script (numbered scenes, and tracking of any revisions that happen from then on), storyboards (they were nothing like the ones I’d prepared when getting the funding – no stickmen!), and a shooting schedule (the scenes, by number, broken down in the order of shooting, usually by location, but also considering actor availability). This is a fascinating process to have happen to one’s script, shining a light on decisions the writer may have made at the flick of a pen, or click of a mouse.

For instance, as I said earlier, I blithely wrote a seven-year-old girl as a main character. So, immediately I was opening up a can of child labour regulation-shaped worms. Our shooting schedule needed to be drafted accordingly, to insure the young actress did not work beyond the legislated limits, and we needed to get a permit from the local council. A lot more work than if I’d rewritten her as an adult, or got rid of the character altogether (as things were, the age and the character were essential to the script). So, should I consider any of these practicalities at the writing stage? The quick answer is: of course not. Don‘t deprive yourself of any imaginative riches, just for the sake of logistics. But as you draft and redraft, and as you are more aware of what budget you have to play with, you will come across limitations, and limitations can make you even more creative, in ways you might not have imagined.

I think what I’m saying here is: make films, if you can. It will help your writing. And the results never need be shown to anyone. I made about ten mini-DV no-budget masterpieces of various durations, with borrowed camcorders, before ‘Lent’ was green-lit. They were never intended for distribution, although some may have found their way on to YouTube (if you see one, please be forgiving, I was finding my way). They were a learning experience better than any screenwriting course.

Through this period we had to submit various deliverables (final script, storyboards, etc.) to Screen South and the UKFC in order to unlock successive portions of the budget. They don’t give you all of the money up front, probably in case you go crazy and spend it all on sweets or magic beans.

3rd February 2007: The shoot occurred over the course of one, long Saturday in February. We’d found our location – a suburban house and garden – near Pinewood Studios. I had no real job to do on location, everything had already been done. But I attended anyway to see what it was like, and whether there was anything I could learn. It was a great day, apart from the jaded cabbie (see here), and the horrible tedium for a writer of long swathes of filming (every writer always bangs on about filming being dull, and I never believed them, but it’s true). And the crew were fantastic. I hope to work with all of them again.

Another ‘be careful what you write’ moment to report: when I envisaged a drama that included a teetering stack of pancakes, I didn’t think too long about the poor soul who was going to have to fry up each and every one. Out of guilt, I assisted the runner who had this thankless job. I suggested she and I had an additional credit: ‘Pancake Wrangler #1 & #2’. It was vetoed, alas.

And one more lesson that I can pass on: if you’re location scouting for a suburban house to film in, try to get one with a toilet on both floors. If you’re downstairs trying to be quiet, but bursting for the loo, it’s no good if the only toilet is occupied by a camera team filming actors on the upstairs landing. In the end, dear reader, I popped to the nearby pub.

February - March 2007: Post production ensues. I periodically log on with a password to view each new cut online (ain’t technology wonderful) or receive rough cuts on DVD, then e-mail back my suggestions. A composer puts a very delicate piano score on, and some whizzy guys put together the sound design: never have the sounds of a kitchen been so weird and threatening. At the end of March, the final deliverable - our completed film - is sent to Screen South and the UKFC.

We were done. We were only just beginning...

Links to previous episodes:

Part 1: Submission

Part 2: Selection

Part 3: Script Development

Protect Your Writing Time

There have been a few posts recently on other screenwriting blogs about working methods, and about how much material the conscientious writer should be aiming to produce in a given time. They’ve got me calculating how many hours I spend per week writing.

Currently - although I do arrange periodical holidays and sabbaticals where I just write - I am commuting to That Fancy London™ every weekday to earn a living. I’m disciplined and write for an hour on the train each way, with a day off to read the trades or a book. Let’s call it eight hours per week on average. At lunch, I do another hour – I know it’s absolute madness, and I should give my eyes a rest from staring at a monitor, but I need that lunch hour’s writing, I do. Sometimes, I have Day Job work keeping me busy through lunch, but that averages out only one day a week: another four hours for my running total.

My hours after work, and at weekends, are more tricky. My family has to come first, and they deserve my maximum attention. At the moment - and it seems to be working out - I do about an hour and a half every night in front of the computer – half an hour of that will be catching up on e-mail and blog stuff. So, that’s another five hours proper writing to add to the total. Weekends have to be flexible. I try to do some writing every day, but it can be impossible. Sometimes, of course, I do nothing but write from dawn till dusk, without pausing to eat or wash or make conversation. My wife loves those days, as you can imagine. I think it probably averages out to about 7 hours per weekend, throughout the year.

So, that’s 24 hours per week in total. One day. It doesn’t seem enough, but it’s all I have. “Protect your writing time”, as William Goldman decreed: a less famous, but probably more important sound-bite than “Nobody Knows Anything”. As for how much work you can produce in that time, I think it’s pointless to even think about. I realise from meeting other writers that we never feel that we’ve done enough. And long may that itch to produce continue: after all, when we think we’ve done enough we might as well just stop.

Digital Shorts - Part 3: Script Development

Another instalment of my writer's diary from the UKFC / Screen South Digital Shorts Scheme 2006/07. Parts one and two which I posted ages ago now, took the tale up to the selection of my script “Out of the Frying Pan” as one of the digital shorts 2007, and the attachment of a producer, Ricci-Lee Berry.

Late September 2006: arrangements are made for producers and directors to attend a training session at the NFTS. Ricci-Lee attends this. In the meantime, we both were scouring websites, and our contacts lists, for a suitable director. This was a long task, and obviously an important one. The worst thing that can happen is to end up working with a director that doesn’t have the same vision of the material as you do. But how do you tell who’s attracted to the material, rather than just attracted to the juicy UKFC funding already in place?

Well, you have to get to know them, and see if you like the cut of their jib. This can take a lot of time, and be very frustrating; and, it is where, with hindsight, I can see the advantages in applying to the scheme with a director already attached. Once you’re given a go-ahead and a budget, you want to spend every moment you can in development and preparation. If the director (and producer, if you can get one) has been with you from day one, then you can start the fun stuff straight away.

October 2006 – December 2006: Over the next month, I watch a lot of showreels, and towards the end of October, Ricci-Lee, Screen South Exec Miranda Robinson and I perform the first of our interviews. We whittled down the number of candidates over the next couple of weeks, and then we went quite a long way with one director, but things didn’t work out. It was mid-December when we finally appointed the third big member of the team: James Twyford - who had previously worked on the Digital Shorts scheme in 2005, with the comedy short ‘Little Things’ - was our director.

November 2006 – January 2007: While we hunted for a director, script development took place. I had notes for the next draft based on the discussions during the selection process, and Ricci-Lee had some good ideas. The marvellous Pippa Brill, script executive for half of the 2006/07 Screen South Digital shorts output, including our film, worked with me to realise these. Input came in from our initial director, and then from James.

I think in total there were about ten drafts before we submitted our final script to the UKFC, which isn’t a great deal in the larger scheme of things, but unfortunately not all of these drafts were for the better. Drafts 3 to 5 were a digression, and we kept little or no material from them when we reverted back to draft 2 as the launching point for all future work. [By the by, I’d recommend this approach if you get too bogged down - never be scared to admit you’ve taken the wrong track, and revert back to an older draft. It will stop you going insane.]

How did it happen? Simply: I didn’t know the strengths of my own material. It sounds dumb, but it is a very easy trap to fall into. When people get together to discuss scripts – and we did make the effort to all be in the same room occasionally, although a lot more was done on the phone, or by email - notes fly around, and creativity bounces off every corner of the room, and before you know it, someone - with the best of intentions - has said “Why don’t we set this domestic drama in –ooh, I don’t know – a spaceship?” and you’re saying, “Dammit, you're right”.

(That particular example never occurred, but we had a few mad ideas that weren’t far off it).

Luckily, I had Pippa to get me back on track. At that stage, I wrote down every point that I thought was good or worthwhile about the story, and I kept that piece of paper with me for the rest of the process. It wasn’t about being precious: it was just to remind myself what worked; had anyone tried to persuade me to change any of those points, I would have listened to their views. But everything on that list made it to the screen, because ultimately we all agreed that it was the heart of the film.

It was also during these months that the title “Out of the Frying Pan” became “Recipe” (for about a week), then “Pancake Day”, and finally “Lent.” So, we made it to the beginning of 2007 with a title, a locked script, and a shooting date for early February. All we needed now was a crew.

To be continued...

Screenwriting and Scones

Event: Screen South Information Day

Date: Monday 14th May 2007

Venue: Friends Meeting House, Brighton. A church hall, basically, but a nice one with free refreshments including home-made scones. This is a first - I have never before been to a screenwriting or filmmaking event where anyone has provided home-made scones. God bless the Quakers.

The Set Up: Screen South periodically hold these events across the region. The morning session involved brief talks / Q&A sessions from various speakers (see below). Lunch - not provided, alas! - was at 12:30pm, and the afternoon was taken up with individuals’ one-to-ones with a Screen South representative. Upon registering, one could book this interview, the first step towards applying for funding. Registration started at 9:30am. I got there at 9:35am, and I almost missed out on a slot, they’d filled up so quickly. So, first piece of advice is to get there early.

The speakers

Screen South: Jo Nolan, Miranda Robinson, and Vanessa Cook each spoke about the agency, its aims, its production and development department, the funding awards available, and how to apply. I’m not going to repeat a lot of this information, as it’s available from their website. But a few points of interest:

1. Database: if you are working in film in the region, and you haven't already done it, get your details in the database on the Screen South website. If you’re looking for local crew, this is the place to look.
2. Digital Shorts: the scheme will be running again in September / October. There will a roadshow when the scheme is launched, which will visit Brighton and other places.
3. RIFE (Regional Investment Fund for England) awards: funding that’s available throughout the year. Small awards (up to £500) run to monthly deadlines; large awards (up to £5000 for an individual, £10000 for an organisation) run quarterly. Application forms and guidelines are available from the website, and the application process will involve an interview or interviews with different panels, depending on the amount sought.
4. Production funding: there is no production funding available through Screen South (except for specific strands like Digital Shorts). But the situation is being looked into, and this may change.
5. Training funding: Screen South would expect an applicant to have approached Skillset first before applying for training costs from the RIFE awards. Skillset can cover up to 80% of training costs (see below).
6. Distribution funding: Applications can be made for funding to take completed shorts to festivals.

The most interesting section for me was a discussion about the typical path for a writer to apply for feature film development:

Stage 1 - Apply for £40 from the Small Awards fund to get script coverage from a reader that Screen South would arrange. This will be a 2-3 page report, and will take approximately two weeks. If you have already got coverage of this kind, you can submit this to Screen South, and – if it is to the required standard - you may be able to skip this stage.

Stage 2 - the coverage will be the basis of a redraft of the screenplay, which would be expected in no less than six weeks. This draft can then be submitted for an in-depth Script factory report (£80, again applied for from the RIFE small awards). This will be a 5-6 page report, and will take approximately six weeks.

Stage 3 - Another draft, and then the writer can apply for funding for a script editor to work with them to develop the material. After that, the writer will need to get a producer attached to the project to apply for further development funding. Screen South can provide advice on getting a producer, where the film sits in the market, and tips for moving it into pre-production.

Lighthouse: Sarah Flint, CEO. Lighthouse is one of the key regional partners to Screen South. Twenty-one years old this year, they provide professional development support for filmmakers, screenwriters and artists. Some training is available to all, some selectively based on an application. Sarah talked about some very exciting schemes coming soon, so keep an eye on their website. Successful last year was the ‘Guiding lights’ mentoring scheme. They hope to be running this again in 2007.

Lighthouse also hire out equipment, and rooms for meetings, events or screenings. Monthly, they hold their own networking events (a write up of a recent one is here).

Skillset: Rachael Duke, Film Fund Manager. Skillset has a film fund, and a TV freelance fund available, bankrolled by lottery money. The list of accepted training courses is on their website, and is quite extensive.

For training up to £800 in value, Skillset can pay 80%. Applications can be made at any time in the year, but you must have written confirmation that you’ve been accepted onto the course when you apply, and they cannot fund courses retrospectively. It’s worth planning ahead if you’re going to apply, to ensure you have enough time for the application to be processed – on average it takes four weeks per request.

You need to have demonstrable professional experience in the field for which you’re getting training; they can advise you on eligibility if you’re unsure (contact by telephone or e-mail).

BBC Writers’ Room: Paul Ashton’s session was covered in detail here.

One-to-one: Mine was at 3:30pm, which gave me time for a long lunch at The Hop Poles where I planned out the details of what I wanted to discuss. The interview was with Miranda, who I already know from working with her on my Digital Short. She answered my many questions helpfully, and we talked about the feature project. I left feeling very positive about my next steps.

Value for Money? It was free, so a big, fat YES. In fact, if you have a project that qualifies, these people can give you money. And home made scones.

Definitely recommended.

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.

Digital Shorts - Part 2: Selection

The continuing tale of my journey as a writer on the UKFC / Screen South Digital Shorts Scheme. Part one took us up to the selection of one of my submitted projects for the initial shortlist in August 2006.

17th – 18th August 2006: two days of interviews held in Brighton, for representatives from each applying team. I’m there for the first of the two days. I’m told around 200 teams applied altogether, and 18 interviews happened on the 17th, including mine. So the long shortlist was somewhere around 36 teams.

The interviews were 15 minutes for the one-minuters, and 30 minutes for the longer ones; they were embedded in a day-long seminar about comedy from Sam Snape, which involved Q&A, screenings of some comedy shorts, and Sam’s enthusiastic stand-up style of interactive training. Later, there was a session with Sam on documentary shorts, and the next day - which I couldn’t make – saw an all-day drama seminar, which all were invited to attend. Some people who couldn’t do the whole day just turned up for their interview, but I liked to think of the seminar as a prize for getting that far, and I stayed for the day. I had lunch with a few of the other attendees down on the beach, as the weather was nice.

I then met with Miranda Robinson, Screen South’s head of development, and Pippa Brill, who would be working as script developer / editor with the winning teams. Also attending was Ricci-Lee Berry, production and development assistant. They gave me some good notes about what worked and what didn’t, and what could be done differently; we discussed various ideas. It was very much like a script development meeting, and not an interview. I decide I really want to work with these people.

30th August 2006: Final deadline to write a new draft of the screenplay based on the notes from my interview. Most other projects will have been given the same task, but some may have been asked to submit different or additional materials. These will now be considered before announcing the final shortlist for second interview. I don’t know exactly how long this final shortlist was; best guess: around 20 teams will be left.

4th September 2006: I get a call informing me that I’m through to the next stage. I’m quite happy to hear this news (understatement).

11th – 12th September 2006: The second set of interviews, held at the Film Council in London. As well as Miranda, Pippa and Ricci-Lee, there are a couple of other Film Council board members. I am nervous, but - again - everyone is very complimentary of my work. There are a few questions, back and forth, but it’s painless and over reasonably quickly – I think it lasted twenty minutes in all. It is here that the possibility of my directing the short is discussed: I turn the offer down. I’ve only ever wanted to be a writer, and I want someone with a little bit of experience to direct the film.

15th September 2006: I’m called on Friday afternoon by Miranda Robinson. I’ve got the gig. I’m ever so slightly chuffed (another understatement). Twelve live-action shorts will be made in all (7 long ones, and 5 short). Miranda tells me that Ricci-Lee Berry is interested in moving into a producer’s role, and asks me if I would like to work with her on ‘Out of the Frying Pan’. As I’ve already met Ricci-Lee, it won’t mean building a completely new working relationship, so it’s ideal. She’s very enthusiastic, and contacts me within a couple of hours of Miranda’s call. We talk about the project, and what to do next: we need a director.

To be Continued...

Interrogation, without the Bright Lights

'The Dark Art of Script Development'
[NB: Jason Arnopp has also summarised this event, and the page is linked to from his blog here.]

The Date:
Wednesday 9th May 2007

The Panellists:
Dan MacRae (DM) was formerly Deputy Head of the Development Fund at the UK Film Council and an Executive at Working Title; his credits include RED ROAD and the forthcoming ATONEMENT.

Sarah Golding (SG) is currently Head of Development for Potboiler Productions and was previously Head of Development for Skreba Films, Development Manager at Zenith Productions and Script Consultant for Yorkshire Television and Fair Game Films. Her credits include THE CONSTANT GARDENER, DEEP WATER, BROTHERS OF THE HEAD and the forthcoming THE BEST TIME OF OUR LIVES".

The venue:
Lighthouse in Brighton: very nice squishy leather sofas, and minimalist studio-style décor. The administration was efficient (though perhaps some handouts with the speakers’ biogs on wouldn’t have gone amiss), and the bottle bar was inexpensive by Brighton standards.

Value for money?
The Q&A went from 7:30 to 9:00pm, with informal networking before and after. Dan and Sarah made time for everyone who wanted to speak to them, and were very pleasant to chat to. It cost only a fiver, and was well worth it. Lighthouse has an event like this on every month, though sometimes with focus more on direction than writing, and I will definitely be looking to come along again.

Why was I there?
The process of script development is very important, and something that any serious scriptwriter should be aware of, but what I – and probably many others – were interested in was how to get our scripts and ideas into development in the first place. This was covered to some degree. Others in the audience wanted to talk about the difficulties inherent in the UK Film Industry, which did tend to get a bit repetitive (there’s no money, too many films are being made, not enough are being seen) but again, the panel were happy to share their thoughts.


The Questions and Answers:

What is this intangible thing called Script Development?
DM: Working with writers to generate an idea, or adaptation of an existing piece, and turn it into a script that will attract talent, funding, and ultimately an audience. The script editor works to translate the feelings of all the interested parties, like financiers or actors, to define the right vision, and achieve consistency for the project. To make some parts stronger, say, or more comedic, as required, without unbalancing the script as a whole.

SG: A different approach if you are a freelancer, rather than working for a big company. Script Development can be more like writer development, helping the writer to hone their skills, project by project and sell themselves as a writer. Helping production companies to accumulate a slate of projects.

What’s the difference between script development and script editing?
SG: To edit something it must exist
DM: Development takes something up to script; after that, editing takes over.

How can an editor ensure that the aims of the piece remain the writer’s rather than the editor’s?
SG: Ask them lots of questions before starting, make sure you’re on the same page; it's an interrogation, but without the bright lights.
DM: Sometimes it isn’t the writer’s aims that need protecting. In ‘Mr Bean’s Holiday’ Rowan Atkinson and Working Title had more input than the writer or director, but the people employed to do those jobs are picked accordingly and aware of this.

What’s the process of development?
DM: It varies every time. You have to identify ambition, identify audience, identify the budget required, and identify how that budget relates to the possibilities of the material. Gain the trust of the team, find a shared vocabulary, identify strengths and weakness and where to go next with a new draft: are you developing plot, or tone, or the world of the story? You’re finding out what the piece is about ultimately, and that is very satisfying.

Should writers or editors try to second-guess the wants of an audience?
SG: Your own taste should be your guide. If I respond well to this, there’s a good chance other people will too. But ‘analysis’ is a better term than ‘second-guessing’. You have to provide security for the money invested. What satisfaction does the audience expect of the genre?
DM: Audiences are well served by TV. What is your film doing that’s different? Bleak and downbeat stories don’t sell so well, so you must be aware of this when thinking about your budget.

Are table readings of scripts important?
DM: Yes, both the UK Film Council and Working title have arranged them. They are usually helpful for comedies, but not so much for dramas where there might be lots of stage directions to read out.

Should the editor research more than the writer?
DM: Yes, it’s very valuable to have explored the subject (but this if you’re working for a company and therefore getting paid for it).
SG: As a freelancer, I wouldn’t expect to do as much research as the writer. There’s not enough money to be a researcher as well as an editor.

What potential is there for new ideas in a world of franchises, adaptations, etc.?
DM: Financiers like to have something more tangible than just a pitch. And an existing property has a built-in audience, which provides them more comfort. So make it a very good idea.
SG: Or write a spec script.
DM: The great thing about being a writer is all you need to do is write.

How would you work with a writer-director that used improvisation? How would you get budget to do this without a script?
SG: Detailed treatments are required. Funding would be based on the reputation of the filmmakers involved. Get a track record in radio or stage plays. Trust equals money.
DM: Establish a structure. Again it comes down to budget.
SG: Or just go out and do it – but you’ll need to find the right actors.

How do you identify a good script?
DM: Something enjoyable, compelling, with characters you can care about. There’s no elitism or mystery, just a response to the material. Write a good script, not a perfect script – something to start a conversation.
SG: It’s not just about good writing, but finding work with a specific voice. This needs to be taken to the right sort of producer.

How important is a good writing style?
SG: Quite important- clumsy technique can put you off a script you’re reading.

How important is 3-act structure these days?
DM: It’s at the heart of genre cinema, but you don’t hear as much about it in the UK as you do in the US.

How would you give advice to a unique voice / auteur?
SG: They need funding from an arts body. Financiers don’t usually want this kind of work.
DM: Auteurs need money from across Europe. Script editing doesn’t exist in France, for example. But the UK is not an auteur country, it’s a genre country.
What genres?
DM: Comedy, Action, Rom-Com, Teen Movies, Family Movies…
SG: Or something with a bravura performance from a star.

But unknown writers don’t stand a chance, do they?
SG: Everyone’s an unknown at first.
DM: There’s no desire to shut out new writers.

And what about getting paid?
DM: You priority must be to work with producers that have money.
SG: Producers with a track record shouldn’t be asking you to work for no money. But if both you and the producer are at the start of your careers, you can take a risk on a project together.

What can you do when the writer/editor working relationship goes bad?
DM: Who’s running the show? If it’s the producer, they need to step in and resuce the project.
SG: Find a new script editor. Go back to a draft you were happy with, and work from there.

Have you ever wanted to be a writer yourself?
SG: Absolutely not! That's why I do the job I do - I don't want to take over from the writer, I'd rather work with them.


Final thoughts
Through the evening, there was also some sharing of script development horror stories from members of the audience, and from the panel. In all cases, it seems it is best to be clear about your intentions from the off, and not be afraid to revert to a previous draft.

My experience (working on 'Lent' ) was very positive, but when I first went in, I hadn't fully formed my aims for the piece and written them down. I would advise anyone in the same position to do this, even if you change your mind about the content later. Luckily, I had a development exec that helped me to understand the strengths of what I'd written - and pull those intentions out of my woolly subconscious and onto the page.

Script Development event, Lighthouse, Brighton

Attended this useful event last night. A full report will be up as soon as I can find a few moments to decipher my notes. I met the very talented Jason Arnopp there, who will also be writing it up, and I'm sure that between us we'll get everything of interest down.

That was the first time I've met someone who I'm already familiar with from their blog. Praise be to blogging, it makes networking so much easier when you know there's at least one friendly face in the crowd at an event. I hope to meet many more of you guys when I go to things. Talking of which:

A head's up. Raindance - who provide training, and run an independent film festival - are having an open day next Tuesday (15th) in London. Details on their website here. It looks very likely I shall be going, I'm just juggling meetings at the moment.

Digital Shorts - Part 1: Submission

A few kind folks have expressed an interest in my experiences on the UK Film Council / Screen South Digital Shorts scheme over the past year. I’ll have to post this in a few chunks, when I find time. But here’s the first bit:

June 2006: I receive Screen South’s mailshot announcing the Digital Shorts scheme is open for applications, deadline in mid-July. There are three strands: ‘Long Shots’ for five to nine minute shorts, ‘Close Ups’ for one minute live-action, and ‘One Minute Wonders’ for one minute animation.

I have seen the scheme advertised in previous years, but not felt I had the right quality of script to put forward. And I had it in my head – perhaps correctly – that the scheme was not intended for writers who didn’t have anyone else attached to their projects. But, I have a strong nine-minute comedy screenplay perfect for the ‘Long Shots’ strand, and – scouring the guidelines - I find nothing in there about needing to have anyone else attached. In fact, one of the reasons for the scheme is to hook up talent, so I hoped my script would be enough for Screen South to put me together with director and producer.

July 2006: I polish the script, and put together the large amount of material required (this is certainly something that would be easier when applying as part of a team). Five copies each of the screenplay, my CV, a synopsis, a director’s statement of intent (I wrote this as guidelines for any director that became attached). Even though I didn’t have to submit any visual material, it was listed as an optional requirement: so, I drew up some storyboards, again as guidelines for future crew. I found out at my interview that the panel was impressed with the storyboards (though perhaps not with my stick-man art), so I’m glad I made the effort.

Mid-July: days before the deadline, I get the crazy idea that I should apply for the ‘Close-up’ one-minute strand as well. I’d had an idea rattling around my head for months that I was planning to write as a three-minute short, but it will be good practice to tell it in a disciplined way. It also might attract attention as it is a drama, and one-minuters are usually comedic. I have a day off work, write the script and prepare the materials, including more storyboards (five copies of everything). I put everything in the post, thinking that the long one is a definite contender, but that maybe it wasn’t worth rushing the short one, as it doesn’t stand much of a chance.

Mid-August: I get a call from Screen South. I’ve made it to the long shortlist. Hooray! But only for one of my projects: my one-minute drama “Out of the Frying Pan” is going through to the next stage of selection. The other one isn’t. Show’s what I know…

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…

The British Short Screenplay Competition

Just a heads up that the BSSC early deadline fast approaches.

Early deadline: 27th April 2007, for entry fee of £25.
Final deadline: 22nd June 2007, for entry fee of £35.

Disclaimer: I'm not associated with the scheme in any way, nor do I officially endorse it, check the small print before you apply, etc, etc. The judges list is always impressive,though. See here.

I have a suitable screenplay, but it needs further work; so, I'm going to wait and see how it turns out. This affords me another couple on months of hoping and dreaming that I'll get a big fat option cheque, or big fat TV salary. I'll then be able to fund my own short, should I wish to, without entering a competition, which always feels a bit like writing to "Jim'll Fix It" and asking to be screenwriter for a day. Anyone else feel like this?

Early Adopters, and Other Animals

Tom Smith, who talked passionately at the Website event on Thursday (see below), has graciously taken it upon himself, further demonstrating the possibilities out there in blogland, to create an instant online community for the writers who attended. Converts have been emailing him the details of their new blogs, and he’s adding them to a links page, here: uncrushed diaries.

His email revealed that I was one of the first five to contact him, and he dubbed me an “early adopter”. I’d love that to be true, but I could have been here so much earlier. In 2004, I remember finding out about blogs for the first time. I was unsure of their worth then, but the idea tempted me.

My Day Job is in IT, and involves almost 100% web-based technologies; nevertheless, I’m a Luddite. This is not as unusual as you might think; many, many good and hard-working colleagues I’ve served with in technology jobs hate technology. I turned to one of these fellows on that day, and said “I’m trying to be a writer, maybe I should start a blog.” He looked at me a little sadly, and said “No – no one cares”. It did seem odd to write entry after entry about how I hadn’t got a gig yet, so that was the end of that for meek old me.

Now, years after I first started taking the screenwriting seriously – I’m certainly not an early adopter in this field (but wouldn’t it be nice to be an overnight success?!) – I’ve reached my first professional credit. In all that time, I’ve read the gurus and practitioners’ handbooks, done a lot of the courses, and joined various groups. I’ve even stopped being such a wallflower when it comes to networking. But just with a few clicks from the links page, I’ve found out there’s so much more to know. And I’ve found out more about some of the writers in attendance on Thursday than I possibly could have while chatting over the wine and nibbles provided.

And even if my ramblings here don’t prove useful, at least I can provide a route to any other interesting blogs and sites I find. And I can read about all those people trying for the same things I’m trying for, and going through the same things I’m going through. No one cares? Pah! Rubbish.