Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Breaking Bad pilot - free and legal download
The British iTunes store has the pilot episode of American drama series Breaking Bad free to download this week. Bryan Cranston just won the best actor Emmy for his performance in this show, it's well worth checking out - especially for free. That is all.
Is your writing a job or a vocation?
A fellow blogger has posted about their attitude to writing. They consider it a job, not a vocation - interesting, great, even wonderful, but still a job at the end of the day. My well-thumbed dictionary defines job as "an individual piece of work or task, an occupation, a duty or responsibility". It defines a vocation as "a special urge or predisposition to a particular calling or career." Which of those best describes your attitude to writing?
For me, it's a vocation. Hell, it's a compulsion. If a day goes by and I haven't written something - anything - I'll get antsy. I go on holiday for a week and the need to write is like a craving after a few days. Of course, there have been times when writing felt more like a chore, a job of work to do done, than a joy. Not every piece of writing makes the fire of creativity warm you with happiness - particularly when you write for a living.
But I'd much rather be writing than doing anything else. Even when I had a full-time job working with brilliant writers and artists, working 10-12 hours a day plus chunks of the weekend, I still had to write. Does that make me a better, more pure writer than someone who considers it a job, rather than a vocation? Of course not. Every writer is different, just as every story is different. But I am a writer. It's what I do, who I am. Onwards.
For me, it's a vocation. Hell, it's a compulsion. If a day goes by and I haven't written something - anything - I'll get antsy. I go on holiday for a week and the need to write is like a craving after a few days. Of course, there have been times when writing felt more like a chore, a job of work to do done, than a joy. Not every piece of writing makes the fire of creativity warm you with happiness - particularly when you write for a living.
But I'd much rather be writing than doing anything else. Even when I had a full-time job working with brilliant writers and artists, working 10-12 hours a day plus chunks of the weekend, I still had to write. Does that make me a better, more pure writer than someone who considers it a job, rather than a vocation? Of course not. Every writer is different, just as every story is different. But I am a writer. It's what I do, who I am. Onwards.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Making It As A Screenwriter: buy this book
Making It As A Screenwriter is a brilliant guide to breaking into the business of screenwriting. It doesn't tell you how to write, or offer the promise of guaranteed success - you achieve that through your own talent and hard work. Instead the book distills the advice and hard-won wisdom working writer Adrian Mead offers at his sell-out workshops. Best of all, pay to download a copy [£7.79 + VAT] and all profits go to the charity Childline.
Not convinced? Read this: “In the confusing forest of screenwriting books here is a sturdy oak: simple, honest and true. Highly recommended" - Ashley Pharoah, co-creator of Life On Mars and Ashes To Ashes. “Every aspiring writer should be forced to read this, at gunpoint. If I'd had this when I first started writing, I'd have cried a bit, but would have been so much better prepared” - James Moran, screenwriter for Doctor Who, Torchwood, Primeval.
Having helped copy edit the book, I can only add my recommendation to that of the esteemed scribes above. To find out more about Making It As A SCreenwriter, visit this page.
Not convinced? Read this: “In the confusing forest of screenwriting books here is a sturdy oak: simple, honest and true. Highly recommended" - Ashley Pharoah, co-creator of Life On Mars and Ashes To Ashes. “Every aspiring writer should be forced to read this, at gunpoint. If I'd had this when I first started writing, I'd have cried a bit, but would have been so much better prepared” - James Moran, screenwriter for Doctor Who, Torchwood, Primeval.
Having helped copy edit the book, I can only add my recommendation to that of the esteemed scribes above. To find out more about Making It As A SCreenwriter, visit this page.
Writer song meme thing
That scamp Lucy memed me: Find a song that sums up what you think it means to be a writer and post the lyrics on your blog and why you've chosen it. NB: It doesn't have to be your favourite song, it just has to express how you feel about writing and/or being a writer. It can be literal, metaphorical, about a particular form or aspect of writing - whatever you want. Then tag 5 others to do the same.
My choice is Ali in the Jungle by The Hours. Catchy as all get out, heartfelt too. Best of it, it sums up the writer's lot in life. Rejection is a fact for writers much of the time. How you cope with it, how you come back from being turned down over and over defines your future. Many people believe talent will out, but only if you give it the chance to be seen. That often means coming back from rejection. Anywhere, here's what The Hours say...
I tag Joel, Pete, Paul, Jane, and Andy.
My choice is Ali in the Jungle by The Hours. Catchy as all get out, heartfelt too. Best of it, it sums up the writer's lot in life. Rejection is a fact for writers much of the time. How you cope with it, how you come back from being turned down over and over defines your future. Many people believe talent will out, but only if you give it the chance to be seen. That often means coming back from rejection. Anywhere, here's what The Hours say...
It's not how you start, it's how you finish.
And it's not where you're from, it's where you're at.
[REFRAIN:]
Everybody gets knocked down,
Everybody gets knocked down,
How quick are you gonna get up?
How quick are you gonna get up?
Everybody gets knocked down,
Everybody gets knocked down,
How quick are you gonna get up?
Just how are you gonna get up?
[CHORUS:]
Like Ali in the jungle,
Like Nelson in jail,
Like Simpson on the mountain,
With odds like that, they were bound to fail.
Like Keller in the darkness,
Like Adam's in the dark,
Like Ludwig Van, how I loved that man,
Well the guy went deaf and didn't give a damn, no.
No, no, no.
It's not where you are, it's where you're going.
Where are you going?
And it's not about the things you've done, it's what you're doing now.
What are you doing now?
[REFRAIN, CHORUS]
It's the greatest comeback since Lazarus,
The greatest comeback since Lazarus.
It's the greatest comeback since Lazarus,
The greatest comeback.
It's the greatest comeback since Lazarus,
The greatest comeback.
The greatest comeback since Lazarus,
The greatest comeback.
I tag Joel, Pete, Paul, Jane, and Andy.
Friday, September 26, 2008
What's with the envelope kissing? Sheesh!
Put my Red Planet Prize entry in the post yesterday. Gave it one last read and tweak before consigning it to the Royal Mail and moving on. However I did not kiss the envelope before I sealed it down, unlike some other scribes I could name [witness their freaky lip-smacking superstition here and here]. I'm not knocking superstition, you understand, but kissing envelopes ain't one of mine.
When I was reading every unsolicited submission sent to 2000 AD, the weekly comic was getting a fistful most days. Since some came from the nuttier end of the spectrum, I took a few precautions. Opening unsolicited submissions with a letter opener, not your finger - you never know what's lurking inside. I'm not saying people embedded razor blades in their envelope, but it felt like that if you dragged your fingers across unclamped staples.
If the submitter was kind enough to include a stamped, self-addressed envelope, they got a reply. [If they were obviously talented, they got a reply anyway, but that was one in 50 submissions at best. More like one in 100.] But I never, ever licked the supplied envelope before sticking it down. Who knows where that envelope's been before it got to my desk? You want me to swipe my tongue across that? Not without dinner and movie. Maybe flowers too.
Hmm, seem to have wandered off the point. Oh yes, my RPP entry. Having planned to write a new piece for the competition, I couldn't get happy with either of the efforts I was developing. The Revengers felt too generic, too familiar - lacking the mad spark of originality I wanted. I'm still fond of My Family of De'ath, but that feels like a story in transition, so that's gone back into my subconscious for further percolation. Time make a wine, y;know.
In the end I went back to Families At War, my WWII domestic drama and gave that grud knows how many polishes. Those ten pages gleam. Not perfection but they're as good as I'm gonna get them right now. Let's face it, RPP is such a long shot - 2000 entries last year for one first prize. Twenty people got a Tony Jordan masterclass for their efforts, but even that's still one in 100 odds. If you're realistic, those are some very long odds.
I'm not knocking the RPP. The deadline's a brilliant motivating tool, there's no fee for entering and it persuades people who've never sent their work anywhere to have a go - that's the first step on the long path to a writing career. But having read for the likes of Scottish Screen, TAPS and GMAC, I'm also aware that every entry is just one amongst so many on a reader's desk. Standing out from the crowd ain't easy. Good luck to us all.
When I was reading every unsolicited submission sent to 2000 AD, the weekly comic was getting a fistful most days. Since some came from the nuttier end of the spectrum, I took a few precautions. Opening unsolicited submissions with a letter opener, not your finger - you never know what's lurking inside. I'm not saying people embedded razor blades in their envelope, but it felt like that if you dragged your fingers across unclamped staples.
If the submitter was kind enough to include a stamped, self-addressed envelope, they got a reply. [If they were obviously talented, they got a reply anyway, but that was one in 50 submissions at best. More like one in 100.] But I never, ever licked the supplied envelope before sticking it down. Who knows where that envelope's been before it got to my desk? You want me to swipe my tongue across that? Not without dinner and movie. Maybe flowers too.
Hmm, seem to have wandered off the point. Oh yes, my RPP entry. Having planned to write a new piece for the competition, I couldn't get happy with either of the efforts I was developing. The Revengers felt too generic, too familiar - lacking the mad spark of originality I wanted. I'm still fond of My Family of De'ath, but that feels like a story in transition, so that's gone back into my subconscious for further percolation. Time make a wine, y;know.
In the end I went back to Families At War, my WWII domestic drama and gave that grud knows how many polishes. Those ten pages gleam. Not perfection but they're as good as I'm gonna get them right now. Let's face it, RPP is such a long shot - 2000 entries last year for one first prize. Twenty people got a Tony Jordan masterclass for their efforts, but even that's still one in 100 odds. If you're realistic, those are some very long odds.
I'm not knocking the RPP. The deadline's a brilliant motivating tool, there's no fee for entering and it persuades people who've never sent their work anywhere to have a go - that's the first step on the long path to a writing career. But having read for the likes of Scottish Screen, TAPS and GMAC, I'm also aware that every entry is just one amongst so many on a reader's desk. Standing out from the crowd ain't easy. Good luck to us all.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Tasty track 'o the day: Linoleum by Tweaker
Loving this old track by Tweaker, featuring David Sylvian. But freaked by the fact he and David Beckham are turning into twins as they get older. What's that all about?
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The joy of making it different
Got advance warning of a major note on a project I'm writing. Won't get my proper notes until next week, but it seems an important element of my first draft is too similar to an important element in a story told nine years ago. This is pure coincidence as I've never experienced the old story - if I had, I'd have done something different in mine. It's unfortunate nobody else spotted the similarity until after I'd written my draft, but that's how it is.
Fact: some things only become apparent when you read a full script. A short pitch, even a full treatment, can tell you a lot about a proposed script - but not everything. For example, years ago I wrote a Doctor Who audio drama called Full Fathom Five. Everybody signed off on the treatment and I was commissioned to write my first draft. When I delivered it, my script editor noticed one character was surplus to requirement. Goodbye to that character.
That's a classic case of everybody failing to recognise a flaw in the treatment. Sometimes you simply need to see a finished draft to spot these problems. Notes like that can be frustrating when they arrive. But so long as the resulting rewrites make the script better, it's all for the best. Less satisfying is the note that essentially says 'make it different', but it's part of the job. No point crying over spilled toner.
When my notes arrives next week, there could well be an element of 'make it different' about them - so be it. The best thing to do is treeat this as opportunity. Is there a more interesting way of achieving the same story beats while making it different? How can I better use the strengths of this project's storytelling medium to improve upon my first effort? I need to make sure my second draft is not just different where required, it's also better.
But that's next week's job. For now I'm consigning that task to my subconscious, along with plotting out ideas for a novel proposal needed soon. This week I've got my 38th issue of costumed comics hero the Phantom to write, and a 140+ page script to analyse for two friends. Plus a telephone conversation tomorrow that might lead to an exciting opportunity. More news as I get it, once I'm allowed to talk about it. Meanwhile, let's boogie. Onwards.
Fact: some things only become apparent when you read a full script. A short pitch, even a full treatment, can tell you a lot about a proposed script - but not everything. For example, years ago I wrote a Doctor Who audio drama called Full Fathom Five. Everybody signed off on the treatment and I was commissioned to write my first draft. When I delivered it, my script editor noticed one character was surplus to requirement. Goodbye to that character.
That's a classic case of everybody failing to recognise a flaw in the treatment. Sometimes you simply need to see a finished draft to spot these problems. Notes like that can be frustrating when they arrive. But so long as the resulting rewrites make the script better, it's all for the best. Less satisfying is the note that essentially says 'make it different', but it's part of the job. No point crying over spilled toner.
When my notes arrives next week, there could well be an element of 'make it different' about them - so be it. The best thing to do is treeat this as opportunity. Is there a more interesting way of achieving the same story beats while making it different? How can I better use the strengths of this project's storytelling medium to improve upon my first effort? I need to make sure my second draft is not just different where required, it's also better.
But that's next week's job. For now I'm consigning that task to my subconscious, along with plotting out ideas for a novel proposal needed soon. This week I've got my 38th issue of costumed comics hero the Phantom to write, and a 140+ page script to analyse for two friends. Plus a telephone conversation tomorrow that might lead to an exciting opportunity. More news as I get it, once I'm allowed to talk about it. Meanwhile, let's boogie. Onwards.
Monday, September 22, 2008
30 Rock, Mad Men dominates Emmys
American network TV must be grateful to 30 Rock, as it was almost the only show from one of the five broadcasters to win last night at the Emmys. The smart and sassy sitcom took best comedy, best comedy actress [show creator Tina Fey], best comedy actor [Alec Baldwin] and best comedy writing [Tine Fey again, natch]. A few other network series picked up an award here and there - House, Pushing Daisies, Entourage - but the night belonged to cable.
Basic cable and pay channels won big. HBO has long dominated at the Emmys, thanks to perennial winners like The Sopranos. It continued to lead the way in mini-series and movie categories, with the John Adams biopic sweeping almost all before it. But FX and AMC got plenty of love too. Mad Men won best drama series, the first time a basic cable show has taken this accolade. Mad Men creator Matthew Weiner also got best drama writing for the pilot.
Surprisingly, Mad Men lead Jon Hamm got pipped by Bryan Cranston [he played Malcolm in the Middle's dad, you know] for best actor in a drama series. Cranston gives a startling performance in Breaking Bad as a terminally ill teacher who turns to drug manufacturing to secure his family's financial future, but I think Hamm deserved the trophy. Glenn Close from Damages won for best drama series actress, a performance of chilling, steely resolution.
But my favourite win of the night has to be best supporting actor in a drama series. Who cares about this category except those nominated in it, their friends and family, right? But this year the prize went to Zeljko Ivanek for his work on Damages. Character actor Ivanek has added depth and lustre to shows for years, stretching back to Homocide: Life on the Streets and beyond. His performance on Damages was well worth a trophy last night.
Basic cable and pay channels won big. HBO has long dominated at the Emmys, thanks to perennial winners like The Sopranos. It continued to lead the way in mini-series and movie categories, with the John Adams biopic sweeping almost all before it. But FX and AMC got plenty of love too. Mad Men won best drama series, the first time a basic cable show has taken this accolade. Mad Men creator Matthew Weiner also got best drama writing for the pilot.
Surprisingly, Mad Men lead Jon Hamm got pipped by Bryan Cranston [he played Malcolm in the Middle's dad, you know] for best actor in a drama series. Cranston gives a startling performance in Breaking Bad as a terminally ill teacher who turns to drug manufacturing to secure his family's financial future, but I think Hamm deserved the trophy. Glenn Close from Damages won for best drama series actress, a performance of chilling, steely resolution.
But my favourite win of the night has to be best supporting actor in a drama series. Who cares about this category except those nominated in it, their friends and family, right? But this year the prize went to Zeljko Ivanek for his work on Damages. Character actor Ivanek has added depth and lustre to shows for years, stretching back to Homocide: Life on the Streets and beyond. His performance on Damages was well worth a trophy last night.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
McCain & Palin: The Dark Knight [Remix]
Prepping for a trip down to That Fancy London tomorrow, so no time for lengthy musings, either somesuch or whatnot. Should you need a chuckle, visit here and see the wry juxtapositions of scribe Matt Shepherd. He's posted a medley of John McCain photos, with captions boxes from Batman: The Dark Knight Returns superimposed over the top. Below are two examples. I'm sure the latter example can be taken any number of ways, if you get my meaning...
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Sometimes inspiration takes a little longer
It's frustrating, but there are times you have to recognise a particular story isn't ready to be written yet. You make a start, go through all your usual routines and find yourself sitting there. Staring at the screen. And nothing's coming. No bright ideas, no dazzling moments of inspiration, no clever set-ups you can pay off later. Just bland, formulaic and dull retreads of old stories, old ideas, old tropes. You've run out of juice, it seems.
Some people call this writer's block and go into a blind panic. It can be hard to quell that tiny voice at the back of your head saying this is the day you run out of ideas. This is the day there's nothing left in tank. This is the day the world realises you've been faking it all this time, playing fast and loose, that you have no actual talent and everything before this moment was a combination of luck, flukiness and plain old prestidigitation.
To which I say: cobblers. Writer's block just means you aren't ready to write that particular story. Go do something else. Read a book, watch a film, visit a gallery, take a walk. Come back later and try writing something else instead. Eventually that nagging voice at the back of your head will have an idea or an inkling or a spark, something that can kickstart the tale you've been stalled on. Leastways, that's how it works for me.
Of course, there's another school of thought. [Look away now if you're skittish.] Some singers believe they have a finite number of songs in their voice - let's call it a million notes for the sake of debate. Sing enough notes and your voice's power will diminsh, its quality deteriorate. Singers spend years honing their instrument and their technique, becoming a professional. How many of those million notes must they expend to get good?
Now, imagine if the same idea was applied to writing. How many stories and ideas must you create and write to hone your talent and your technique? How much time and how many years of life will you expend to get good at writing? Because none of us live forever and all careers are finite. [Well, apparently not Tupac, but he's the exception.] My attitude is this: I haven't got time to indulge in writer's block. Writers write. Onwards.
Some people call this writer's block and go into a blind panic. It can be hard to quell that tiny voice at the back of your head saying this is the day you run out of ideas. This is the day there's nothing left in tank. This is the day the world realises you've been faking it all this time, playing fast and loose, that you have no actual talent and everything before this moment was a combination of luck, flukiness and plain old prestidigitation.
To which I say: cobblers. Writer's block just means you aren't ready to write that particular story. Go do something else. Read a book, watch a film, visit a gallery, take a walk. Come back later and try writing something else instead. Eventually that nagging voice at the back of your head will have an idea or an inkling or a spark, something that can kickstart the tale you've been stalled on. Leastways, that's how it works for me.
Of course, there's another school of thought. [Look away now if you're skittish.] Some singers believe they have a finite number of songs in their voice - let's call it a million notes for the sake of debate. Sing enough notes and your voice's power will diminsh, its quality deteriorate. Singers spend years honing their instrument and their technique, becoming a professional. How many of those million notes must they expend to get good?
Now, imagine if the same idea was applied to writing. How many stories and ideas must you create and write to hone your talent and your technique? How much time and how many years of life will you expend to get good at writing? Because none of us live forever and all careers are finite. [Well, apparently not Tupac, but he's the exception.] My attitude is this: I haven't got time to indulge in writer's block. Writers write. Onwards.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Can you sum up your story in a single word?
This is a great test for determining the central theme of any story: can you sum it up in a single word? Think I first read about this on John Rogers' blog, Kung Fu Monkey. He's written many great things, and also the Catwoman movie that starred Halle Berry [nobody's great all the time, it seems]. Spitballing in the writers' room for a TV series, Rogers and company had a game of One Word Summary. Here's an extract from the relevant blog post:
The teams went away, creating characters and turning points aplenty. Then we came back and pitched the results to producer Peter Lloyd for his reactions. Aside from proving how quickly ideas can be developed out of thin air, it also reinforced the need to know what your story's about. When we finished our story, Peter asked us about it was about. From nowhere I came up with the answer: respect. Suddenly it all made sense, a real epiphany moment.
I've been reading a lot of Red Planet Prize entries and other scripts later, both for friends and professionally [i.e. for money]. Employing the One Word Summary game sorts out the muddled from the focused in moments. If I have to grope about to identify the theme, the writer's in some sort of trouble. I've been applying the same standard to my own work. Before going to the mini-academy, I put together ten story ideas in case I needed them.
I dug those back out at the weekend and was shocked to see how many simply don't hang together once I played One Word Summary with them. Interesting medical conditions, some intriguing character dilemmas - but what are the stories really about? If I couldn't sum them up in a single word, it told me I needed to take a step back. If you haven't found the essence of your story, it ain't ready for prime time [or 1.45pm on BBC1, as the case may be].
So, if you're writing a story at the moment or polishing your entry for the Red Planet Prize, ask yourself the same question: can you sum it up in a single word?
Rogers: The idea is, you're trying to develop your writing compass. It helps you figure out the theme in your own work, so you can always make sure you're on beam. When in doubt, you focus on that word. What's the movie about?Snarked! Leaving aside the last exchange from above, the One Word Summary game is a great way of testing how well you know the story you're telling. If you can't sum it up in a single word, chances are you haven't discovered the essence yet. This came up on the Doctors mini-academy I did with the BBC in July. One of the team exercises was creating a Story of the Day from scratch in 45 minutes [boy, does that concentrate that mind].
Boylan: What if you get it wrong?
Rogers: You can't get it wrong. It's whatever you think the movie's about. Sometimes the word you pick says more about you than the movie you're discussing.
Rieder: Four Weddings and a Funeral.
Rogers: "Change."
Rieder: Huh. I see that. The English Patient.
Rogers: "Loss."
Albert: Can you do it with TV shows? Maybe individual episodes.
Rogers: I don't know, I'd say Buffy is "solitude."
Boylan: I would have said "loneliness."
Rogers: Better, actually.
Berg: What was the one word in your head for Catwoman?
Downey: "Mortgage."
The teams went away, creating characters and turning points aplenty. Then we came back and pitched the results to producer Peter Lloyd for his reactions. Aside from proving how quickly ideas can be developed out of thin air, it also reinforced the need to know what your story's about. When we finished our story, Peter asked us about it was about. From nowhere I came up with the answer: respect. Suddenly it all made sense, a real epiphany moment.
I've been reading a lot of Red Planet Prize entries and other scripts later, both for friends and professionally [i.e. for money]. Employing the One Word Summary game sorts out the muddled from the focused in moments. If I have to grope about to identify the theme, the writer's in some sort of trouble. I've been applying the same standard to my own work. Before going to the mini-academy, I put together ten story ideas in case I needed them.
I dug those back out at the weekend and was shocked to see how many simply don't hang together once I played One Word Summary with them. Interesting medical conditions, some intriguing character dilemmas - but what are the stories really about? If I couldn't sum them up in a single word, it told me I needed to take a step back. If you haven't found the essence of your story, it ain't ready for prime time [or 1.45pm on BBC1, as the case may be].
So, if you're writing a story at the moment or polishing your entry for the Red Planet Prize, ask yourself the same question: can you sum it up in a single word?
Monday, September 15, 2008
Getting to where you want to be
An organisation called literaturetraining [the UK's only dedicated provider of free information and advice on professional development for writers and literature professionals] has issused a booklet called Getting To Where You Want To Be. It's a do it yourself guide to planning your professional development that encourages you to think about the way forward in your career.
I got sent a copy of the booklet last week and worked my way through the first half last night. So far I've looked at where I am now, where I've been, and assessed how I divide my work in terms of time spent and income earned. Among the exercises was a series of pie-charts, where you can quickly compare your priorities. For example, writing comics generated a large slice of my income last year, but occupied a much smaller slice of my time.
By comparison, speculative screenwriting took up the largest slice of my time in that piechart, yet generated a tiny slither of income. That reflects a conscious decision I made to sacrifice income for the pursuit of a future in screenwriting [particularly TV drama]. The slices of time and income relating to novels are about even, as are the same measurements for non-fiction books and journalism. Ditto audio dramas, such as radio plays and the like.
The last section I completed looked at where I wanted to go. You set ambitious, specific goals for the next three to five years. You think about what you have done and identify what you don't want. Apply a reality check to your goals, bearing in mind some will be influenced by external circumstances [securing representation, getting a commission, winning a place on something like the BBC Writers' Academy]. Now prioritize your goals.
What's the most important thing for me to achieve in the next three to five years. Must certain things happen first to make some goals attainable? Do you let unimportant yet seemingly urgent activities take over your daily work, derailing efforts to achieve long-term ambitions? Which of your goals can wait until a later date? It's been fascinating to go through these exercises and questions, getting a status check on my efforts and ambitions.
I've still got to delve deeper into my ambitions, create a plan of action and set up regular reviews to assess my progress. Plus there's plenty of extra exercises scattered through the booklet to flesh out elements of the DIY guide. All in all, it's proving a useful and interesting tool to plotting a way forwards for my writing career. Best of all, it's free and available to download here [bottom right hand corner of that page].
I recommend working through the booklet in two stages. And bring a buddy, somebody to ask the questions and leave you free to figure out your answers. [They can also chip in suggestions or observations.] Do it with your partner and, if they're not a writer too, they'll get a sense of how your career might progress. As writers we do plenty of things in isolation, this is something you can get help completing and involve them in the process. Onwards.
I got sent a copy of the booklet last week and worked my way through the first half last night. So far I've looked at where I am now, where I've been, and assessed how I divide my work in terms of time spent and income earned. Among the exercises was a series of pie-charts, where you can quickly compare your priorities. For example, writing comics generated a large slice of my income last year, but occupied a much smaller slice of my time.
By comparison, speculative screenwriting took up the largest slice of my time in that piechart, yet generated a tiny slither of income. That reflects a conscious decision I made to sacrifice income for the pursuit of a future in screenwriting [particularly TV drama]. The slices of time and income relating to novels are about even, as are the same measurements for non-fiction books and journalism. Ditto audio dramas, such as radio plays and the like.
The last section I completed looked at where I wanted to go. You set ambitious, specific goals for the next three to five years. You think about what you have done and identify what you don't want. Apply a reality check to your goals, bearing in mind some will be influenced by external circumstances [securing representation, getting a commission, winning a place on something like the BBC Writers' Academy]. Now prioritize your goals.
What's the most important thing for me to achieve in the next three to five years. Must certain things happen first to make some goals attainable? Do you let unimportant yet seemingly urgent activities take over your daily work, derailing efforts to achieve long-term ambitions? Which of your goals can wait until a later date? It's been fascinating to go through these exercises and questions, getting a status check on my efforts and ambitions.
I've still got to delve deeper into my ambitions, create a plan of action and set up regular reviews to assess my progress. Plus there's plenty of extra exercises scattered through the booklet to flesh out elements of the DIY guide. All in all, it's proving a useful and interesting tool to plotting a way forwards for my writing career. Best of all, it's free and available to download here [bottom right hand corner of that page].
I recommend working through the booklet in two stages. And bring a buddy, somebody to ask the questions and leave you free to figure out your answers. [They can also chip in suggestions or observations.] Do it with your partner and, if they're not a writer too, they'll get a sense of how your career might progress. As writers we do plenty of things in isolation, this is something you can get help completing and involve them in the process. Onwards.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
The 'great idea, we've already got one' rejection
Writers hear 'no' far more often than they ever hear 'yes' over the course of a career. You'll go through spells when everything you touch is finger-lickin' good, and other spells when every pitch, spec and proposal gets dismissed as arse-wipin' bad. Of course, there are many kinds of rejection. The straight dismissal with no explanation or chance of feedback - that's a pisser. The constructive criticism rejection, that's at least helpful.
Then there's the 'great idea, we've already got one' rejection. It's a compliment of sorts but no less frustrating. Yes, you're coming up with ideas that match what people are looking for, you have your finger on their pulse. [Of course, it could just be unhappy coincidence, but that's the bad voices at the back of your psyche talking.] You feel like your pitch might have gotten the nod, if you'd just submitted it sooner. So, a bit frustrating.
Rejections are one of the reasons I don't have pets. Why make some poor animal suffer as a surrogate for my frustration. So your old ideas got rejected? Get over it, move on. Better yet, have a fistful of fresh ideas ready to fling into the machine. Experience is what you get when you didn't get what you wanted, as a wise man once said. Persistence plus talent always wins through in my experience. So this is me, keeping going. Onwards.
Then there's the 'great idea, we've already got one' rejection. It's a compliment of sorts but no less frustrating. Yes, you're coming up with ideas that match what people are looking for, you have your finger on their pulse. [Of course, it could just be unhappy coincidence, but that's the bad voices at the back of your psyche talking.] You feel like your pitch might have gotten the nod, if you'd just submitted it sooner. So, a bit frustrating.
Rejections are one of the reasons I don't have pets. Why make some poor animal suffer as a surrogate for my frustration. So your old ideas got rejected? Get over it, move on. Better yet, have a fistful of fresh ideas ready to fling into the machine. Experience is what you get when you didn't get what you wanted, as a wise man once said. Persistence plus talent always wins through in my experience. So this is me, keeping going. Onwards.
Friday, September 12, 2008
So what is a precinct drama, precisely?
Been swapping the first ten pages of my RPP entry with various scribes, getting and giving feedback. It's fascinating to see the mixture of subjects, genres, styles and stories people are prepping. But the one area where everybody seems to be struggling? Not the story, not the script, not coming up with exciting and entertaining characters, eye-catching openings or breath-taking page ten turning points. That's what we do every day, we're writers.
No, it's the single page outline that is baking everyone's noodle. How much plot to include, or how little? How long will your episodes be? Are they continuing or returning drama? Drama with some humour or actual, proper comedy drama? Can you identify who's story it is if you're writing a big ensemble piece? Should you name-check series that offer a guide to your creation's style, tone or content? Can you fit all this in one page?
I've already rewritten my outline document more times than I care to remember, honing and refining - but it needs another draft or three. For example, I got myself mixed up with a mixed up kind of kid. Their name is precinct drama, and nobody seems to agree on who or what that means. According to the dictionary, a precinct is an enclosed area or building marked by a fixed boundary. So a precinct drama should be set all in one building or environment, right?
Maybe, maybe not. According to others a precinct drama revolves solely around the working lives of your cast. The Bill is all about coppers in the Sun Hill district, so does that make it a precinct drama? Or a workplace drama? What's the difference between the two? Shameless all takes place on the one housing estate, does that make it a precinct drama? What about Holby City? Benidorm? Like I said, there doesn't seem to be one accepted definition.
So, here's a question for writers reading this blog: what do you understand by the term precinct drama? What does it mean to you?
No, it's the single page outline that is baking everyone's noodle. How much plot to include, or how little? How long will your episodes be? Are they continuing or returning drama? Drama with some humour or actual, proper comedy drama? Can you identify who's story it is if you're writing a big ensemble piece? Should you name-check series that offer a guide to your creation's style, tone or content? Can you fit all this in one page?
I've already rewritten my outline document more times than I care to remember, honing and refining - but it needs another draft or three. For example, I got myself mixed up with a mixed up kind of kid. Their name is precinct drama, and nobody seems to agree on who or what that means. According to the dictionary, a precinct is an enclosed area or building marked by a fixed boundary. So a precinct drama should be set all in one building or environment, right?
Maybe, maybe not. According to others a precinct drama revolves solely around the working lives of your cast. The Bill is all about coppers in the Sun Hill district, so does that make it a precinct drama? Or a workplace drama? What's the difference between the two? Shameless all takes place on the one housing estate, does that make it a precinct drama? What about Holby City? Benidorm? Like I said, there doesn't seem to be one accepted definition.
So, here's a question for writers reading this blog: what do you understand by the term precinct drama? What does it mean to you?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Complications versus complexity
Been sending out the first ten pages of my Red Planet Prize script to readers for feedback. It's always fascinating to see what sits well with some people that jars with others. Everybody seems to agree the big turning point on page ten packs a real punch. One reader felt there was a lot going on, but they wanted more to happen before that moment - another incident to grab the audience.
I can understand that point of view, but it's a note I'm getting to set to one side for now. My RPP entry has a big ensemble of characters, all of whom get introduced in the first eight pages. They need to establish distinct identities for themselves without funny hat characterisation. Most importantly, we need to see their normal lives before the turning point that changes everything. So I'm taking the first eight pages to set up all of that.
There's a fine line between complications and complexity. Complications is throwing more stuff into the mix - characters, incidents, general legerdemain - to dazzle the audience. Complexity is delving that bit deeper with the material you have, endeavouring to layer some subtext beneath the surface. I'm aiming for complexity in my RPP entry. Grud knows this version ha less complications than the early incarnation I submitted to RPP last year.
That had twenty speaking characters, most of them introduced in the first ten pages. Four different plotlines explored forbidden love scenarious, way too much duplication and redundancy. And the vast ensemble lacked focus, with too many peripheral characters distracting attention away from the two families at the heart of my narrative. Much of that has gone, giving more room to explore core characters and some visual storytelling.
The best thing about feedback is everybody brings a different focus to any script they read. Some dig into the dialogue, pointing out clunky exposition or on-the-nose emoting. Others highlight scene to scene transitions, or the weight of emphasis, or the need to drive events forward. Every opinion has merit but mine has to be the one that matters. Follow every piece of feedback slavishly and you abrogate responsibility for your story. Onwards.
I can understand that point of view, but it's a note I'm getting to set to one side for now. My RPP entry has a big ensemble of characters, all of whom get introduced in the first eight pages. They need to establish distinct identities for themselves without funny hat characterisation. Most importantly, we need to see their normal lives before the turning point that changes everything. So I'm taking the first eight pages to set up all of that.
There's a fine line between complications and complexity. Complications is throwing more stuff into the mix - characters, incidents, general legerdemain - to dazzle the audience. Complexity is delving that bit deeper with the material you have, endeavouring to layer some subtext beneath the surface. I'm aiming for complexity in my RPP entry. Grud knows this version ha less complications than the early incarnation I submitted to RPP last year.
That had twenty speaking characters, most of them introduced in the first ten pages. Four different plotlines explored forbidden love scenarious, way too much duplication and redundancy. And the vast ensemble lacked focus, with too many peripheral characters distracting attention away from the two families at the heart of my narrative. Much of that has gone, giving more room to explore core characters and some visual storytelling.
The best thing about feedback is everybody brings a different focus to any script they read. Some dig into the dialogue, pointing out clunky exposition or on-the-nose emoting. Others highlight scene to scene transitions, or the weight of emphasis, or the need to drive events forward. Every opinion has merit but mine has to be the one that matters. Follow every piece of feedback slavishly and you abrogate responsibility for your story. Onwards.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Top 10 TV Pilots: 'I hate spunk!'
TV Guide has published a list of its Top 10 TV Pilots. There are some strong choices [The Sopranos, ER], some odd choices [Alias? Desperate Housewives? and a few that beggar belief [the rejected US version of Footballer's Wives? Really?]. But that's the joy of lists for you. Everybody has an opinion and most every opinion is equally valid.
For what it's worth, below are my Top 10 TV pilots and a few reasons why. Ask me again in a wee and I'd probably have a different list, but this'll do for now. [They're not in order of merit, by the way.]
1. FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS - I challenge you to watch this pilot and not be in pieces by the end. Great series too.
2. THE WEST WING - builds up everybody and BAM in walks the president in the last five minutes. Tops.
3. THE SOPRANOS - simple yet revolutionary, elegant yet brutal, the American Dream goes awry.
4. THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW - 'I hate spunk!'
5. HILL STREET BLUES - chaotic, charming, the progenitor for so many other shows since.
6. LOST - compelling, bizarre, imaginative - would that the series could match this promise.
7. THE SHIELD - proof that not just HBO does TV. Vic Mackie matches Tony Soprano for nuance.
8. TWIN PEAKS - you have entered The Twilight Zone via Peyton Place. Outstandingly oddball.
9. DOCTOR WHO - the 1963 pilot. So little budget, yet such genius.
10. INSPECTOR MORSE - rewrote the book for British TV drama, proving measured and intelligent could pull massive audiences in the Miami Vice era.
So, what are your Top 10 TV pilots?
For what it's worth, below are my Top 10 TV pilots and a few reasons why. Ask me again in a wee and I'd probably have a different list, but this'll do for now. [They're not in order of merit, by the way.]
1. FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS - I challenge you to watch this pilot and not be in pieces by the end. Great series too.
2. THE WEST WING - builds up everybody and BAM in walks the president in the last five minutes. Tops.
3. THE SOPRANOS - simple yet revolutionary, elegant yet brutal, the American Dream goes awry.
4. THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW - 'I hate spunk!'
5. HILL STREET BLUES - chaotic, charming, the progenitor for so many other shows since.
6. LOST - compelling, bizarre, imaginative - would that the series could match this promise.
7. THE SHIELD - proof that not just HBO does TV. Vic Mackie matches Tony Soprano for nuance.
8. TWIN PEAKS - you have entered The Twilight Zone via Peyton Place. Outstandingly oddball.
9. DOCTOR WHO - the 1963 pilot. So little budget, yet such genius.
10. INSPECTOR MORSE - rewrote the book for British TV drama, proving measured and intelligent could pull massive audiences in the Miami Vice era.
So, what are your Top 10 TV pilots?
Fair use vs copyright infringement
Across the Atlantic JK Rowling has won her court case to prevent a publisher issuing a Harry Potter lexicon. The author has been happy to allow the lexicon project online where it existed as a non-profit reference work about the seven-book series. But Rowling drew the line at it becoming a profit-making book, and the judge agreed. This was a classic argument about 'fair use', the dividing line between critical analysis and going too far.
Loosely put, there's a legal basis for authors quoting from the work of others - but only up to a point. You should fully acknowledge your sources. You mustn't borrow too heavily - about 250 words is a decent rule of thumb. And you should be quoting in the context of a critical analysis, where the substantial content comes for your own study of the chosen subject. But there are plenty of gray areas that smudge the boundaries of what's legal, moral or ethical.
The vast majority of my printed work has been licensed media tie-in books - original novels based on existing creations [Doctor Who, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Judge Dredd] and non-fiction tomes [Thrill-Power Overload, my authorised history of iconic British comic 2000 AD]. But I've also dabbled with independent reference books like Starring Michael Caine, which examined 80 films featuring the British actor without getting his input.
Even when you have a sound legal basis for including brief extracts from other writers in the context of a critical analysis, you still need to tread carefully. For example, there's an online stramash at the moment about a new sci-fi programme guide that includes extracts from fan reviews published on LiveJournal. The author uses these to demonstrate fan reaction to different episodes of the show. Some fans are flattered, others are infuriated.
Legally, it may well be that anything published online is ripe for quoting in the context of a critical analysis. [I used a tiny amount of online material in my 2000 AD book to help tell a fuller story.] The author who quotes is under no obligation to seek permission from those they quote, though there is a courtesy issue. When you have a hundred or more sources in a book, seeking permissions from everyone quoting is close to impossible.
I've seen my own words borrowed from online postings for use elsewhere - quotes from blog entries, twitter comments, even facebook status updates. You can take umbrage about that, or you can recognise that if you want something to remain private, simply don't post it online in a public place. Thanks to search engines, most anything you type online can be found and recycled.
Loosely put, there's a legal basis for authors quoting from the work of others - but only up to a point. You should fully acknowledge your sources. You mustn't borrow too heavily - about 250 words is a decent rule of thumb. And you should be quoting in the context of a critical analysis, where the substantial content comes for your own study of the chosen subject. But there are plenty of gray areas that smudge the boundaries of what's legal, moral or ethical.
The vast majority of my printed work has been licensed media tie-in books - original novels based on existing creations [Doctor Who, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Judge Dredd] and non-fiction tomes [Thrill-Power Overload, my authorised history of iconic British comic 2000 AD]. But I've also dabbled with independent reference books like Starring Michael Caine, which examined 80 films featuring the British actor without getting his input.
Even when you have a sound legal basis for including brief extracts from other writers in the context of a critical analysis, you still need to tread carefully. For example, there's an online stramash at the moment about a new sci-fi programme guide that includes extracts from fan reviews published on LiveJournal. The author uses these to demonstrate fan reaction to different episodes of the show. Some fans are flattered, others are infuriated.
Legally, it may well be that anything published online is ripe for quoting in the context of a critical analysis. [I used a tiny amount of online material in my 2000 AD book to help tell a fuller story.] The author who quotes is under no obligation to seek permission from those they quote, though there is a courtesy issue. When you have a hundred or more sources in a book, seeking permissions from everyone quoting is close to impossible.
I've seen my own words borrowed from online postings for use elsewhere - quotes from blog entries, twitter comments, even facebook status updates. You can take umbrage about that, or you can recognise that if you want something to remain private, simply don't post it online in a public place. Thanks to search engines, most anything you type online can be found and recycled.
Monday, September 08, 2008
The Woman Who Screamed Butterflies
Lucy at Write Here, Write Now has been saying some nice things about my spec script THE WOMAN WHO SCREAMED BUTTERFLIES. I've even had a couple of requests from people wanting to see the script, so spent the past couple of days giving it a polish. Mostly it was just tidying up a few moments, but give me the chance to add a new start and tweak the finale to reflect that.
Most of the things I write are commissions, not speculative. I'll be invited to pitch for a novel or an audio drama or other opportunity. I've got my bread and butter jobs, things that tick over by themselves [with a little careful nurturing]. It's not often I've got the time, cashflow or creative head-space to step outside my normal work and write something purely speculative. Plus I tend to need the motivation of a deadline to overcome initial inertia.
THE WOMAN WHO SCREAMED BUTTERFLIES [TWWSB hereafter] came about because of the BBC opportunity called Sharps. Submit a 30-minute original drama about 'the nation's health' and you were in with a chance of a week-long workshop, all expenses paid and even a little cash for your time and trouble. Deadline was only about a month, but if you can't create a 30-minute original script in that time you shouldn't be pursuing a TV writing career.
Can't remember where I got the title for TWWSB. I know it was some time ago. I did what I always do with strange words, odd phrases and possible titles: write them on a post-it note and stick that on the wall. You never know when they might come in handy. So it proved with TWWSB. When I heard about Sharps, I pondered what sort of story to tell. One thing was clear: the BBC didn't want any literal, precinct-based medical dramas. Cool.
My best writing tends to arise when I'm developing a story for its own sake, rather than second-guessing what others want. Every writer is unique, so the sooner you embrace your own unique voice, tell the stories only you can tell, the better. I decided my Sharps entry would be fly in the face of expectation. Not that I was trying to shock, but simply that I wanted to create a story that was special, unique. [Hmm, is that hubris I smell?]
I read somewhere that the purest kind of creativity happens in short bursts. You engage the unfiltered side of your brain, let loose with whatever lunacy bursts forth. You can always worry about organising it into act structures and turning points later. So I employ a splurge method when developing a new spec script. I write single sentences and phrases, one after another, whatever comes to mind. Fast as I can, just let inspiration flow.
Not everything that hits the page is worth keeping. More often than not, it'll be in the wrong order. Bits of backstory will pop out in the middle that have no placed in the finished plotline - they might inform the narrative, but never need be mentioned. But from this one or two page splurge a story will emerge, wild and umkempt, a tumble of words and images.
After that I step away from the story. Give it time to think about what it's done. Let the subconscious and the other, more organised side of my brain take hold of the tale, mould and shape it. When I'm ready to engage the story once more, it's time to find what works and what can be discarded. What needs further development and what stands up on its own. DANNY'S TOYS went through this process, and it's proved one of my best-read scripts to date.
TWWSB is another beneficiary of this scattershot methodology. I've no idea if the script will ever get any further than the printed page, but I'm proud of the results. It didn't make the cut for Sharps, but I'm hopeful of getting some feedback, seeing what readers at the BBC had to make of its fractured style. The good news is I've got an idea for a feature that stems from the same odd portal in my brain. Now it just needs to be nurtured.
Most of the things I write are commissions, not speculative. I'll be invited to pitch for a novel or an audio drama or other opportunity. I've got my bread and butter jobs, things that tick over by themselves [with a little careful nurturing]. It's not often I've got the time, cashflow or creative head-space to step outside my normal work and write something purely speculative. Plus I tend to need the motivation of a deadline to overcome initial inertia.
THE WOMAN WHO SCREAMED BUTTERFLIES [TWWSB hereafter] came about because of the BBC opportunity called Sharps. Submit a 30-minute original drama about 'the nation's health' and you were in with a chance of a week-long workshop, all expenses paid and even a little cash for your time and trouble. Deadline was only about a month, but if you can't create a 30-minute original script in that time you shouldn't be pursuing a TV writing career.Can't remember where I got the title for TWWSB. I know it was some time ago. I did what I always do with strange words, odd phrases and possible titles: write them on a post-it note and stick that on the wall. You never know when they might come in handy. So it proved with TWWSB. When I heard about Sharps, I pondered what sort of story to tell. One thing was clear: the BBC didn't want any literal, precinct-based medical dramas. Cool.
My best writing tends to arise when I'm developing a story for its own sake, rather than second-guessing what others want. Every writer is unique, so the sooner you embrace your own unique voice, tell the stories only you can tell, the better. I decided my Sharps entry would be fly in the face of expectation. Not that I was trying to shock, but simply that I wanted to create a story that was special, unique. [Hmm, is that hubris I smell?]
I read somewhere that the purest kind of creativity happens in short bursts. You engage the unfiltered side of your brain, let loose with whatever lunacy bursts forth. You can always worry about organising it into act structures and turning points later. So I employ a splurge method when developing a new spec script. I write single sentences and phrases, one after another, whatever comes to mind. Fast as I can, just let inspiration flow.
Not everything that hits the page is worth keeping. More often than not, it'll be in the wrong order. Bits of backstory will pop out in the middle that have no placed in the finished plotline - they might inform the narrative, but never need be mentioned. But from this one or two page splurge a story will emerge, wild and umkempt, a tumble of words and images.
After that I step away from the story. Give it time to think about what it's done. Let the subconscious and the other, more organised side of my brain take hold of the tale, mould and shape it. When I'm ready to engage the story once more, it's time to find what works and what can be discarded. What needs further development and what stands up on its own. DANNY'S TOYS went through this process, and it's proved one of my best-read scripts to date.
TWWSB is another beneficiary of this scattershot methodology. I've no idea if the script will ever get any further than the printed page, but I'm proud of the results. It didn't make the cut for Sharps, but I'm hopeful of getting some feedback, seeing what readers at the BBC had to make of its fractured style. The good news is I've got an idea for a feature that stems from the same odd portal in my brain. Now it just needs to be nurtured.
Friday, September 05, 2008
BBC power shift: radical reshape or a new layer?
Front page lead on the new issue of Broadcast trumpets BBC plans to give network commissioning power to executives outside London. At least five new commissioners will be recruited across Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, with responsibility for ensuring what the Beeb spends in these nations matches their UK population proportion. The Borg-like Pacific Quay HQ in Glasgow will be home for at least three of these commissioning executives.
The Broadcast piece also takes about BBC Scotland pumping by its spending on original network content from £31 million to £75 million by 2016. And there's talk of local soap River City going national [but no mention of the upheavals reportedly happening at Dumbarton right now]. All this sounds great, right? More money and more power for the nations, finally a move to devolve commissioning power beyond the M25. Not before time, some might say.
But let's look at the fine print. It seems national headquarters will have the final say on commissions - on paper. In practice all decisions will have to be backed by a genre commissioners based in - you guessed it - London. And final approval actually falls to individual channel controllers. That's akin to saying a film director has final cut so long as everyone above her and him likes it. Radical reshape? Perhaps, but not too radical.
The hope for creatives and indies in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland is these new executives will act as advocates for talent beyond the border of England. The danger is the new executives could become another layer of management, another filter that must be passed through before any project can get to someone with the power to greenlight it. As always in these things, time will tell.
The Broadcast piece also takes about BBC Scotland pumping by its spending on original network content from £31 million to £75 million by 2016. And there's talk of local soap River City going national [but no mention of the upheavals reportedly happening at Dumbarton right now]. All this sounds great, right? More money and more power for the nations, finally a move to devolve commissioning power beyond the M25. Not before time, some might say.
But let's look at the fine print. It seems national headquarters will have the final say on commissions - on paper. In practice all decisions will have to be backed by a genre commissioners based in - you guessed it - London. And final approval actually falls to individual channel controllers. That's akin to saying a film director has final cut so long as everyone above her and him likes it. Radical reshape? Perhaps, but not too radical.
The hope for creatives and indies in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland is these new executives will act as advocates for talent beyond the border of England. The danger is the new executives could become another layer of management, another filter that must be passed through before any project can get to someone with the power to greenlight it. As always in these things, time will tell.
A moment for the history books
The last two weeks have seen the Democrats and Republicans formally nominate their candidates for the US presidential elections being held in November. Obama didn't get as big a bounce from the Dems' con as expected, thanks to McCain's headline grabbing choice of vice-presidential candidate. Still, this flub from one news anchor probably didn't help Barack's cause.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Giving it some attitude
Been rewriting the first ten pages of my WWII home front drama for the Red Planet Prize. Realised I wasn't making enough out of the massive turning point that had been happening on page 7. For the protagonist in this pilot episode it's the moment his world starts coming apart, yet my previous drafts underplayed the significance of that. Of course, pumping up the drama meant a total rewrite, pulling some scenes forward, throwing others out, etc.
But once I'd done that, several other things became obvious. A character who'd only been mentioned in passing suddenly became a much bigger, more significant presence. Several scenes were flabby placeholders, with characters appearing merely to mention plot points. Those got ripped out or rewritten. Does every character in a scene need to be there? If not, take them out. When you've only got ten pages to impress, every line's crucial - make 'em count.
Most importantly, I hadn't delved deep enough beneath the skin of how characters related to one another. My previous draft had a son bump into his father, exchange some pleasantries and hand him some cash from another, unseen character. Lame. Now the son comes home and there's immediate, mutual hostility with the father. Much more compelling, without going over the top. Why? Because the characters have got attitude and that brings conflict.
If all this sounds obvious, well, it is. You can sit in all the classes and workshops and seminars you like. You can read all the screenwriting books in the world. You can be told these things over and over and over. But sometimes you need to recognise the weaknesses in your own writing for yourself. Feedback is brilliant for forcing you to face flaws you hadn't spotted [or hoped others wouldn't notice]. But self-awareness is even better for honing your voice.
For example, I'm changing the way I describe characters. In the past I'd call a character portly or pretty and leave it at that. What does portly tell the reader about that character? The size of their waistline, perhaps a hint at lifestyle choices - too much food, not enough exercise. Pretty? They're good to look at, and that may influence how the world responds to them. But what does it tell you about the character's take on the world?
So in my WWII script, sixtenn-year-old Isabella has gone from being pretty to headstrong. In one word she's acquired an attitude, a belief that she knows best, that she won't listen to reason - that she could be headed for trouble. I've decided to leave the casting to those who do it for a living, I'm more interested in Isabella's character than her looks. Knowing that makes it much easier to write her dialogue, find the way she acts and reacts.
There may sound like the bleeding obvious to you, but for me it's like finding a new tool in my writer's kit or a tenner in the pocket of some clothes you haven't worn lately. Brightens up your day. Right, I'm off to give it some attitude. Onwards.
But once I'd done that, several other things became obvious. A character who'd only been mentioned in passing suddenly became a much bigger, more significant presence. Several scenes were flabby placeholders, with characters appearing merely to mention plot points. Those got ripped out or rewritten. Does every character in a scene need to be there? If not, take them out. When you've only got ten pages to impress, every line's crucial - make 'em count.
Most importantly, I hadn't delved deep enough beneath the skin of how characters related to one another. My previous draft had a son bump into his father, exchange some pleasantries and hand him some cash from another, unseen character. Lame. Now the son comes home and there's immediate, mutual hostility with the father. Much more compelling, without going over the top. Why? Because the characters have got attitude and that brings conflict.
If all this sounds obvious, well, it is. You can sit in all the classes and workshops and seminars you like. You can read all the screenwriting books in the world. You can be told these things over and over and over. But sometimes you need to recognise the weaknesses in your own writing for yourself. Feedback is brilliant for forcing you to face flaws you hadn't spotted [or hoped others wouldn't notice]. But self-awareness is even better for honing your voice.
For example, I'm changing the way I describe characters. In the past I'd call a character portly or pretty and leave it at that. What does portly tell the reader about that character? The size of their waistline, perhaps a hint at lifestyle choices - too much food, not enough exercise. Pretty? They're good to look at, and that may influence how the world responds to them. But what does it tell you about the character's take on the world?
So in my WWII script, sixtenn-year-old Isabella has gone from being pretty to headstrong. In one word she's acquired an attitude, a belief that she knows best, that she won't listen to reason - that she could be headed for trouble. I've decided to leave the casting to those who do it for a living, I'm more interested in Isabella's character than her looks. Knowing that makes it much easier to write her dialogue, find the way she acts and reacts.
There may sound like the bleeding obvious to you, but for me it's like finding a new tool in my writer's kit or a tenner in the pocket of some clothes you haven't worn lately. Brightens up your day. Right, I'm off to give it some attitude. Onwards.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
In a world where Extreme Fishing is a hit
Sad news yesterday: that bloke whose voice you know from so many movie trailers has died. What to know what he looked like in person? Don was his name, and he's the first man into the back of the limo in this old favourite from YouTube:
In other news, Extreme Fishing with Robson Green has been a surprise ratings hit for Five here in the UK. What other past-times [sorry, I'm not buying fishing as an actual sport] could be given a similar goosing for TV purposes? Pimp My Macramé with Amanda Burton, perhaps? Celebrity Mah Jong with Ken Stott? Tap Dancing At 10,000 Feet featuring Fern Britton? Cock Fighting with Russell Brand? Smack My Cross-Stitch Up, with Charlie Boorman?
More suggestions welcome in the comments section. A No-Prize for the best suggestion!
In other news, Extreme Fishing with Robson Green has been a surprise ratings hit for Five here in the UK. What other past-times [sorry, I'm not buying fishing as an actual sport] could be given a similar goosing for TV purposes? Pimp My Macramé with Amanda Burton, perhaps? Celebrity Mah Jong with Ken Stott? Tap Dancing At 10,000 Feet featuring Fern Britton? Cock Fighting with Russell Brand? Smack My Cross-Stitch Up, with Charlie Boorman?
More suggestions welcome in the comments section. A No-Prize for the best suggestion!
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
That seemed like a long month, didn't it>
Spent much of August writing the first draft of a new project. Contractual obligations forbid me from giving away too many details, but I'll tell you what little I can. My working title includes the word 'Atrocity', so you know in advance the story will be a laff riot. No, of course it won't. It's another tragic tale that ends badly for lots and lots of characters. Another bittersweet bit of storytelling, full of death and pain and suffering. Hurrah.
I've been doing other things at the same time, but this project swallowed the bulk of August - hence the lack of blogging lately. Happily, I've been doing some paying work the last month or three so my financial situation is not quite so parlous as it has been. But I still need to earn a few quid now it's September. Birthday season looms, closely followed by the financial black hole that is Christmas. For now, I'm not eyeballs deep in overdraft.
So what would I like to achieve during September? There's my Red Planet Prize entry to polish and submit, including the all-important single page outline. If honing the first ten pages of a script until they shine is challenging , crafting the perfect pitch doc can really bake your noodle. You want it to reflect the concept you're hawking - not just content, but also in tone. Thriller pitch docs should be thrilling, comedies funny, etc.
I want to write my first feature and am trying to set aside a goodly part of this month to achieve that in time. It's for the RISE Summer Challenge [although summer turned into another damp squib of rain and showers]. Suspect I'm being too ambitious by not giving myself enough time to do the best job possible, but that's no excuse for not trying. Even if my efforts miss the deadline, better to have a rough first draft for future rewriting.
There's another opening I'm pursuing, and several spec script ideas I'm nurturing. The rest of September goes to paying gigs and their pursuit. Need to develop more story of the day ideas for Doctors. Got a meeting down in That Fancy London later this month about a project for which I pitched back in January [freelancers play the long game by necessity]. Need to tweak a submission for a new novel, and pitch more Phantom comic script ideas.
That'll be September largely consumed. Of course, there'll be other bits and bobs along the way. I can expect plenty of notes on the big August project leading to the second draft. If the London meeting goes well, that'll no doubt require a lightning fast response from me. The same applies to sundry other opportunities I've been pursuing. Most never bear fruit, but you have to be ready in case they do. Deft and swift must the freelancer be.
After all that there's three months left of 2008. Been a while since I've written a novel, so that itch will be in need of scratching soon. My next novel will be my 20th, and I'd like it to be something special. Want to rewrite the script I developed for the BBC writersroom Sharps scheme. There's a lovely yet macabre story buried beneath some flubby, mannered writing - so that needs sorting. And my perpetually delayed radio drama efforts to revive.
Gonna be a busy few months. Onwards!
I've been doing other things at the same time, but this project swallowed the bulk of August - hence the lack of blogging lately. Happily, I've been doing some paying work the last month or three so my financial situation is not quite so parlous as it has been. But I still need to earn a few quid now it's September. Birthday season looms, closely followed by the financial black hole that is Christmas. For now, I'm not eyeballs deep in overdraft.
So what would I like to achieve during September? There's my Red Planet Prize entry to polish and submit, including the all-important single page outline. If honing the first ten pages of a script until they shine is challenging , crafting the perfect pitch doc can really bake your noodle. You want it to reflect the concept you're hawking - not just content, but also in tone. Thriller pitch docs should be thrilling, comedies funny, etc.
I want to write my first feature and am trying to set aside a goodly part of this month to achieve that in time. It's for the RISE Summer Challenge [although summer turned into another damp squib of rain and showers]. Suspect I'm being too ambitious by not giving myself enough time to do the best job possible, but that's no excuse for not trying. Even if my efforts miss the deadline, better to have a rough first draft for future rewriting.
There's another opening I'm pursuing, and several spec script ideas I'm nurturing. The rest of September goes to paying gigs and their pursuit. Need to develop more story of the day ideas for Doctors. Got a meeting down in That Fancy London later this month about a project for which I pitched back in January [freelancers play the long game by necessity]. Need to tweak a submission for a new novel, and pitch more Phantom comic script ideas.
That'll be September largely consumed. Of course, there'll be other bits and bobs along the way. I can expect plenty of notes on the big August project leading to the second draft. If the London meeting goes well, that'll no doubt require a lightning fast response from me. The same applies to sundry other opportunities I've been pursuing. Most never bear fruit, but you have to be ready in case they do. Deft and swift must the freelancer be.
After all that there's three months left of 2008. Been a while since I've written a novel, so that itch will be in need of scratching soon. My next novel will be my 20th, and I'd like it to be something special. Want to rewrite the script I developed for the BBC writersroom Sharps scheme. There's a lovely yet macabre story buried beneath some flubby, mannered writing - so that needs sorting. And my perpetually delayed radio drama efforts to revive.
Gonna be a busy few months. Onwards!
Monday, September 01, 2008
THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD paperback in 2009
I'm overjoyed to announce that THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD will be reprinted in a new paperback edition early next year. My monumental history of iconic British comic 2000 AD was first published as a hardcover last summer to glowing reviews, the culmination of exhaustive research, more than a hundred exclusive interviews and years of writing. The £35 cover price meant TPO was never going to be a bestseller, but the mighty tome is a something of an evergreen.
Steady reorders mean Rebellion is down to its last handful of hardback copies. Once those first editions go, the book will be switched to paperback. The new edition is due out in February 2009, with a cover price of £25. I've already been through the text correcting minor errors that crept into the first printing. No idea if the new edition will also get a new cover - probably not. But it's a joy to know the book is staying in print.
Steady reorders mean Rebellion is down to its last handful of hardback copies. Once those first editions go, the book will be switched to paperback. The new edition is due out in February 2009, with a cover price of £25. I've already been through the text correcting minor errors that crept into the first printing. No idea if the new edition will also get a new cover - probably not. But it's a joy to know the book is staying in print.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)