Thursday, February 26, 2009
Go read The Plattitude
Writers make up stories full of drama and tears and laughter. But real life's got us trumped every time. Go visit The Plattitude and read about real drama, tears and laughter. Spread the word.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Get your wallets out, it's for a good cause
Every year my wife enters Race For Life, a charity event staged at numerous round Britain where woman run five kilometres [about three miles] to raise money for Cancer Research UK. In my wife's case, that means running up, around and over Arthur's Seat, a very imposing volcanic hill in the middle of Edinburgh. It's not quite the equivalent of jogging up the north face of the Eiger, but it's close. Utterly exhausting and well worth sponsoring.
So, here's where you can pitch in. If you've ever read anything that was useful, or amusing, or [grud help us] inspirational on this blog - now's your chance to pay a little something back. Go to my wife's Race For Life page and sponsor her for a few quid. Minimum donation is £2, so there's no excuse for not chipping in. Cripes, the Sunday Times cost £2 now and that's just for some inky bits of dead tree that clutter up your house.
Go on, you know you want to. £2 isn't going to break the bank, even in the current financial climate. If you're feeling generous, throw in a fiver. Or a twenty. Go mental and put some more in if you wish, but even £2 makes a difference. She's halfway to raising her target of £400 - let's get her the rest of the way. Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on. Go on! Make sure to mention Vicious Imagery in the comments section while you're there.
So, here's where you can pitch in. If you've ever read anything that was useful, or amusing, or [grud help us] inspirational on this blog - now's your chance to pay a little something back. Go to my wife's Race For Life page and sponsor her for a few quid. Minimum donation is £2, so there's no excuse for not chipping in. Cripes, the Sunday Times cost £2 now and that's just for some inky bits of dead tree that clutter up your house.
Go on, you know you want to. £2 isn't going to break the bank, even in the current financial climate. If you're feeling generous, throw in a fiver. Or a twenty. Go mental and put some more in if you wish, but even £2 makes a difference. She's halfway to raising her target of £400 - let's get her the rest of the way. Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on. Go on! Make sure to mention Vicious Imagery in the comments section while you're there.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
KIll your babies kill your babies kill your babies*
When stress is getting in the way of creativity, I like to imagine how Daleks would say familiar adages. [Hey, it takes all kinds, okay? Sheesh.] For example, make hay while the sun is shining is an invocation to enjoy yourself when life is good. Turned to Dalek dialogue, this would probable be 'Terran sun is shining. Make hay! Make hay!!!' Another example: 'Forest. Trees. My vision is impaired!' And that's how I was feeling earlier this week.
Couldn't see the wood for the trees as deadlines piled up upon each other, one after another, each more urgent than the last. So I did what any daft freelancer would do: something else. Knowing I couldn't resolve any of those problems in one day, I opted to tackle a project I've been ignoring for five months. No matter that it had no deadline attached, wasn't urgent and nobody would thank me [let alone pay me] for doing this. It was time.
Last summer I wrote a 30-minute script called The Woman Who Screamed Butterflies. It was created for the BBC Sharps initiative, an open call for half hour TV dramas about 'the nation's health'. My script wasn't get shortlisted but I didn't care - I knew there was something special about this story. It chimed with me. The BBC writersroom did let me know TWWSB had gotten a full read and even sent some feedback, identifying two key script issues.
First, the major antagonist was a rather one-dimensional, cartoon villain - which I couldn't deny. Second, the highly visual nature of the script made it feel more like an extended short film than a TV drama. Bang on again. In fact, there's two issues in that second piece of feedback - length and chosen medium. The draft I submitted was 30 pages long because that's what they required. And while short films can be screened on TV, they're no TV dramas.
Think I managed three drafts before the Sharps submission deadline. I completed another draft soon afterwards, just for my own satisfaction, and then let it lay fallow for a while. Lucy at Bang2Write got me thinking about TWWSB again with a blog post about it making a big impression on her. So I did another draft, before giving it to a writer-director. He gave some subtle, brilliant notes and underlined what the BBC had said.
But I didn't act on those notes for five months. Other things became far more urgent, and I needed to get some distance from the project. Let the notes settle, give myself time to find my own solutions. Great notes are great, but it's always tempting to simply implement them immediately and represent the script the next day. I tend to get better results if I give myself time to realise the best response, to find my own response to feedback.
Five months on and facing a plethora of ravening deadline beasties, I decided it was time to pull TWWSB out and tackle the long-delayed rewrite. Lucy kindly re-read the September draft and offered a few thoughts. Then it was time to dig in. I nipped and tucked my way through the first half, winnowing out a few pages en route. The second half offered all the challenges, with far too much schlepping back and forth slowing down the endgame.
I also had my title character do something stupid and illogical at the midpoint for the convenience of my plot. This is always a mistake, one of which I've been guilty in the past. So I had to find another way forward before collapsing the ending. Suddenly pages were falling away, as the script tumbled from 29 pages to 22 in an afternoon. Last but not least, I had to kill a few babies. Every draft had a short sequence with a Polish kitchen girl.
It was a lovely run of scenes, foreshadowing what was to come later in the script. But it added nothing to the plot and said nothing about the core characters that wasn't evident later. Much as I didn't want to, those pages had to go. I was proven correct when I didn't even have to tweak the transition created by ripping out the sequence. The script simply joined itself back together, like the sea smoothing itself out after swallowing a stone.
End result of all this rewriting, hacking and slashing? My half hour TV drama is now a 19-page short film script. Next week it goes back to the writer-director for another read, to see what he thinks of this new version. Will it ever get made? Probably not, if I'm honest. There are millions of scripts in the world and no money to be made from short films. But it's a script I love, that I'm proud of and it'll always be dear to me. And that's enough.
*Sung to the tune of Hang the DJ by the Smiths.
Couldn't see the wood for the trees as deadlines piled up upon each other, one after another, each more urgent than the last. So I did what any daft freelancer would do: something else. Knowing I couldn't resolve any of those problems in one day, I opted to tackle a project I've been ignoring for five months. No matter that it had no deadline attached, wasn't urgent and nobody would thank me [let alone pay me] for doing this. It was time.
Last summer I wrote a 30-minute script called The Woman Who Screamed Butterflies. It was created for the BBC Sharps initiative, an open call for half hour TV dramas about 'the nation's health'. My script wasn't get shortlisted but I didn't care - I knew there was something special about this story. It chimed with me. The BBC writersroom did let me know TWWSB had gotten a full read and even sent some feedback, identifying two key script issues.
First, the major antagonist was a rather one-dimensional, cartoon villain - which I couldn't deny. Second, the highly visual nature of the script made it feel more like an extended short film than a TV drama. Bang on again. In fact, there's two issues in that second piece of feedback - length and chosen medium. The draft I submitted was 30 pages long because that's what they required. And while short films can be screened on TV, they're no TV dramas.
Think I managed three drafts before the Sharps submission deadline. I completed another draft soon afterwards, just for my own satisfaction, and then let it lay fallow for a while. Lucy at Bang2Write got me thinking about TWWSB again with a blog post about it making a big impression on her. So I did another draft, before giving it to a writer-director. He gave some subtle, brilliant notes and underlined what the BBC had said.
But I didn't act on those notes for five months. Other things became far more urgent, and I needed to get some distance from the project. Let the notes settle, give myself time to find my own solutions. Great notes are great, but it's always tempting to simply implement them immediately and represent the script the next day. I tend to get better results if I give myself time to realise the best response, to find my own response to feedback.
Five months on and facing a plethora of ravening deadline beasties, I decided it was time to pull TWWSB out and tackle the long-delayed rewrite. Lucy kindly re-read the September draft and offered a few thoughts. Then it was time to dig in. I nipped and tucked my way through the first half, winnowing out a few pages en route. The second half offered all the challenges, with far too much schlepping back and forth slowing down the endgame.
I also had my title character do something stupid and illogical at the midpoint for the convenience of my plot. This is always a mistake, one of which I've been guilty in the past. So I had to find another way forward before collapsing the ending. Suddenly pages were falling away, as the script tumbled from 29 pages to 22 in an afternoon. Last but not least, I had to kill a few babies. Every draft had a short sequence with a Polish kitchen girl.
It was a lovely run of scenes, foreshadowing what was to come later in the script. But it added nothing to the plot and said nothing about the core characters that wasn't evident later. Much as I didn't want to, those pages had to go. I was proven correct when I didn't even have to tweak the transition created by ripping out the sequence. The script simply joined itself back together, like the sea smoothing itself out after swallowing a stone.
End result of all this rewriting, hacking and slashing? My half hour TV drama is now a 19-page short film script. Next week it goes back to the writer-director for another read, to see what he thinks of this new version. Will it ever get made? Probably not, if I'm honest. There are millions of scripts in the world and no money to be made from short films. But it's a script I love, that I'm proud of and it'll always be dear to me. And that's enough.
*Sung to the tune of Hang the DJ by the Smiths.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
2000 AD event at London Megastore for TPO
Next month there's a massive 2000 AD event at London's Forbidden Planet Megastore to celebrate the paperback edition of THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD. Talented writers, artists and editors will be on hand to sign, sketch and mingle - and I'll be there too. Some advance details appear below, but you can expect me to pimp this event several more times before March 21st. Don't say you weren't warned, Earthlets! [Been a while since I typed that word.]2000FP - Thrill Power Overload!
Saturday 21 March, 2009 • 1:00PM - 2:30PM
Forbidden Planet London Megastore, 179 Shaftesbury Avenue, London, WC2H 8JR
To promote the release of THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD we’ve gathered together writers and artists from a host of 2000AD titles – together with Matt Smith, the magazine’s editor, they will be available to sign, sketch and chat! On Saturday 21st March we’ll have the absolute best in British comics in store: Dan Abnett • David Bishop • Simon Davis • Rufus Dayglo • Al Ewing • Brett Ewins • Henry Flint • Frazer Irving • Robbie Morrison • Tony Lee • Matt Smith • Simon Spurrier
This is 2000FP, the second of our free-form signings – no tables, no queues. With an array of fantastic Rebellion Publishing titles on hand, this event blows away the barriers and gives readers and fans a change to really find out what goes on in 2000AD! Thrill Power Overload will be available to buy on the day, but if you can't make it you can click here to order your signed copy. [Orders must be placed before 12pm on March 20.]
The occasional joy of royalties
As a freelance writer, I've done an awful lot of jobs that offered no great prospects. Novels that paid a flat fee and nothing more, regardless of how many copies they sold, features and articles that brought a single payment, yet keep getting reprinted. I went in eyes wide open, it was my choice to sign up. But the dream is always to get a commission that pays good money now [not easy, especially in these bereft times] and the hope of further funds.
Even if you get a royalty deal, there's no guarantee your project will sell enough to clear its advance. I spent so much time and money researching a particular non-fiction tome, I probably lost money on it [curse you, Michael Caine!]. Then again, I suspect the publisher took a bath on that book too, so the pain get shared round. But sometimes a job comes good and you get a nice little trickle of money back from it. That's the joy of royalties.
In the last week I've have two such bursts of joy. Turns out six of my Big Finish audio dramas have now sold enough to generate royalties. Nothing huge, but a nice wee bonus. And the hardback edition of my magnificent octopus about the history of 2000 AD has effectively sold out, also bringing a royalty payment. THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD has just been published in paperback, meaning every copy sold now on will generate future royalties. Nice.
Even if you get a royalty deal, there's no guarantee your project will sell enough to clear its advance. I spent so much time and money researching a particular non-fiction tome, I probably lost money on it [curse you, Michael Caine!]. Then again, I suspect the publisher took a bath on that book too, so the pain get shared round. But sometimes a job comes good and you get a nice little trickle of money back from it. That's the joy of royalties.
In the last week I've have two such bursts of joy. Turns out six of my Big Finish audio dramas have now sold enough to generate royalties. Nothing huge, but a nice wee bonus. And the hardback edition of my magnificent octopus about the history of 2000 AD has effectively sold out, also bringing a royalty payment. THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD has just been published in paperback, meaning every copy sold now on will generate future royalties. Nice.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Enacting the F**k the Future manifesto
For those who weren't here yesterday, I gave myself a good scolding for waiting around in the hope of receiving an engraved invitation to become a TV drama writer:
Bit lacking in explicit political ideology for a real manifesto, but life's too short to sit round in coffee houses discussing whether this is a post-something-or-other approach. There's writing to be done and now's the time to do it. So, having kicked myself up the arse, I did some writing yesterday. Wrote and submitted three pitches to a script editor. One's new, one improves an old idea and the other's a flyer.
Today I'm going to get my episode for the Lighthouse team-writing TV drama project rolling forwards again. Need to dump the deadwood from all previous iterations and start from scratch. Tell the story, not get hung up on mythology and rules and all that extraneous shit. Introduce characters with clear, bold strokes. Make the reader, the audience care about the characters. Make people want to know what happens next. Simple, but effective.
Seems my F**k the Future rant struck a chord with Kay Reindl at Seriocity. She's written some groovy-arsed shows and has some interesting things to say about genre shows, mythology and the state of US TV drama. Go check it out.
Here's a belated resolution for 2009: no more excuses, no more waiting around. I don't want to hear myself talking about what I wish I was writing, what I'm planning to write in the future. Fuck the future. If you want to be a TV writer, you make something happen by bloody writing. That's not rocket science, it's common sense - but you need to embrace that reality and act upon it.
Don't be content to sit on the subs' bench, waiting for somebody - a script editor, a publisher, an agent, a producer or a competition - to invite you into the game. You want to play? Get your boots on, get your freak on and get writing.
Bit lacking in explicit political ideology for a real manifesto, but life's too short to sit round in coffee houses discussing whether this is a post-something-or-other approach. There's writing to be done and now's the time to do it. So, having kicked myself up the arse, I did some writing yesterday. Wrote and submitted three pitches to a script editor. One's new, one improves an old idea and the other's a flyer.
Today I'm going to get my episode for the Lighthouse team-writing TV drama project rolling forwards again. Need to dump the deadwood from all previous iterations and start from scratch. Tell the story, not get hung up on mythology and rules and all that extraneous shit. Introduce characters with clear, bold strokes. Make the reader, the audience care about the characters. Make people want to know what happens next. Simple, but effective.
Seems my F**k the Future rant struck a chord with Kay Reindl at Seriocity. She's written some groovy-arsed shows and has some interesting things to say about genre shows, mythology and the state of US TV drama. Go check it out.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
My dreams are telling me things
Every now and then my subconscious decides to give me a punt up the posterior. Most dreams vanish within moments of waking, lost to the strange places in the darkness, forever forgotten. But sometimes the central message lingers, like a big WAKE UP sign, telling me to act. For example, this morning I woke with the words '**** that tale of woe' stuck in my head.
Since 2009 started I've been guilty of sitting back and waiting for things to happen. Back in November my script Families At War was one of approximately 70 selected for the second round of the Red Planet Prize, from around 1000 entries. Apparently a shortlist of finalists has been chosen and an announcement of the winner is due soon. But I shouldn't even be thinking about that - I should be busy writing my next project, not looking backwards.
It's a similar situation at the BBC daytime medical drama series Doctors, where I've got a pair of ideas in a pile, waiting to be read. Instead of waiting to hear back about these, I should have been working with my lovely script editor to develop two more and then another two, and so on. Things like the Red Planet Prize and decisions made by producers are out of my hands - I should concentrate my energies on outcomes I can directly influence.
Went to an event called Cupid's Ball in Edinburgh last night, a LGBT shindig at the Assembly Rooms with a disco downstairs and a ceilidh upstairs. A friend asked how my efforts to get a TV drama commission were coming along and I heard myself trotting out what I always say, how so much of it involves waiting, playing the long game and paying your dues. But I don't have to settle for that, shouldn't depend on others to advance my career.
So here's a belated resolution for 2009: no more excuses, no more waiting around. I don't want to hear myself talking about what I wish I was writing, what I'm planning to write in the future. Fuck the future. If you want to be a TV writer, you make something happen by bloody writing. That's not rocket science, it's common sense - but you need to embrace that reality and act up it.
Don't be content to sit on the subs' bench, waiting for somebody - a script editor, a publisher, an agent, a producer or a competition - to invite you into the game. You want to play? Get your boots on, get your freak on and get writing.
Since 2009 started I've been guilty of sitting back and waiting for things to happen. Back in November my script Families At War was one of approximately 70 selected for the second round of the Red Planet Prize, from around 1000 entries. Apparently a shortlist of finalists has been chosen and an announcement of the winner is due soon. But I shouldn't even be thinking about that - I should be busy writing my next project, not looking backwards.
It's a similar situation at the BBC daytime medical drama series Doctors, where I've got a pair of ideas in a pile, waiting to be read. Instead of waiting to hear back about these, I should have been working with my lovely script editor to develop two more and then another two, and so on. Things like the Red Planet Prize and decisions made by producers are out of my hands - I should concentrate my energies on outcomes I can directly influence.
Went to an event called Cupid's Ball in Edinburgh last night, a LGBT shindig at the Assembly Rooms with a disco downstairs and a ceilidh upstairs. A friend asked how my efforts to get a TV drama commission were coming along and I heard myself trotting out what I always say, how so much of it involves waiting, playing the long game and paying your dues. But I don't have to settle for that, shouldn't depend on others to advance my career.
So here's a belated resolution for 2009: no more excuses, no more waiting around. I don't want to hear myself talking about what I wish I was writing, what I'm planning to write in the future. Fuck the future. If you want to be a TV writer, you make something happen by bloody writing. That's not rocket science, it's common sense - but you need to embrace that reality and act up it.
Don't be content to sit on the subs' bench, waiting for somebody - a script editor, a publisher, an agent, a producer or a competition - to invite you into the game. You want to play? Get your boots on, get your freak on and get writing.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
There's an argument in my brain
Sometimes you find yourself with so many deadlines, it becomes difficult to know which to tackle first. The obvious is also the most simple: write the project that's most urgent. But even that can be a mistake. For example, we had a blinding session on the Lighthouse team-writing TV drama workshop last Wednesday and Thursday. But it threw up all sorts of questions and conundrums we hadn't resolved, so they all need collective creative decisions.
Only then can we rework our beat sheets and scene by scene documents, before diving into the first draft of our respective episodes. Some will change in subtle ways, others require wholesale rewrites. Sad to say, mine is the latter. The course tutors kindly gave us an extra week on our first draft deadline - but it's still going to take plenty of time over the next month to nail this sucker done. Doesn't need be perfect, just needs to be done.
So there's that. Got a commission I've been avoiding that requires several hard days of creative work. Not happy with my plot, it's all too sketchy, but can't seem to fix on what's the biggest problem. Result: no progress, and that's not good enough. Another porject that's been puttering along for a year is suddenly coming on stream, requiring urgent efforts. And I need to develop some fresh ideas for Doctors, having been remiss there for months.
All these things are fighting for my attention, clamouring for a piece of creative head-space. I like to compartmentalise, I'm not good at nudging along five projects at once. I know a milion-seller author who writes several thousand words of novel in the morning and comic books in the afternoon. Wish I could swap my heads over like that, Worzel Gummidge style. Closest I'm getting today is wanting a nice cup of tea and slice of cake. Hey ho. Onwards!
Only then can we rework our beat sheets and scene by scene documents, before diving into the first draft of our respective episodes. Some will change in subtle ways, others require wholesale rewrites. Sad to say, mine is the latter. The course tutors kindly gave us an extra week on our first draft deadline - but it's still going to take plenty of time over the next month to nail this sucker done. Doesn't need be perfect, just needs to be done.
So there's that. Got a commission I've been avoiding that requires several hard days of creative work. Not happy with my plot, it's all too sketchy, but can't seem to fix on what's the biggest problem. Result: no progress, and that's not good enough. Another porject that's been puttering along for a year is suddenly coming on stream, requiring urgent efforts. And I need to develop some fresh ideas for Doctors, having been remiss there for months.
All these things are fighting for my attention, clamouring for a piece of creative head-space. I like to compartmentalise, I'm not good at nudging along five projects at once. I know a milion-seller author who writes several thousand words of novel in the morning and comic books in the afternoon. Wish I could swap my heads over like that, Worzel Gummidge style. Closest I'm getting today is wanting a nice cup of tea and slice of cake. Hey ho. Onwards!
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Apologies for all the radio silence
Pure mental busy for the last week - writing, rewriting, working at Napier - and tomorrow I'm off to Brighton [weather permitting]. Then four nights in That Fancy London. Should be home late Monday, and might get a chance to blog next Tuesday. Online updates have bee reduced to Facebook blurts and 140 character bursts on Twitter. Busy is good, right? Right?
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