Snowbound in Biggar

Unseasonal blizzards [yes, blizzards] have cut off the town where I live. I was supposed to be at my part-time teaching job today, interviewing applicants for next year's Creative Writing MA cohort and giving a lecture on revenge narrative in Contemporary Hollywood Cinema. Instead I'm trapped in the house, while outside resembles a Stephen King Christmas Carol. Spooky.

10.30am UPDATE: Snow now thicker than ever. Thank Grud I abandoned my attempt to reach Edinburgh by any means necessary. It's like The Day After Tomorrow outside, but without any sign of Dennis Quaid. Come to think of it, I'm meant to be flying south to Heathrow the day after tomorrow for Eastercon. Miracle thaw may be required to make that happen, at this rate.

2.20pm UPDATE: Terrible news about Lanark pupil dying after bus crash in snow, just a few miles from here. Still snowing but temperature's creeping up, and local farmers doing their best to clear roads. No sign of gritters. It's not like the council didn't have several days warning about this. Way to stay on top of things, SLC!

Writers, you are not owed anything

Over on Formspring somebody asked Marvel Comics Executive Editor Tom Brevoort if he thought it was fair artists could simply show editors their pages to get a gig, while writers were expected to get published elsewhere to get noticed. Here's what Brevoort had to say:

Yes, in that nobody is owed work. I can take a glance at somebody's [art] samples and instantly tell whether or not there's any chance I'm going to hire this person ... but when it comes to writing, you need to read a decent chunk of material to find out if a would-be writer has got it. It's an inequity of the different disciplines, but it is what it is.

If you truly want to write comics, or anything else for that matter, you've got to be ready and willing to put the work and effort into it that's necessary in order to get that big break. And that big break may never come, depending on your actual talent - but the best way to increase your odds is by doing the things that you know you need to do.

The guys that get hired are the guys who have not only the talent, but also the drive both to improve and to get their wrok in front of the people who can hire them... I'll shed no tears for would-be writers who are either too lazy or too entitled to get out there and make things happen.

Couldn't agree with Brevoort more, and he's right to say this applies to any kind of writing. There is no magical shortcut that saves you all the hard work required to make your writing better. Canny strategy may get you noticed quicker, but getting from good to great takes time and effort [assuming you already possess some latent talent].

There's a handful of writing competitions that can raise your profile. I was a finalist in the last Red Planet Prize. That got me on the radar of a few people [the finalists are read by some significant industry figures], and helped to get agents reading my work. But it was the writing that got me represented, that got me a trial script at Doctors.

The world is not waiting for your masterpiece. The world doesn't care. You have to make your writing so compelling, so compulsive, so exciting that it makes people care. Nothing happens overnight. So-called overnight successes have been working for years, even decades, to achieve that breakthrough. You want to make a living from writing? Make writing your life. Onwards!

UPDATE: Lots of interesting contributions in the COMMENTS section. Is talent plus effort plus strategy enough? Does writing have to be a calling? How important is having something to say through your writing? Where does storytelling end and preaching begin? Feel free to chip in with your own views...

L'addition s'il vous plait? Not anymore

ITV announced last Friday it's killing The Bill, one of the world's longest-running police procedural TV dramas. The writing's been on the wall for this beloved show. Last year it's episode order got cut in half, from two hours a week to one. ITV also moved The Bill to 9pm, the toughest post-soap slot in the British prime-time schedule, with fairly predictable results.

Ninety people are losing their jobs as a consequence, which sucks in a suck-rich economic climate. It also has a knock-on effect for TV drama scribes. All the freelance writers who contributed to The Bill will now be looking for more work elsewhere, making the marketplace even more competitive. And the culling closes a door for mid-level TV drama writers.

The Bill did not take on new writers. To get a try-out for the show, you needed at least two hours of TV screenwriting credits. But it did enable a few writers to make the jump from 30 minute shows like Doctors and Hollyoaks to make the jump up to 60 minute drama. [TAPS ran a course that specialised in this, with a special focus on The Bill.] Now that pathway's a dead end.

ITV has said it will channel the money saved by killing The Bill into other, short-run drama series. Projects under consideration include a new medical series by Peter Bowker [Occupation, Desperate Romantics] and a new series from Anthony Horowitz [Foyle's War, Collision]. Makes sense, but it's a shame for everyone on The Bill and those who aspired to write for it.

I used to love watching The Bill. At its best the show was compelling, compulsive drama that could sometimes take your breath away. Having a love of police procedurals, it was a show I hoped to write for one day. But I haven't been able to watch it since STV chose to boycott the series as part of its cost-savings campaign/feud with ITV [delete as you think appropriate]. So I'll never know if the 9pm relaunch version was any cop. Such is life. Onwards!

Kiwi advertising campaigns

When stories refuse to be written

It's a strange phenomenon, but sometimes stories refuse to be written. You can have it all plotted and planned, the opening scene is already playing like a movie inside your head. But when the time comes to commit your story is paper or pixels, it refuses to come out. The damn thing develops a mind of its own and your writing grinds to a halt, frustrated, lifeless, or empty.

Bloody annoying, that's what it is. When this happens I tend to think of it as my subconscious sending me messages. [We had a weird relationship, me and my subconscious - a bit like Dexter and his Dark Passenger.] What's it trying to say? You're not ready to write this story yet. You don't know your characters well enough, or the factual basis for your narrative. Maybe you need to do more research. Or maybe it's just a craphouse idea that needs time to simmer.

Forcing a story out when it doesn't want to be written is never pretty. Watching paint dry while being whipped with barbed wire might be more fun. And the results are never much cop. Far better, if you can, to do something else. Write a different story. Make something else up. Do some research, go for a walk, visit a gallery, read a book. But that's not always possible.

Some story documents have to be written, whether or not you [or your subconscious] is ready to write them. Deadlines are deadlines, especially when money or marks or your mortgage is at stake. But there's no shame in admitting a story isn't working. You may not be able to write it as well as you'd like now, but that doesn't mean you can write it down and fix it later.

Sometimes it's the tyranny of perfectionism that's crushing your work. My advice? Get over it. No first draft is perfect, much as I'd like mine to be. The rewrite is where lumps of coal get polished to reveal [hopefully] the diamond within. Sometimes you need to stick that story on a shelf in your brain and come back to it later, give your subconscious time to think.

Stories can be like a good chilli [or curry, if you prefer that]. You cook it one night and it tastes fine. You reheat leftovers the next night and it tastes great, even better. Why? The spices and sauce have had time to seep deeper into the protein, creating a richer flavour. Leaving a story alone to marinade inside your mind can have a similar effect.

For Doctors I've written story of the day ideas out, only to realise they're not there yet. I've got all the ingredients, but haven't figured out the correct proportions to get it just so. Better to come back in a few days [or months] and see what my brain can devise that'll improve on the first attempt. Time makes a wine, and it's the same with some stories. Onwards!

You need an army of minions...

Why Bill Clinton's classier than W...

Genius: too much time on their hands

Farewell, John Hicklenton

This is a re-post from the official 2000AD website forum, where comics fans and professionals are paying tribute to artist John Hicklenton [see the whole thread here], who died from complications due to MS. You'll have to excuse the swearing, but John wouldn't have expected anything less. He was to British comics what Francis Bacon was to British painting...

Fucking sad news. I was lucky enough to know John, and commissioned him to draw for the Meg during the first half of the 90s when he couldn't get arrested on 2000AD. [He had the misfortune to illustrate a Heavy Metal Dredd script I wrote, but work's work.]

I still marvel at the bonkers shit he came up with on the Pandora series, and how he cheerfully informed me most of it was drawn while on copious amounts of drugs - acid or LSD, can't remember which. John was an utterly unique talent.

I also remember the umbrage he took at Megazine letters page diatribes. He replied with a thoughtful, intelligent rebuttal of the more arse-brained correspondence [hmm, arse-brained correspondents - sounds like something John would draw!].

John was a committed believer in causes and fighting the good fight, which it sounds like he did right to the end with MS.

John Hicklenton, rest in peace? Fuck that shit. He's probably setting fire to whereever he is now. Once the blaze goes out, he'll use the charred embers to start drawing again. Good on you, John.

If you've never heard of John, check out the tributes to him flowing on Twitter from Simon Pegg, Neil Gaiman and many more.

Writing a script for the Writers' Academy

The BBC will soon be inviting applications for the 2010 Writers' Academy, a 13-week learning experience that focuses on screenwriting for continuing drama series [CDS]. The academy focuses on four such shows made by the BBC - urban soap EastEnders [30 minutes per episode] and three medical dramas: Doctors [30 mins]; Casualty [50 mins]; and Holby City [60 mins].

At least 500 people apply for the academy, but only eight places are available. About 30 get invited to one-day workshops. From there 16 get interviews, before the final cohort is selected. The chosen eight are paid for their time at the academy, with further funding if you have to relocate. By all accounts, it's a life-changing experience.

So, how do you get to the workshop stage? Write a brilliant script. It's that simple - and that hard. I've applied for the academy twice. For my last attempt in 2008 I submitted FAMILIES AT WAR, my pilot script for a CDS set in WWII Glasgow. I've been told this got me to the last 60, but was too soapy and not bold enough to make the final 30.

[There's a delicious irony at work here. Various drafts of that same script made me a finalist for the Red Planet Prize, helped secure representation with a major London literary agency. FAMILIES AT WAR also got me a trial at Doctors - one of the Academy shows. Much as I'd love to see it produced, some scripts are fated to be calling cards.]

You might think that if you're applying for a scheme that enables people to write for CDS, shouldn't you submit a spec script that demonstrates just how well you can write for CDS? The answer's no. You need to write and submit a cracking script that shows what you alone can do, your distinctive take on the world. Fit for purpose isn't enough, you need to be great.

Scripts are assessed on eight criteria - character, dialogue, visual storytelling, narrative structure and pace, emotional appeal, credible world, distinctive voice, and does it hold your attention. Scripts that do well across all these areas will get the writer noticed. Past credits are largely irrelevant, you've got to produce the goods.

Ten years ago a soundly structured, perfectly laid out and satisfying script might just have been enough. But the recent explosion of screenwriting courses across Britain has created a new phenomenon, something that looks and reads like a script - but has nothing much to say. In some circles it's called the technically accomplished bore.

You want to get into the Writers' Academy? Put heart and passion and feeling into your work. You've got to dig deeper, get below the surface of your characters. You've got to gouge out a little piece of your soul and inject it into your script. If you haven't already started, it's probably too late. 2010 is fast ticking away. Onwards!

Clever video about reversing attitudes...

Going back to the old house

Tomorrow I'm going back to Screen Academy Scotland [now known as Edinburgh Skillset Screen and Media Academy, what a mouthful] to talk about the script development process on Doctors. As always in such circs, impostor syndrome kicks in. I've only had one ep broadcast, doesn't that make me a terrible fraud for claiming to have some great knowledge of the script process?

It would, if that's what I was claiming. Instead I'll simply be talking about my experiences, what I've learned thus far and screening my ep for students from various courses. Two and a half years ago I was one of those students, dreaming about how I might forge a career in TV drama writing. At the time that made me different from many classmates, most aspired to film work.

In the five years since the academy launched its first screenwriting MA, with graduates enjoying a lot of success at film festivals and winning awards for their efforts. But I never had great aspirations as a cinema screenwriter, even while studying screenwriting. I've written short film scripts that have won one prize and been shortlisted for others, yet my heart belongs to TV drama.

I suspect it's because I've always preferred relationships to brief thrills. Like novels, TV drama series allow you to dig into multiple characters, lets you see them develop over weeks, months, even years. A feature film's more like an affair - intense, all consuming and finite. [On that basis, a short film's akin to a one night stand or, done badly, a drunken fumble.]

There are two other imperatives that propelled away writing for film. The first is simple economics - hundreds of hours of TV drama are made every year in the UK. [Radio drama is another medium rich with opportunity, and it's even more receptive to new writers.] Far more screenwriters based in Britain make their living from TV work than can sustain themselves in the film industry.

The second reason is creative control. Right now I'm of no great consequence, a TV drama writer with one broadcast credit, an agent and plenty of aspirations. But those with enough talent, energy, focus, discipline and strategic nous can rise up to create their own series and/or be an executive producer. Then the writer is among the few who control the creative vision of a project.

That's not something that tends to happen in film, unless you're a writer/director. So tomorrow I'll be talking about the baby steps that get you from film school student to writing for a continuing drama TV series. Maybe there'll be one or two students who share my love of TV drama, especially continuing drama. Hopefully what I have to say will be of some use to them. Onwards!

David (The Wire) Simon's new show

My agency listing

Blake Friedmann Literary Agency has now got me listed on its website, courtesy of agent Katie Williams. My list of credits does go on a bit, thanks to a plethora of published novels, more than a dozen audio dramas for Big Finish and sundry other endeavours. Of course, all of that's nothing compared to Katie's other clients. Speaking of which, back to tweaking another Doctors pitch. Onwards!

Honest Posters for Oscar Contenders

Some wags have created new posters for the Best Picture contenders at last weekend's Academy Awards to make them more honest. Three of my favourites from the ten-pack appear above and below, but if you want to see the rest [the posters for Up, The Blind Side and Precious are also excellent - hell, they're all good] go here. Onwards!

Before Mad Men made 60s style hip again...

...there was this groovy video from Suzanne Vega.

Getting an agent

Like a lot of writers, I spent many happy hours leafing through the section about agents in sundry writers' handbooks, yearbooks and directories. I approached agents by phone, post and email, with and without a recommendation from an existing client, on and off over a period of two years. When I did secure representation, I think it was due to three simple but important factors.

First and foremost, my writing had improved. Before that I was getting better, each draft on every script taking me on another step or two. It felt like tiny increments, but that's still progress. Eventually my writing reach some sort of tipping point. No great leap forward, more a steady drip, drip of improvement - and applying what I was learning to my portfolio of scripts.

Secondly, I got a TV drama credit. Agents may be in show business, but it's still a business and you need to show you'll make them money. Being a finalist in most recent Red Planet Prize didn't hurt, demonstrated I had some range and polish to my work. But the BBC commissioned me to write an episode of Doctors was official endorsement that I could be a TV drama screenwriter.

Thirdly, I did my research. On the Creative Writing MA where I teach part-time, my colleague Sam Kelly [an ex-agent] suggests writers at the start of their careers look for young, list-building agents. Often these are former assistant agents who've been recently promoted. When I first contacted my agent she was looking for writers - and swamped with scripts as a result.

How did I know she was looking? Blake Friedmann Literary Agency mentioned it in a press release on the Book2Book daily digest of publishing industry news. Katie doesn't handle books, so that wasn't the obvious place to be researching a potential film and TV agent - but it paid off. Never underestimate the value of research and intelligence gathering in helping your quest.

None of the above is intended as some guaranteed guide to securing representation, it's simply the story of how I got an agent. Concentrating on the three factors I mentioned - make your writing better, get a commission and do your research - certainly won't hurt your chances. But don't expect getting an agent will guarantee you any overnight success.

You have to take responsibility for continuing to improve your writing, for networking and finding out about potential openings, for pursuing opportunities with all your wit, strength and energy when they arise. Having an agent can open doors. What happens next is up to you, how you comport yourself as a professional and the quality of writing you can muster. Onwards!

Genius: YouTube closes down for the night

Best watched full-screen for the complete effect.

Utterly slammed; practising what I preach

It's been a nuking the candle at both ends from orbit kind of fortnight. My 2.5 days a week teaching job has bled sideways, threatening to consume all known time and space. If I'm not in lectures and seminars, I'm preparing them. Plus there's mentoring, marking, second marking, meetings and more. Throw in an hour's drive each way and 12 hours days are all too common.

I'm also involved with a local am-dram workshop. I'm coming off the board in June, but right now we're involved with a refurbishment worth half a million pounds. Even our solicitor says the project's grown arms and legs. Plus I'm directing rehearsals twice a week for a production of Les Liaisons Dangereuses for May. I volunteered for all of this, but it does east time like mad.

As a consequence I've written sod all of my own work lately. Got a Doctors pitch half done and another that needs tweaking, but no time or energy to tackle either. Sigh. Last week I sent my part-time students an arse-kick via email to get them writing more. Guess who needs to practise what they preach? Here's an edited version of my email, let's hope it works on me too...

...what are you waiting for?

You should be writing every day, even if it’s only 500 words a day. Depending how fast you write, that can take as little as 20 minutes. Twenty minutes – that’s nothing. EastEnders and Emmeerdale last longer. Making and drinking a piping hot cup of tea can longer longer. Walking to the pub often takes longer, let alone having a drink while you’re there.

But if you write 500 words a day, by September you’ll have nearly 100,000 words of raw material. Doesn’t have to be perfect, doesn’t have to be great. It’s all about getting something written. [Rewriting is where you get it right.]

Now, this call to action doesn’t apply to everyone. Some people are naturally prolific, brimming with energy, discipline, focus and resolve. Bravo! But some writers act as if they expect others to instill them with those qualities. Sorry, no can do. There will be no engraved invitations telling you to start writing. The world is not waiting for your deathless prose.

If you want to be a writer, talking about writing isn’t enough. You have to produce the goods. And you have to be willing to make sacrifices. Haven’t got time to write? Find the time. Give up watching a soap. Get up half an hour earlier each day. Put down that remote control or games console. See a little less of your friends, or those you love. Use that time to write instead.

How much work you put into developing yourself as a writer will determine how much you get out of this experience. So, I repeat my question...

...what are you waiting for?

Block Runner: Like [Lego} tears in the rain

Blade Runner - Tears in Rain (in LEGO) from Zach Macias on Vimeo.