Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Seeker Lover Keeper: Even Though I'm a Woman
The guy looks like he's wandered from the pages of Criminal by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips - right down to the black eye. Seeker Lover Keeper are Sally Seltmann, Holly Throsby and Sarah Blasko, three singer-songwriters who've teamed up to swap new songs and combine harmonies. Loving the sound of this. Your mileage may vary.
Sade: "Searching for the scent of content..."
British film Absolute Beginners absolutely died on its arse in 1986. It arrived too late to cash in on the hepcat jazz trend, and featured some decidedly dodgy acting. Even so, I kind of love it. Great soundtrack, too. Wish I could find the late, great Smiley Culture's version of So What. Have a groovy Sade song instead...
NSFW: Proof that Doctor Who is a bad-ass O.G.
A clip that proves the Doctor isn't afraid to pop a cap in your ass. In case you're wondering, O.G. stands for Original Gallifreyan. Obviously.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Writing gigs - the visible and the unseen
Not even June and it's unlikely I'll have any more drama on TV this year - one ep of Doctors will probably be my lot for 2011. I guess my five eps of Nine and the Neurons will pop up on CBeebies at some point, be interesting to see them on screen. Anything else won't surface until 2012, due to long lead times required for TV drama.
The nature of a freelance writing career is some work is visible, a lot of it happens behind closed doors and goes unseen. For example, I was on commissioned jobs non-stop from September 2011 to this February. That included my 3rd Doctors ep, 60,000 words for computer game Fate of the World, a script for Fantomen comic, and my five Nina eps.
The unseen writing included five story pitches for a popular CBeebies CGI show; hustling a try-out on a continuing drama series; revising a short film script for a new director; taking part in a Write Foot Forward coaching scheme; teaching postgrad creative writing 2.5 days a week; and devising new story pitches for Doctors.
Aside from the teaching, none of those unseen jobs has brought in a penny so far. Some will, some might, some won't. That cliche about having to speculate to accumulate? It's definitely true freelance writers. You have to keep generating new ideas, new pitches, new contacts, new stories. You have to take responsibility for all of that.
Having an agent opens doors, gets you opportunities that might otherwise never arise - but it's you, your writing, what you do with those opportunities that can determine success or failure. If you want to be a professional writer, writing isn't enough - you have to be professional. You have to make things happen, otherwise nothing does.
The last three months have been a mix of visible and unseen writing. I revised The Complete Inspector Morse for a new edition due out in the autumn. Got a CBeebies pitch shot down, but was already busy developing a new one. [Never wait for rejection to start in on a fresh idea. Better to start while hopeful than while licking wounds.]
The big project for March and April was my new calling card script, THE SPECIALS. It's my sample for the BBC Writers' Academy. The first ten pages were good enough to get me longlisted [along with 156 others], time will tell if the whole script to propel me to the workshops. Am already planning the next draft, based on feedback from elsewhere.
Getting into the academy is a longshot. Even after making the longlist, the odds are still 20-1 against. But I'm busy making arrangements to be ready if the call comes. That means relocating to London for three months in September. Walking away from everything and everyone else in my life for the duration. Total focus, no distractions.
It's a daunting prospect, but I've done it before. I emigrated to the UK with one suticase, knowing only one person in Britain, and with one job prospect. The job didn't happen and the one person ceased to be my girlfriend about 30 seconds after I arrived. Ouch. But I found work and made friends and have prospered as a result.
Moving halfway round the world changed my life, gave me chances and opportunities I would never have had back in New Zealand. By comparison, relocating to London for three months is less terrifying. If it happens, I'm ready, If it doesn't happen this year, I'll be applying again next year. If nothing else, I'm determined. Onwards!
The nature of a freelance writing career is some work is visible, a lot of it happens behind closed doors and goes unseen. For example, I was on commissioned jobs non-stop from September 2011 to this February. That included my 3rd Doctors ep, 60,000 words for computer game Fate of the World, a script for Fantomen comic, and my five Nina eps.
The unseen writing included five story pitches for a popular CBeebies CGI show; hustling a try-out on a continuing drama series; revising a short film script for a new director; taking part in a Write Foot Forward coaching scheme; teaching postgrad creative writing 2.5 days a week; and devising new story pitches for Doctors.
Aside from the teaching, none of those unseen jobs has brought in a penny so far. Some will, some might, some won't. That cliche about having to speculate to accumulate? It's definitely true freelance writers. You have to keep generating new ideas, new pitches, new contacts, new stories. You have to take responsibility for all of that.
Having an agent opens doors, gets you opportunities that might otherwise never arise - but it's you, your writing, what you do with those opportunities that can determine success or failure. If you want to be a professional writer, writing isn't enough - you have to be professional. You have to make things happen, otherwise nothing does.
The last three months have been a mix of visible and unseen writing. I revised The Complete Inspector Morse for a new edition due out in the autumn. Got a CBeebies pitch shot down, but was already busy developing a new one. [Never wait for rejection to start in on a fresh idea. Better to start while hopeful than while licking wounds.]
The big project for March and April was my new calling card script, THE SPECIALS. It's my sample for the BBC Writers' Academy. The first ten pages were good enough to get me longlisted [along with 156 others], time will tell if the whole script to propel me to the workshops. Am already planning the next draft, based on feedback from elsewhere.
Getting into the academy is a longshot. Even after making the longlist, the odds are still 20-1 against. But I'm busy making arrangements to be ready if the call comes. That means relocating to London for three months in September. Walking away from everything and everyone else in my life for the duration. Total focus, no distractions.
It's a daunting prospect, but I've done it before. I emigrated to the UK with one suticase, knowing only one person in Britain, and with one job prospect. The job didn't happen and the one person ceased to be my girlfriend about 30 seconds after I arrived. Ouch. But I found work and made friends and have prospered as a result.
Moving halfway round the world changed my life, gave me chances and opportunities I would never have had back in New Zealand. By comparison, relocating to London for three months is less terrifying. If it happens, I'm ready, If it doesn't happen this year, I'll be applying again next year. If nothing else, I'm determined. Onwards!
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Gil Scott Heron: NYC is Killing Me
The revolution will not be televised - it'll be streaming online. RIP, GSH.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Blog Post #1995: The Year of Living Dreddfully
1995 was quite a year. When it started, I was editing one fortnightly comic [the Judge Dredd Megazine, for teenagers and adults] and prepping to launch another [Judge Dredd: lawman of the Future - you know, for kids]. The Judge Dredd film starring Sylvester Stallone was in post-production, prepping for a global launch that summer.
The movie had the potential to transform Dredd from a cult character [beloved in Britain, parts of the Commonwealth and a few places in the US] into a worldwide sensation. Stallone's career had been on a surge thanks to hits like Cliffhanger and Demolition Man. Director Danny Cannon was a young gun, on the rise. All looked good.
In the offices of 2000AD, the previous editor had been made redundant in November 1994 as part of a company-wide cull. New editorial team John Tomlinson and my old mentor Steve MacManus were publishing a load of less than stellar material left behind, getting the comic into shape for the movie's summer premiere. It was a tricky time.
The Dredd film flopped in America, ranking just below The Goofy Movie for takings that year. It was a big hit in Britain, and did well globally - but the damage was done. The Dredd brand was well and truly sullied, nobody was coming near it again for years. [There's a new Dredd film coming next year, hopefully it can remove the old stink.]
By the end of 1995, I'd been transferred from the peripheral titles to control of the mothership. On December 18 that year, I became editor of 2000AD. This was a dream come true in many ways, the chance to course correct a title I felt had been heading for the rocks for years. A slower car crash than the '95 Dredd film, but still painful.
I leapt in with both boots, dispensing freelancers whose work didn't my vision of the comic with sledgehammer subtlety. My behaviour didn't endear me to lots of people. I was young and full of myself, thought I knew better. Even if I did, I should have treat those freelancers with more care and respect. Sigh. Live and learn.
So 1995 was a transformative year. When it started, anything seemed possible. When it ended, we knew saving 2000AD would have to be a local job. Stallone and the Dredd film hadn't ridden to the comic's rescue. The dull stink left by the movie still taints the character, as shown by the clip above. There was a long, hard slog up ahead.
Somehow, in the midst of all this, I wrote my fourth novel. It proved to be one of my best, most heartfelt books - a Doctor Who tie-in tome called Who Killed Kennedy. The ending is flawed, lots of things that could be done better, but there's a grasp of tone and narrative position I hadn't managed before. I was learning my craft as last.
But being editor of 2000AD is very much a full-time job. I didn't anything else of my own for another five years. 1996-1999 were devoted to the Galaxy's greatest comic, pretty much to the exclusion of everything else. Frankly, those four years are a blur of work, work and more work. You need to have a life too, if you can manage it...
The movie had the potential to transform Dredd from a cult character [beloved in Britain, parts of the Commonwealth and a few places in the US] into a worldwide sensation. Stallone's career had been on a surge thanks to hits like Cliffhanger and Demolition Man. Director Danny Cannon was a young gun, on the rise. All looked good.
In the offices of 2000AD, the previous editor had been made redundant in November 1994 as part of a company-wide cull. New editorial team John Tomlinson and my old mentor Steve MacManus were publishing a load of less than stellar material left behind, getting the comic into shape for the movie's summer premiere. It was a tricky time.
The Dredd film flopped in America, ranking just below The Goofy Movie for takings that year. It was a big hit in Britain, and did well globally - but the damage was done. The Dredd brand was well and truly sullied, nobody was coming near it again for years. [There's a new Dredd film coming next year, hopefully it can remove the old stink.]
By the end of 1995, I'd been transferred from the peripheral titles to control of the mothership. On December 18 that year, I became editor of 2000AD. This was a dream come true in many ways, the chance to course correct a title I felt had been heading for the rocks for years. A slower car crash than the '95 Dredd film, but still painful.
I leapt in with both boots, dispensing freelancers whose work didn't my vision of the comic with sledgehammer subtlety. My behaviour didn't endear me to lots of people. I was young and full of myself, thought I knew better. Even if I did, I should have treat those freelancers with more care and respect. Sigh. Live and learn.
So 1995 was a transformative year. When it started, anything seemed possible. When it ended, we knew saving 2000AD would have to be a local job. Stallone and the Dredd film hadn't ridden to the comic's rescue. The dull stink left by the movie still taints the character, as shown by the clip above. There was a long, hard slog up ahead.
Somehow, in the midst of all this, I wrote my fourth novel. It proved to be one of my best, most heartfelt books - a Doctor Who tie-in tome called Who Killed Kennedy. The ending is flawed, lots of things that could be done better, but there's a grasp of tone and narrative position I hadn't managed before. I was learning my craft as last.
But being editor of 2000AD is very much a full-time job. I didn't anything else of my own for another five years. 1996-1999 were devoted to the Galaxy's greatest comic, pretty much to the exclusion of everything else. Frankly, those four years are a blur of work, work and more work. You need to have a life too, if you can manage it...
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Cutest thing ever: Manukura, the baby white Kiwi
Adorable. Warning: sound takes a few seconds to kick in.
Writers' Academy, Inspector Morse, other stuff
The good news is I'm on the longlist for this year's BBC Writers' Academy. From the 495 applicants, 156 made the longlist. These are selected after reading the first ten pages of every single applicants' writing samples. The bad news? There's a long way and many flaming hoops to get through before eight are chosen for this year's intake.
I wasn't expected an email about this yesterday. Without wishing to sound too cocky, I was pretty sure my first ten pages were good enough to get past the first hurdle. I knew those who didn't make the cut could expect a 'Welcome to Dumpsville, Population: You' email by the end of this week. I didn't know the longlist got a good news email.
So when the message turned up in my inbox, it created a few moments of oh shit angst. With a templated email getting fired off to so many people simultaneously, there's nowt to indicate whether the contents are good news or ill. I clicked through, heart in my mouth a little bit, and got the good news - I was on the longlist. Huzzah.
Several other people I know also made the cut - my fellow Doctors writers Denise Watson and Martin Day, along with a classmate from Screen Academy Scotland, Ronnie Macintosh. At this stage, I'd expect all of us to sail through, unless someone had a bad day or submitted a sample that didn't prove its worth in the first ten pages.
Now the hard work really begins for those selecting this year's applicants, as all 156 scripts get complete reads. You can write a brilliant first ten pages, but that's no guarantee the rest of your script will deliver on the promises made by that opening. The first ten pages need to set up the world, and pose the big dramatic question.
You expect them to introduce all the main characters, establish the tone and suggest the script's narrative position. If it's the pilot for a series, those first ten pages should also get the format locked down. The reader won't know everything yet, far from it, but they should have a sense the writer knows where this is all headed.
The rest of the script determines whether or not you can chew what you've bitten off in those first ten pages. Does the dialogue continue to spark and zing? Are the characters consistent and well observed? Does the ending pay off the inciting incident? Is it moral, or ironic? Central characters - do they change or learn?
Are the stakes big enough? Does the structure work? Does the writer have something to say? Is their script purposeful? Are they able to create a thematic structure that resonates through the whole narrative? Why should a reader care about anything that happens in the story? Do you want to know what happens next? Is it worth reading?
The Academy team now ploughs through all 156 writing samples from the longlist. From that somewhere between 20 and 30 people usually get invited to one-day workshops in London. After lots of collaborative and writing exercises, the shortlist is cut to between 12 and 16 people for the final interviews. From them, eight are chosen.
I last applied for the Academy in 2008. I made the longlist and was later told my writing sample was liked, but too soapy and not bold enough. [It was the pilot for a continuing drama about two families on a single street in Glasgow during the Second World War. Definitely soapy, and over-stuffed with characters. Live and learn.]
I'd love to go one better and be invited to the workshop day. Having written three eps of Doctors, I've learned an awful lot since 2008 and would like to believe that's reflected in my writing sample this time round. It's not perfect - there are some structural issues that need sorting - but still an improvement on my last sample.
Now the longlist of 156 has been announced, all goes quiet. We won't hear until late June at the earliest about workshop invites. So the best thing to do is forget about the Academy and press on with other writing projects. The next step is in the hands of others, nothing more I can do to influence its outcome. Shrug and move on.
Today's target is finishing my text for the fifth edition of The Complete Inspector Morse. The new version is with a new publisher, Titan Books, who took over the list of previous publisher Reynolds and Hearn. Happily, this edition offers me the chance to pull a lot of gaps I'd spotted in past volumes and bring it right up to date.
I wasn't very happy with the fourth edition, which sort of stumbled out after some miscommunications with the publisher. It included some new text, but only a fraction of all the material I had intended to add, amend or update. Happily, this new edition offers a chance to correct that and create was planned as the definitive Morse guide.
Well, it would have been. But the news that Colin Dexter and ITV are in discussions about a one-off, young Morse drama set during the character's time as an undergraduate at Oxford has opened the door for further updates. It remains to be seen if the proposed project happens. For a dead character, Morse does keep making comebacks.
One thing this new edition of The Complete Inspector Morse won't cover is the Lewis spin-off TV series, aside from the 2006 pilot. The adventures of Inspector Lewis and Sergeant Hathaway have now filled twenty episodes. There will soon be enough material for a standalone volume - The Complete Inspector Lewis, perhaps? Time will tell.
So today is about finishing off Morse. Then I need to be looking forwards. I've been neglecting several projects to concentrate on my Academy script and the Morse tome. After today I'll be able to shift focus to new areas. Plus I've got a holiday coming up, assuming volcanic ash clouds let me leave the country. Onwards!
I wasn't expected an email about this yesterday. Without wishing to sound too cocky, I was pretty sure my first ten pages were good enough to get past the first hurdle. I knew those who didn't make the cut could expect a 'Welcome to Dumpsville, Population: You' email by the end of this week. I didn't know the longlist got a good news email.
So when the message turned up in my inbox, it created a few moments of oh shit angst. With a templated email getting fired off to so many people simultaneously, there's nowt to indicate whether the contents are good news or ill. I clicked through, heart in my mouth a little bit, and got the good news - I was on the longlist. Huzzah.
Several other people I know also made the cut - my fellow Doctors writers Denise Watson and Martin Day, along with a classmate from Screen Academy Scotland, Ronnie Macintosh. At this stage, I'd expect all of us to sail through, unless someone had a bad day or submitted a sample that didn't prove its worth in the first ten pages.
Now the hard work really begins for those selecting this year's applicants, as all 156 scripts get complete reads. You can write a brilliant first ten pages, but that's no guarantee the rest of your script will deliver on the promises made by that opening. The first ten pages need to set up the world, and pose the big dramatic question.
You expect them to introduce all the main characters, establish the tone and suggest the script's narrative position. If it's the pilot for a series, those first ten pages should also get the format locked down. The reader won't know everything yet, far from it, but they should have a sense the writer knows where this is all headed.
The rest of the script determines whether or not you can chew what you've bitten off in those first ten pages. Does the dialogue continue to spark and zing? Are the characters consistent and well observed? Does the ending pay off the inciting incident? Is it moral, or ironic? Central characters - do they change or learn?
Are the stakes big enough? Does the structure work? Does the writer have something to say? Is their script purposeful? Are they able to create a thematic structure that resonates through the whole narrative? Why should a reader care about anything that happens in the story? Do you want to know what happens next? Is it worth reading?
The Academy team now ploughs through all 156 writing samples from the longlist. From that somewhere between 20 and 30 people usually get invited to one-day workshops in London. After lots of collaborative and writing exercises, the shortlist is cut to between 12 and 16 people for the final interviews. From them, eight are chosen.
I last applied for the Academy in 2008. I made the longlist and was later told my writing sample was liked, but too soapy and not bold enough. [It was the pilot for a continuing drama about two families on a single street in Glasgow during the Second World War. Definitely soapy, and over-stuffed with characters. Live and learn.]
I'd love to go one better and be invited to the workshop day. Having written three eps of Doctors, I've learned an awful lot since 2008 and would like to believe that's reflected in my writing sample this time round. It's not perfect - there are some structural issues that need sorting - but still an improvement on my last sample.
Now the longlist of 156 has been announced, all goes quiet. We won't hear until late June at the earliest about workshop invites. So the best thing to do is forget about the Academy and press on with other writing projects. The next step is in the hands of others, nothing more I can do to influence its outcome. Shrug and move on.
Today's target is finishing my text for the fifth edition of The Complete Inspector Morse. The new version is with a new publisher, Titan Books, who took over the list of previous publisher Reynolds and Hearn. Happily, this edition offers me the chance to pull a lot of gaps I'd spotted in past volumes and bring it right up to date.
I wasn't very happy with the fourth edition, which sort of stumbled out after some miscommunications with the publisher. It included some new text, but only a fraction of all the material I had intended to add, amend or update. Happily, this new edition offers a chance to correct that and create was planned as the definitive Morse guide.
Well, it would have been. But the news that Colin Dexter and ITV are in discussions about a one-off, young Morse drama set during the character's time as an undergraduate at Oxford has opened the door for further updates. It remains to be seen if the proposed project happens. For a dead character, Morse does keep making comebacks.
One thing this new edition of The Complete Inspector Morse won't cover is the Lewis spin-off TV series, aside from the 2006 pilot. The adventures of Inspector Lewis and Sergeant Hathaway have now filled twenty episodes. There will soon be enough material for a standalone volume - The Complete Inspector Lewis, perhaps? Time will tell.
So today is about finishing off Morse. Then I need to be looking forwards. I've been neglecting several projects to concentrate on my Academy script and the Morse tome. After today I'll be able to shift focus to new areas. Plus I've got a holiday coming up, assuming volcanic ash clouds let me leave the country. Onwards!
Friday, May 20, 2011
Blog Post #1991: Boy from the big bad city
Twenty years ago I was living near Blackheath common in South London, with a job on the newly launched Judge Dredd Megazine and trying my hand at writing comics. I'd emigrated from New Zealand the previous year. After a rocky few months, I found regular work, somewhere to stay, a great flatmate, and even a girlfriend.
Life in London was a real culture shock. Being among people from so many different background was strange and unexpected and kind of exciting. The city felt like a true melting pot. Never got into raves [didn't like having blissed out prats blowing whistles in my ear all night] but musically sounds and genres were fusing.
Witness 'Dub Be Good To Me' by Beats International above, featuring Norman Cook [aka Fatboy Slim] playing the bass line from 'Guns of Brixton' by The Clash behind a cover of 'Just Be Good To Me' by the SOS Band. Throw in a shuffling post- Soul II Soul beat, some toasting MC and you've got one of 1991's biggest hits. Still sounds fresh to me.
By the end of 1991 I was full time editor of the Judge Dredd Megazine. The comic was a success, with plans afoot to take it from monthly to fortnightly. My comics scripts weren't going so well, but my mentor Steve MacManus urged me on. He said I'd regret if I didn't learning my craft as a writer - and he was right. [Thanks, Steve!]
The clip above - Candy Flip's cover of 'Strawberry Fields Forever' - sums up 1991 for me. I remember listening to this with friends in baking heat on Blackheath Common, enjoying being alive and in London. The song came out 21 years after the Beatles split. Hard to believe another 20 years have passed since then. Onwards!
Life in London was a real culture shock. Being among people from so many different background was strange and unexpected and kind of exciting. The city felt like a true melting pot. Never got into raves [didn't like having blissed out prats blowing whistles in my ear all night] but musically sounds and genres were fusing.
Witness 'Dub Be Good To Me' by Beats International above, featuring Norman Cook [aka Fatboy Slim] playing the bass line from 'Guns of Brixton' by The Clash behind a cover of 'Just Be Good To Me' by the SOS Band. Throw in a shuffling post- Soul II Soul beat, some toasting MC and you've got one of 1991's biggest hits. Still sounds fresh to me.
By the end of 1991 I was full time editor of the Judge Dredd Megazine. The comic was a success, with plans afoot to take it from monthly to fortnightly. My comics scripts weren't going so well, but my mentor Steve MacManus urged me on. He said I'd regret if I didn't learning my craft as a writer - and he was right. [Thanks, Steve!]
The clip above - Candy Flip's cover of 'Strawberry Fields Forever' - sums up 1991 for me. I remember listening to this with friends in baking heat on Blackheath Common, enjoying being alive and in London. The song came out 21 years after the Beatles split. Hard to believe another 20 years have passed since then. Onwards!
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Charlie's Angels: back on TV this autumn in America
How odd. Last week I sent my agent a script featuring the line, "They're no Charlie's Angels." This week someone in ABC's Blogger Outreach Department [no, me neither] sent me a link to a preview video of the new TV revival of - you guessed it - Charlie's Angels. The showrunners developed Smallville, so there are some writing chops on this.
Looks like the show's be relocated to Miami, with the Angels now recast as bad girls getting a shot at redemption. Can't say I recognise two of the new Angels, but Minka Kelly was great in Friday Night Lights [then again, everyone was great in FNL]. I'm sure this show will end up on British TV - but where? Anyway, feel free to pass comment...
Blog Post #1988: Better Be Home Soon
After two and a bit years as a cadet reporter in Taranaki, I headed back to my home town of Auckland. [I say town, but Auckland's the biggest city in NZ with a million residents.] I got a job at the New Zealand Herald, and moved back in with the family towards the end of 1987 for what I thought was a temporary stay.
Above is a clip for Sweet Lover by NZ band The Holiday Makers, one of the biggest hits of 1988. It's a chirpy, summery kind of song - somewhat at odds with the year our family was having. My mum came back from a trip to America with what was thought to be a liver infection, which turned out to be cancer. Three months later she was dead.
Those three months are a blur of holding it together and working, hoping for the best and expecting the worst. I remember watching the 1988 Olympics from Seoul with mum, knowing it'd be the last she ever saw. Then she was gone, and we had to get on without her. Losing a parent blows a hole through your life, no matter when it happens.
This clip is Nobody Else by Tex Pistol and Rikki Morris, another homegrown NZ No. 1. [How 80s is the production on that?] Bit of a cheesy song, but it's like a time machine to 1988 for a lot of Kiwis. Anyway, after Mum died I decided it was time to get some direction in my life. I was sick and tired of covering general news.
I fought hard to get into features at the Herald, spent six weeks in that department on secondment, but couldn't secure a permanent gig. [In those days you pretty much had to wait for someone to retire or die.] My voice wasn't good enough for radio, my face didn't fit TV, and the NZ magazine industry wasn't my bag. I decided to emigrate.
Moving to Australia seemed such a cliche for Kiwis in the 80s. I might have swung entry to the US, having relatives there, but moving to the UK felt like a journey to a place that had long beckoned. I loved British music, British TV drama. Just seeing a London A-Z brought me out in goosebumps. So I spent the next year saving up to go.
One last clip. This is a version of Better Be Home Soon, originally released by Crowded House on the 1988 album Temple of the Low Men. Here songwriter Neil Finn performs it, after pointing out how similar The Drugs Don't Work from a later year is to this track. Below is one of many cover versions, by Oz comedian Tim Minchin.
Seems appropriate to finish with this song, since I'll be heading back to NZ for a visit soon. Looking forward to seeing the family, revisiting some old haunts and generally soaking up some Kiwi culture. Better be home soon? You bet. Onwards!
Above is a clip for Sweet Lover by NZ band The Holiday Makers, one of the biggest hits of 1988. It's a chirpy, summery kind of song - somewhat at odds with the year our family was having. My mum came back from a trip to America with what was thought to be a liver infection, which turned out to be cancer. Three months later she was dead.
Those three months are a blur of holding it together and working, hoping for the best and expecting the worst. I remember watching the 1988 Olympics from Seoul with mum, knowing it'd be the last she ever saw. Then she was gone, and we had to get on without her. Losing a parent blows a hole through your life, no matter when it happens.
This clip is Nobody Else by Tex Pistol and Rikki Morris, another homegrown NZ No. 1. [How 80s is the production on that?] Bit of a cheesy song, but it's like a time machine to 1988 for a lot of Kiwis. Anyway, after Mum died I decided it was time to get some direction in my life. I was sick and tired of covering general news.
I fought hard to get into features at the Herald, spent six weeks in that department on secondment, but couldn't secure a permanent gig. [In those days you pretty much had to wait for someone to retire or die.] My voice wasn't good enough for radio, my face didn't fit TV, and the NZ magazine industry wasn't my bag. I decided to emigrate.
Moving to Australia seemed such a cliche for Kiwis in the 80s. I might have swung entry to the US, having relatives there, but moving to the UK felt like a journey to a place that had long beckoned. I loved British music, British TV drama. Just seeing a London A-Z brought me out in goosebumps. So I spent the next year saving up to go.
One last clip. This is a version of Better Be Home Soon, originally released by Crowded House on the 1988 album Temple of the Low Men. Here songwriter Neil Finn performs it, after pointing out how similar The Drugs Don't Work from a later year is to this track. Below is one of many cover versions, by Oz comedian Tim Minchin.
Seems appropriate to finish with this song, since I'll be heading back to NZ for a visit soon. Looking forward to seeing the family, revisiting some old haunts and generally soaking up some Kiwi culture. Better be home soon? You bet. Onwards!
Monday, May 16, 2011
FREE! 3 day screenwriting lab for scribes in Scotland
Every year the Scottish Book Trust offers writers the chance to develop cross-media careers through its labs scheme. Applications are now open for the 2011 Screen Lab. Ever wondered about writing for film and TV? This is your chance to discover exactly what it takes to break into one of the most competitive and lucrative areas of writing.
Among the areas covered: state of the industry and breaking in; developing ideas; show don't tell - visual narrative; what directors and actors look for in a script; pitch docs, treatments, step outlines and first drafts; competitions, networking, and other career building strategies; the transition from part time writer to professional.
Screen Lab 2011 will be led by award winning writer and director Adrian Mead. Over a packed three days Adrian takes you through the realities of script development and the strategy you need to break in. For a taster of his sessions, watch Adrian's vidcasts about Making It As a Screenwriter or download his acclaimed book for more detail.
Screen Lab 2011 runs July 9-11 inclusive, from 10am-5pm at the Scottish Book Trust in Edinburgh. It's open to professional writers at any career stage, but students in formal education are not eligible (i.e. accredited school, university and college courses, full or part-time). Go here for more details and an application form.
Among the areas covered: state of the industry and breaking in; developing ideas; show don't tell - visual narrative; what directors and actors look for in a script; pitch docs, treatments, step outlines and first drafts; competitions, networking, and other career building strategies; the transition from part time writer to professional.
Screen Lab 2011 will be led by award winning writer and director Adrian Mead. Over a packed three days Adrian takes you through the realities of script development and the strategy you need to break in. For a taster of his sessions, watch Adrian's vidcasts about Making It As a Screenwriter or download his acclaimed book for more detail.
Screen Lab 2011 runs July 9-11 inclusive, from 10am-5pm at the Scottish Book Trust in Edinburgh. It's open to professional writers at any career stage, but students in formal education are not eligible (i.e. accredited school, university and college courses, full or part-time). Go here for more details and an application form.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Monday, May 09, 2011
Blog Post #1985: He's leaving home [Don't Go!]
1985 was a banner year. I spent the first six months on the journalism diploma course at ATI [now the Auckland University of Technology]. At the time it was one of the few vocational courses available to would-be journalists in New Zealand, and competition for places was high. Nearly 300 applied, but only 24 got in - including me.
The course was a pressure cooker, designed to simulate the brutal working environment you would find in newsrooms of the day. If you passed the course, you could survive like as a working journalist. One tutor took a Darwinian pride in the fact a sixth of each student intake would quit or fail, believing it best to eliminate the weak early.
I'd never worked so hard. Having cruised through school on natural intelligence and the ability to bullshit, this course was a shock to the system. No longer was I top of the class, it took all I had just to stay afloat. But I got through it and work placement led to a job offer from Taranaki's morning paper, The Daily News.
[I wonder how many of that class are still journos? Susana Lei'ataua became an actor, writer and artist. Nui Te Koha is a senior writer at Melbourne's Herald Sun. Nemo Adam does web design. Liane Clarke presented TV, now runs marketing and communications. Always wondered what happened to the others, people like Susan Harris?]
I left home on July 4th 1985 [this was my Independence Day] in a newly purchased but decidedly second hand Fort Cortina [as seen in the rather blurry phot aboveo, taken that morning]. The radiator almost exploded fifty miles later and a five hour trip took closer to ten, but I eventually arrived in Hawera to start my first proper job.
Less than a week later several French spies blew up the Greenpeace vessel Rainbow Warrior while it was docked in Auckland's Waitemata Harbour. [Several of my former classmates had been on board only hours before.] The story made headlines round the world. I was covered golden wedding anniversaries and minor house fires in Taranaki.
Live Aid? My family came to visit that weekend, which was lovely - but only made my homesickness worse after they'd gone. And I couldn't stay awake to the wee small hours to watch David Bowie perform. Within a month I'd dislocated my knee and spent three weeks in crutches. I worked 39 days out of 42 in one six week stint. Not much fun.
Nevertheless, 1985 was the year I became a professional writer, the year I left home and grew up fast. It's probably the year I learned the most about myself. Seems like a lifetime ago, but an awful lot of who I am now got formed during those twelve months - for better, and for worse. Now, for a musical memory from 1985...
On the journalism course we were forbidden from taken part in any political protests. Our tutors insisted we had to be impartial to write balanced coverage of any story. We could have our own views in private, but not in public. In a decade of agit-prop, that didn't sit well with a lot of students. It prompted me on to my one and only march.
Four years earlier the South African rugby union team had toured New Zealand, causing a storm of protest. The Springboks were seen as representatives of the oppressive aparthied regime, which didn't go down well in a country struggling with its own multi-cultural identity issues and a bad history of colonialism and exploitation.
A return tour by the All Blacks to South Africa was planned for 1985 [how do you like your irony - well done?], but legal action stopped that. A year later many of the players chosen for the aborted tour went to SA anyway as the Cavaliers, despite further protests. You could argue it's where rugby union turned more mercenary.
[IIRC, the Cavaliers were flushed out of the All Blacks, forcing the creation of a new squad full of bright young talents. A year later, they won the inaugural Rugby World Cup in New Zealand. The All Blacks haven't managed to repeat that feat since, but get another chance this year as the contest returns to NZ. Fingers crossed it happens.]
Anyway, in 1985 a lot of kiwi musical talent got together and recorded a protest song against the proposed All Black tour to South Africa. It helped propound the case against supporting aparthied, even if only on the rugby field. The video's a dog's dinner, but I still like the Pacific reggae feel of the song. Your mileage may vary.
The course was a pressure cooker, designed to simulate the brutal working environment you would find in newsrooms of the day. If you passed the course, you could survive like as a working journalist. One tutor took a Darwinian pride in the fact a sixth of each student intake would quit or fail, believing it best to eliminate the weak early.
I'd never worked so hard. Having cruised through school on natural intelligence and the ability to bullshit, this course was a shock to the system. No longer was I top of the class, it took all I had just to stay afloat. But I got through it and work placement led to a job offer from Taranaki's morning paper, The Daily News.
[I wonder how many of that class are still journos? Susana Lei'ataua became an actor, writer and artist. Nui Te Koha is a senior writer at Melbourne's Herald Sun. Nemo Adam does web design. Liane Clarke presented TV, now runs marketing and communications. Always wondered what happened to the others, people like Susan Harris?]
I left home on July 4th 1985 [this was my Independence Day] in a newly purchased but decidedly second hand Fort Cortina [as seen in the rather blurry phot aboveo, taken that morning]. The radiator almost exploded fifty miles later and a five hour trip took closer to ten, but I eventually arrived in Hawera to start my first proper job.Less than a week later several French spies blew up the Greenpeace vessel Rainbow Warrior while it was docked in Auckland's Waitemata Harbour. [Several of my former classmates had been on board only hours before.] The story made headlines round the world. I was covered golden wedding anniversaries and minor house fires in Taranaki.
Live Aid? My family came to visit that weekend, which was lovely - but only made my homesickness worse after they'd gone. And I couldn't stay awake to the wee small hours to watch David Bowie perform. Within a month I'd dislocated my knee and spent three weeks in crutches. I worked 39 days out of 42 in one six week stint. Not much fun.
Nevertheless, 1985 was the year I became a professional writer, the year I left home and grew up fast. It's probably the year I learned the most about myself. Seems like a lifetime ago, but an awful lot of who I am now got formed during those twelve months - for better, and for worse. Now, for a musical memory from 1985...
On the journalism course we were forbidden from taken part in any political protests. Our tutors insisted we had to be impartial to write balanced coverage of any story. We could have our own views in private, but not in public. In a decade of agit-prop, that didn't sit well with a lot of students. It prompted me on to my one and only march.
Four years earlier the South African rugby union team had toured New Zealand, causing a storm of protest. The Springboks were seen as representatives of the oppressive aparthied regime, which didn't go down well in a country struggling with its own multi-cultural identity issues and a bad history of colonialism and exploitation.
A return tour by the All Blacks to South Africa was planned for 1985 [how do you like your irony - well done?], but legal action stopped that. A year later many of the players chosen for the aborted tour went to SA anyway as the Cavaliers, despite further protests. You could argue it's where rugby union turned more mercenary.
[IIRC, the Cavaliers were flushed out of the All Blacks, forcing the creation of a new squad full of bright young talents. A year later, they won the inaugural Rugby World Cup in New Zealand. The All Blacks haven't managed to repeat that feat since, but get another chance this year as the contest returns to NZ. Fingers crossed it happens.]
Anyway, in 1985 a lot of kiwi musical talent got together and recorded a protest song against the proposed All Black tour to South Africa. It helped propound the case against supporting aparthied, even if only on the rugby field. The video's a dog's dinner, but I still like the Pacific reggae feel of the song. Your mileage may vary.
Friday, May 06, 2011
Moving from writing novels to screenwriting
I've had 20 novels published. When I tell people that, they're often amazed. But quantity is no signifier of quality. They were media tie-in tomes, based on licensed properties. Getting 20 novels published proves I'm a competent writer who tells a good yarn and can write to specification. I was adept at hustling, a jack of all trades.
In 2005 I had a revelation: I wasn't enjoying what I was writing. I went into novels because an opportunity arose. As in so many aspects of freelance life, one job led to another. Before I knew it, I was hacking out four novels a year - plus a bunch of other stuff. My productivity peaked in 2004, when I had 600,000 words published.
But, as noted above, quantity does not equal quality. It's hard to care about your work while churning out so much of it. I decided to retrain with the goal of becoming a TV drama writer. I did a Screenwriting MA at Screen Academy Scotland, and a fistful of short courses, workshops and other opportunities. You name it, I probably did it.
Six years on from my revelation, I'm now working as a TV drama writer. Not by any stretch of the imagination exclusively for TV drama, but I'm getting commissions. [I also write radio drama, computer games, comics and graphic novels, children's TV, teach creative writing to postgrad students part-time, and a bunch of other stuff.]
Elsewhere, fellow blogger Lucy has been going in the opposite direction of late, moving from screenwriting to writing novels. So we decided to blog about the differences between the two narrative media from our different perspectives. Here's a few of my thoughts on the subject, for whatever they're worth. [Mileage may vary.]
All my novels were written to commission. That meant I was required to produce a convincing synopsis or chapter breakdown first, to prove I had enough story to fill the requisite word count [and that it meant sundry criteria linked to the licensed property in the case of tie-ins e.g. no shagging for the Doctor in Doctor Who].
So I was never a Journey of Discovery writer, one of those scribes who start a novel with little more than some inspiration and a what if? I prefer a roadmap approach to prose fiction. I know my destination before I set off, and I have a bunch of places to stop en route [i.e. plot points and twists] that sustain my story on the journey.
I've been known to write a full plot synopsis of more than 5000 words for a 80,000 word novel [plus other supporting material - character outlines, etc]. Some will say this runs the risk of crushing all the spontaneity out of a novel. Why bother writing it if you already know everything that's going to happen? Not an issue for me.
To me, writing a novel is like that guy in Man On Wire who walked between the Twin Towers. It's a high wire act and you can fall off at any time. Now imagine trying to do it without knowing where the other end of the wire goes - or if it even leads anywhere. Me, I like to know my destination, and have a safety net for mishaps.
Pre-planning doesn't have to be a straitjacket for prose fiction writers. Every chapter is a fresh adventure for you and your characters. My best novels came alive when characters rejected the fine print of my pre-planned journey to choose their own path. A synopsis should be flexible, not commandments carved on tablets of stone.
If you're not working to met a commission or contract, the challenge of writing a novel can be overwhelming. Why? Because your choices are infinite. You can do whatever you want, take your characters wherever you want. But here's a fact: you can never fill an infinite canvas. You have to make choices, put a frame round your narrative.
I find speculative writing - creating something new without a specific purpose or deadline attacked - problematic. I need restrictions to make me write purposefully, otherwise it's just some stuff I'm making up that needn't go anywhere. As a result, I've never written a novel on spec - and I'm probably never going to, I suspect.
Why? Because writing a novel is a lot of work. It's at least 80,000 words long, unless you're writing for children or young adults. Specific genres expect much longer books, so if you're writing high fantasy then 120-150,000 words might be needed. That's a lot of work to undertake on spec. You will be writing this for months, even years.
I have screenwriting projects I've been nudging along for years. My new calling card pilot script The Specials is at least two years in the making - but with huge gaps during that time in which I did no work on it. I devoted several short, sustained bursts of energy to the project, most of which were spent on pre-planning elements.
The actual first draft took maybe ten or twelve days, doted around other commitments. When I was writing prose, I could comfortably crank out 4000 words a day [like I said, quantity, not quality]. That was 20,000 words in a working week. First draft of novel would take four to five weeks. But a spec novel would have taken me far longer.
So never underestimate how long it takes just to physically write a novel. Every scene is another choice, another opportunity to fumble the tone or misplace your narrative position. The Specials was just under 60 pages. I can read the whole screenplay in a fraction of the time it took to review the manuscript for an entire novel.
The joy of prose is readers will forgive some sagging and bagginess in your writing, if the story's compelling or the characters engaging enough. A novel is the finished narrative, you speaking directly into the mind of your reader. A screenplay is merely a blueprint for work still to come, the plans for a narrative yet to be filmed.
With a novel you can be author, auteur, director, set dresser, camera operator, sound recordist, special effects supervisor, producer and everything else besides. With a screenplay, you can influence decisions but they remain largely beyond your control. You are just the beginning of the process as a screenwriter. Novelists are everything.
One of the things I disliked in writing prose fiction was the apparent need to describe everything. Frankly, I couldn't be bothered. I'd rather say a room was plush and move on. When I read prose, I find it easy to skip the descriptive passages. To me, that's just set dressing - I want story and characterisation, first and foremost.
As a result, my prose fiction was lean to the point of being Spartan. [One editor once told me I had no poetry in my soul. I don't know if that's true, but I certainly don't have any poetry in my writing.] Looking back now, it's kind of obvious screenwriting was the more natural medium for me. I can focus on the things that matter most to me.
Having said all that, the transition from prose to screenwriting wasn't painless. Like most novelists, I tend to overwrite screen description. Keeping that spare and lean is a conscious act of will for me. My dialogue was never exactly effusive, so cutting that to the quick has proved less testing. The biggest overall difference is brevity.
Everything is edited to within an inch of its life for screenwriting. Get into scenes as late as possible, get out ASAP. In prose you can linger inside the thoughts of your characters, in screenwriting most everything needs to be externalised. Show, don't tell your story. For me, prose was a lot of story telling, not showing.
Moving into screenwriting required learning a lot of new craft skills, and I'm still just getting to grips with the tip of that iceberg. But it feels more like a natural act, whereas writing prose fiction was an act of will. Screenwriting is all about the quality of the writing, not the quantity of words that I can produce. Onwards!
In 2005 I had a revelation: I wasn't enjoying what I was writing. I went into novels because an opportunity arose. As in so many aspects of freelance life, one job led to another. Before I knew it, I was hacking out four novels a year - plus a bunch of other stuff. My productivity peaked in 2004, when I had 600,000 words published.
But, as noted above, quantity does not equal quality. It's hard to care about your work while churning out so much of it. I decided to retrain with the goal of becoming a TV drama writer. I did a Screenwriting MA at Screen Academy Scotland, and a fistful of short courses, workshops and other opportunities. You name it, I probably did it.
Six years on from my revelation, I'm now working as a TV drama writer. Not by any stretch of the imagination exclusively for TV drama, but I'm getting commissions. [I also write radio drama, computer games, comics and graphic novels, children's TV, teach creative writing to postgrad students part-time, and a bunch of other stuff.]
Elsewhere, fellow blogger Lucy has been going in the opposite direction of late, moving from screenwriting to writing novels. So we decided to blog about the differences between the two narrative media from our different perspectives. Here's a few of my thoughts on the subject, for whatever they're worth. [Mileage may vary.]
All my novels were written to commission. That meant I was required to produce a convincing synopsis or chapter breakdown first, to prove I had enough story to fill the requisite word count [and that it meant sundry criteria linked to the licensed property in the case of tie-ins e.g. no shagging for the Doctor in Doctor Who].
So I was never a Journey of Discovery writer, one of those scribes who start a novel with little more than some inspiration and a what if? I prefer a roadmap approach to prose fiction. I know my destination before I set off, and I have a bunch of places to stop en route [i.e. plot points and twists] that sustain my story on the journey.
I've been known to write a full plot synopsis of more than 5000 words for a 80,000 word novel [plus other supporting material - character outlines, etc]. Some will say this runs the risk of crushing all the spontaneity out of a novel. Why bother writing it if you already know everything that's going to happen? Not an issue for me.
To me, writing a novel is like that guy in Man On Wire who walked between the Twin Towers. It's a high wire act and you can fall off at any time. Now imagine trying to do it without knowing where the other end of the wire goes - or if it even leads anywhere. Me, I like to know my destination, and have a safety net for mishaps.
Pre-planning doesn't have to be a straitjacket for prose fiction writers. Every chapter is a fresh adventure for you and your characters. My best novels came alive when characters rejected the fine print of my pre-planned journey to choose their own path. A synopsis should be flexible, not commandments carved on tablets of stone.
If you're not working to met a commission or contract, the challenge of writing a novel can be overwhelming. Why? Because your choices are infinite. You can do whatever you want, take your characters wherever you want. But here's a fact: you can never fill an infinite canvas. You have to make choices, put a frame round your narrative.
I find speculative writing - creating something new without a specific purpose or deadline attacked - problematic. I need restrictions to make me write purposefully, otherwise it's just some stuff I'm making up that needn't go anywhere. As a result, I've never written a novel on spec - and I'm probably never going to, I suspect.
Why? Because writing a novel is a lot of work. It's at least 80,000 words long, unless you're writing for children or young adults. Specific genres expect much longer books, so if you're writing high fantasy then 120-150,000 words might be needed. That's a lot of work to undertake on spec. You will be writing this for months, even years.
I have screenwriting projects I've been nudging along for years. My new calling card pilot script The Specials is at least two years in the making - but with huge gaps during that time in which I did no work on it. I devoted several short, sustained bursts of energy to the project, most of which were spent on pre-planning elements.
The actual first draft took maybe ten or twelve days, doted around other commitments. When I was writing prose, I could comfortably crank out 4000 words a day [like I said, quantity, not quality]. That was 20,000 words in a working week. First draft of novel would take four to five weeks. But a spec novel would have taken me far longer.
So never underestimate how long it takes just to physically write a novel. Every scene is another choice, another opportunity to fumble the tone or misplace your narrative position. The Specials was just under 60 pages. I can read the whole screenplay in a fraction of the time it took to review the manuscript for an entire novel.
The joy of prose is readers will forgive some sagging and bagginess in your writing, if the story's compelling or the characters engaging enough. A novel is the finished narrative, you speaking directly into the mind of your reader. A screenplay is merely a blueprint for work still to come, the plans for a narrative yet to be filmed.
With a novel you can be author, auteur, director, set dresser, camera operator, sound recordist, special effects supervisor, producer and everything else besides. With a screenplay, you can influence decisions but they remain largely beyond your control. You are just the beginning of the process as a screenwriter. Novelists are everything.
One of the things I disliked in writing prose fiction was the apparent need to describe everything. Frankly, I couldn't be bothered. I'd rather say a room was plush and move on. When I read prose, I find it easy to skip the descriptive passages. To me, that's just set dressing - I want story and characterisation, first and foremost.
As a result, my prose fiction was lean to the point of being Spartan. [One editor once told me I had no poetry in my soul. I don't know if that's true, but I certainly don't have any poetry in my writing.] Looking back now, it's kind of obvious screenwriting was the more natural medium for me. I can focus on the things that matter most to me.
Having said all that, the transition from prose to screenwriting wasn't painless. Like most novelists, I tend to overwrite screen description. Keeping that spare and lean is a conscious act of will for me. My dialogue was never exactly effusive, so cutting that to the quick has proved less testing. The biggest overall difference is brevity.
Everything is edited to within an inch of its life for screenwriting. Get into scenes as late as possible, get out ASAP. In prose you can linger inside the thoughts of your characters, in screenwriting most everything needs to be externalised. Show, don't tell your story. For me, prose was a lot of story telling, not showing.
Moving into screenwriting required learning a lot of new craft skills, and I'm still just getting to grips with the tip of that iceberg. But it feels more like a natural act, whereas writing prose fiction was an act of will. Screenwriting is all about the quality of the writing, not the quantity of words that I can produce. Onwards!
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Blog Post #1983: Running on the spot dancing
Lamentably, the first rock concert I ever attended was ELO [with their 'amazing laser light show'] at Western Springs in 1978. The first concert I attended under my own steam was an underage rage [i.e. no alcohol sales] at His Majesty's Theatre four years later, featuring popular NZ bands like the Screaming Mee Mees and the Newmatics.
The Newmatics were a ska band with a lot of soul music influences on their sleeve. They had a great born section that regularly blew their microphones will playing live. You'll have to excuse the primitive video with its attempts at comedy, the song's actually about police brutality! Take careful note of the dancing in this video...
Not sure I ever got to see The Instigators live in concert. They had a definite love affair with The Clash [and, inevitably, Siouzsie and the Banshees], mixing punk, rock and reggae influences. Look, there's that weird running on the spot dancing style in the crowd again. Tragically, I did a lot of that when I was younger and fitter.
And here are the Mee Mees, a very early track and a typically primitive video. Watch out for the foot stamping and/or running on the spot dancing. Note the winklepicker shoes, which I still tend to wear. Union Jack flags show up a lot in early 80s Kiwi music videos. Somehow Brit culture was always cooler - punk, ska, mods.
The Newmatics were a ska band with a lot of soul music influences on their sleeve. They had a great born section that regularly blew their microphones will playing live. You'll have to excuse the primitive video with its attempts at comedy, the song's actually about police brutality! Take careful note of the dancing in this video...
Not sure I ever got to see The Instigators live in concert. They had a definite love affair with The Clash [and, inevitably, Siouzsie and the Banshees], mixing punk, rock and reggae influences. Look, there's that weird running on the spot dancing style in the crowd again. Tragically, I did a lot of that when I was younger and fitter.
And here are the Mee Mees, a very early track and a typically primitive video. Watch out for the foot stamping and/or running on the spot dancing. Note the winklepicker shoes, which I still tend to wear. Union Jack flags show up a lot in early 80s Kiwi music videos. Somehow Brit culture was always cooler - punk, ska, mods.
Tip-Toes: "Gary Oldman, in the role of a lifetime..."
Can this movie be as bad as the trailer suggests?
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
Blog Post #1981: The legacy of Hill Street Blues
If I could travel back in time to write for any TV drama, Hill Street Blues would be top of my list. Not that I'm anywhere near good enough for the US police procedural, but because I have such an abiding admiration for the series. It's been a major influence on my writing and is a big part of why I enjoy ensemble TV drama so much.
Hill Street Blues hit US TV early in 1981 to critical acclaim and audience apathy. It went against the grain by adopting documentary techniques - lots of hand-held camera work, overlapping dialogue and in your face narrative viewpoints - designed to give the drama immediacy, thrusting those watching into the middle of the action.
This was revolutionary 30 years ago, now it's become a style choice. But the reason Hill Street Blues endures [for me, anyway] is the writing and the characters. The sprawling cast, all with distinct attitudes and voices. The multi-stranded tapesty of plots woven by each episode. The willingness to show human flaws and frailties.
Plus there's a seam of dark, bleak humour that runs through the series [the David Milch factor, perhaps?]. My favourite Hill Street Blues sequence comes on the death of a series regular. The police spread the character's ashes on the streets, fulfilling their last wishes. Soon after a sweeping machine wishes the ashes down a drain.
Last Friday I submitted my application for the BBC Writers' Academy. My sample script was The Specials, an ensemble TV drama about special constables in Edinburgh. I won't make any claims of greatness [never invite yourself to a banquet of humble pie and hubris], but my pilot script tips its hat to the greatness of Hill Street Blues.
Applications for the academy close this Thursday. About 500 people apply most years. An initial sift will take those numbers down to around 150 by the end of May. In early July the top 30 or so will be invited for workshops in London. From these people perhaps 12-15 get interviewed for the eight places on this year's academy.
Get in and you undergo an intensive, 13-week experience learning to write for BBC continuing dramas Casualty, EastEnders, Holby City and Doctors. Survive the academy and you write one episode for all four shows in a twelve month period. You can get on each show without the academy, but it's the fast-track to tackling them all.
The fact I've written three broadcast episodes of Doctors is neither here nor there when it comes to selection for the academy. You need a professional writing credit to apply, but after that it's the quality of your writing sample that determines whether or not you at least make it to the workshop phase of the selection process.
I won't know about the success or failure of my application until the end of May at the earliest. In the meantime I'll be watching all four shows to immerse myself in the way they tell stories [plus the BBC Scotland continuing drama River City, which I watch every week anyway]. Good luck to all who apply for the academy. Onwards!
Monday, May 02, 2011
Blog post #1980: Sometimes quality does win out
Growing up in New Zealand, it felt like only the most middle of the road schlock had any hope of success. Quirky, left field and the unexpected could be underground favourites but never expect to break through. Kiwi back Split Enz suffered that fate for most of the 1970s, but suddenly got attention worldwide thanks to this track, I Got You.
I guess that probably looks a bit quaint from this distance. The obsessive stalker lyrics and quirky music was not obvious hit single material at the time. But I Got You got to number 1 in NZ, Australia and Canada. Even more notably, it got No. 12 in the UK.
From the other side of the world, that seemed like a massive achievement at the time. There was greater success to come for I Got You songwriter Neil Finn in Crowded House, but he was only 22 when this song was a hit around the world. It showed New Zealand's tyranny of distance was no real barrier to hard work and talent.
I guess that probably looks a bit quaint from this distance. The obsessive stalker lyrics and quirky music was not obvious hit single material at the time. But I Got You got to number 1 in NZ, Australia and Canada. Even more notably, it got No. 12 in the UK.
From the other side of the world, that seemed like a massive achievement at the time. There was greater success to come for I Got You songwriter Neil Finn in Crowded House, but he was only 22 when this song was a hit around the world. It showed New Zealand's tyranny of distance was no real barrier to hard work and talent.
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